The back seat of the MPV was wide.
Genuine leather, light brown, so soft that the moment you sat down your backside sank half an inch into it.
The windows' soundproofing was superb; the evening traffic noise of Arc City outside was completely shut out, leaving only the faint hum of the air-conditioning vents.
Su Yu sat on the right.
Himeko sat pressed close beside him, in the middle.
The bold, free-spirited lady teacher who could normally stand on a crate of beer at home and chug straight from the bottle was now as stiff as a flash-frozen ribbonfish.
Her hands were folded on her knees, her red hair swaying slightly with the gentle bumps of the cabin.
She shifted irritably, and her full thigh, wrapped in a professional skirt suit, accidentally brushed against Su Yu's knee.
Murata Ryusuke sat on the left, his posture impeccable, but his gaze wasn't on the window outside. He simply kept his eyelids half-lowered, his peripheral vision blanketing both Himeko and Su Yu.
Three people. One row of seats.
The distance was small, but what lay between them was longer than the car itself.
This eerie silence lasted nearly ten minutes.
Finally, Himeko couldn't take it anymore.
She jerked upright, shattering the suffocating quiet.
"Old man, where exactly are you taking us to eat? We've nearly driven out of the Old District already."
Her voice carried obvious impatience, an attempt to dispel the oppressive pressure aimed at Su Yu within the cabin.
Ryusuke glanced at her.
"Kindling."
"The head chef there is a master with an eccentric temper but consummate, peerless skill. People call him Kalpas."
"A table there has to be booked three months in advance. What's more, the chef cooks purely according to his mood—there's no menu. Even if the mayor of Arc City went, he'd have to obediently mind the chef's temper."
"Cuisine of this caliber—many people may never get to experience it even once in their entire lives."
He enunciated that last sentence lightly. But its meaning was heavy.
Translated, it meant: "A place like this you'd never get into on your own in your whole life—you can only mooch your way in by tagging along with my daughter."
Himeko's expression changed instantly.
She was about to retort when she felt Su Yu suddenly move beside her.
Su Yu's shoulders were trembling slightly.
At an angle neither Ryusuke nor Himeko could see, the corners of his mouth were twitching madly, his features contorted into an extremely bizarre shape.
Kalpas? The Kindling private kitchen?
After a brief crash, Su Yu's brain began racing furiously.
A scene from a few months ago popped up automatically in his mind—he'd fixed the broken range hood in Kalpas's kitchen, and Kalpas, in his delight, had brought out a bowl of Red Braised Pork.
He still remembered the taste of that bowl of Red Braised Pork.
Marbled fat and lean. Melting the moment it touched the tongue.
The sauce coating the rice was good enough to make you swallow your tongue along with it.
And now Ryusuke was telling him that this thing was called "world-class cuisine," that you had to book three months in advance just to eat it.
He'd fixed a range hood and freeloaded several meals out of it.
How could the world be this small? How could the plot be this absurd?
Su Yu bit down hard on his lip, fighting with all his might to force the laughter that was about to burst out back down into his stomach.
He even had to dig his nails into his palm, using the slight pain to barely keep his body steady and stop himself from laughing out loud on the spot.
Ryusuke observed Su Yu's reaction.
Watching the young man with his head bowed and shoulders trembling slightly, the corner of his mouth curled into a knowing, cold smile.
In his view, it was the shame and trembling born of inferiority and an unbridgeable class chasm.
This was exactly the result he wanted.
An ugly duckling that had blundered into a flock of swans, having now glimpsed the true sky, had only one choice: to lower its head and accept its fate.
Himeko looked at Su Yu with concern, her hand already secretly clenched into a fist below, ready at any moment to fall out with her old man to protect her "fake boyfriend."
"Mm." Su Yu said, his voice a little muffled. "I've heard of it."
He turned his face toward the window.
The glass reflected his profile, the curve of his lips pressed down again and again, again and again.
Can't laugh. Absolutely cannot laugh.
Hold it in.
Fenghuang's voice drifted faintly into his mind.
"...What are you laughing at?"
"I'm not laughing."
"Your mental fluctuations are shaking."
"That's because I'm doing isometric contraction training, of the facial muscle groups—"
The MPV came to a stop in front of a low-key gray building.
No neon sign, no flashy decor.
A wooden door, half-shut, with two small gilded characters set into the frame—Kindling.
A young man in a black vest stood at the entrance, holding a reservation book, his expression polite but distant.
Ryusuke got out first, straightened his cuffs, and stepped forward.
His stride was steady, his aura fully unleashed, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting once under the eaves light.
That bearing was like the way one might make an entrance at the Davos Forum.
The receptionist flipped through the reservation book.
"Apologies, sir," the young man's expression didn't waver in the slightest, "Chef Kalpas is in a bad mood today and is closed to guests. Please come another day."
Ryusuke's foot, poised to step up onto the stairs, froze stiffly in midair.
The very flow of the air around him seemed to stall, and the cicadas chirping in the plane trees sounded especially grating at that moment.
The table he'd spent a fortune and pulled strings to secure—meant to display the class barrier in front of this penniless young man—and yet he hadn't even made it through the door.
Ryusuke drew his foot back, made a fist at his lips and coughed twice heavily, then took the chance to adjust his tie, trying to cover the embarrassment that was nearly spilling over.
He turned his head, looked at Su Yu standing at the foot of the steps, and quickly readjusted back into that condescending elder's posture.
"They say Chef Kalpas is just that... eccentric in nature." His voice was still steady, but his pace was half a beat quicker than before. "Still, a man of true ability being a bit odd-tempered is understandable."
It was a smoothly crafted remark.
It gave himself a way out while slyly needling Su Yu—See that?
That's how truly capable people are; it's not for ordinary folk to comment.
You're no different.
Su Yu stood at the foot of the steps, hands stuffed in his pockets.
He bowed his head, his shoulders trembling slightly from the effort of restraining his laughter.
He was afraid that the moment he lifted his head, he'd snort with laughter like a pig right in front of this titan.
The receptionist standing on the threshold had been about to close the door when his gaze inadvertently swept over Su Yu at the bottom of the steps.
His door-closing motion froze instantly.
"Brother Yu?!"
The receptionist tucked the reservation book under his arm, rushed over taking three steps as two, and threw out a fist to bump it against Su Yu's.
"You should've told me you were coming!"
Before Su Yu could even respond, the young man had already opened the floodgates, talking as fast as a machine gun.
"Brother Kalpas was just grumbling about you, saying you brat aren't loyal enough—you got yourself a girlfriend and didn't even bring her over for a meal. Are you looking down on his cooking or what—"
The receptionist's voice cut off, his gaze sweeping back and forth twice between Su Yu, the dumbstruck Himeko beside him, and Ryusuke up on the steps with a livid face.
"You sly devil." The receptionist leaned half a step closer and lowered his voice. "Murata Ryusuke is your father-in-law? Why didn't you say so!"
Su Yu finally couldn't help lifting his head, rubbed his cheeks that had gone stiff from holding back laughter, and replied in an equally low voice: "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You haven't heard of Murata Ryusuke?" The receptionist rolled his eyes. "This guy's offended more people than you can count—nose stuck in the air, looks at everyone like they're ants. The moment Brother Kalpas heard he had to cook for someone like that today, he just lost all his mood and said he wasn't taking guests."
The receptionist paused, reached out to pat Su Yu's shoulder, and grinned.
"But since he's your father-in-law, that's a whole different story. Brother Kalpas said it himself—for your sake, Kindling will still make an exception."
Standing a few steps away, Ryusuke and Himeko couldn't make out a word of what the two young men were muttering about.
They only saw that the receptionist, who had been cold as ice just moments ago, was now draping an arm over Su Yu's shoulder, laughing like an old buddy of ten years.
In less than half a minute, the receptionist turned around, walked back up the steps, and pushed open that heavy black walnut door.
"Mr. Ryusuke, Miss Himeko." The smile on the receptionist's face was still warm, but with an added measure of respect. "Please come inside; Brother Kalpas has already started prepping the dishes."
Ryusuke stood where he was, not stepping forward right away.
He was no fool. The before-and-after contrast in attitude was so stark that the cause could only lie with that young man he'd thoroughly looked down on.
Ryusuke turned his head, his gaze pinning onto Himeko's face as if it were something physical.
That look seemed to silently demand: This penniless boyfriend of yours, renting in a run-down complex, who doesn't even own a car—how does he know Kalpas?
The three were led by the receptionist to a relatively quiet semi-private booth and seated.
Himeko sat to Su Yu's right, Ryusuke sat across from them.
Under the dim lighting, Himeko picked up the lemon water in front of her and took a sip. Under the cover of the glass, those eyes that usually carried a hint of tipsiness were now quietly sizing up Su Yu beside her.
Su Yu's connection to the Golden Courtyard was no secret—she'd seen with her own eyes Elysia drag Su Yu, who'd been holed up at home playing games, off the couch to join a team-building outing, a scene just like lifting a kitten by the scruff.
She'd once asked Su Yu out of curiosity why he was always running off to that crowd of immortals every other day.
At the time, Su Yu, while bent over fiddling with the game code in his hands, had answered offhandedly: "Oh, I just go to be the handyman from downstairs, fixing their broken appliances, unclogging drains and stuff—earning a little side money, you know."
At the time Himeko had rolled her eyes, thinking the kid was just spouting nonsense.
But now it seemed...
Even a top-tier chef like Kalpas, whose temper was so foul he wouldn't even give the mayor face, had to do him a favor.
The web of personal connections this kid Su Yu had accumulated in this world was probably far more unfathomable than he let on.
Himeko looked at Su Yu's profile, an extra layer of heat in her gaze.
This little brother—no, this boyfriend—no, that's not right either...
In any case: sensible, considerate, not bad-looking, and well-connected too.
Way better than those blind-date prospects her old man kept nagging about, right?
Had she known, she should have, from the very start...
Maybe it was the bit of aperitif she'd had, but Himeko felt her body grow slightly warm.
Under the table she gently stretched out her crossed legs, and her knee, clad in black stockings, seemed to graze the outer side of Su Yu's thigh as if by accident.
Through the thin suit fabric, that touch of warmth felt especially vivid in the cool, air-conditioned room.
She didn't withdraw her leg right away, instead maintaining that near-yet-distant contact, watching Su Yu's reaction from the corner of her eye, the faintest trace of a smile curling at her lips.
Su Yu's body stiffened slightly, but he kept his expression well under control, merely picking up his water glass for a sip without a trace, as though nothing had happened.
Ryusuke, seated across from them, clearly hadn't noticed the undercurrents surging beneath the table.
The dishes came quickly.
The first—a sashimi platter.
Salmon, arctic surf clam, botan shrimp, their cut faces so neat it was as if they'd been measured with a vernier caliper.
The second—steamed grouper.
The fish flesh was luminously white, shredded scallions spread on top, the steam carrying the aroma of soy sauce drilling straight up into the nostrils.
The third—
Su Yu picked up a piece of Red Braised Pork and put it in his mouth.
The taste was exactly the same as what he'd eaten in the Golden Courtyard's communal kitchen.
Ryusuke was eating too. He said nothing.
But his chewing speed betrayed him—at least thirty percent faster than usual.
Himeko, holding a piece of fish in her chopsticks, swept her peripheral gaze back and forth between the two men.
The atmosphere—hard to say whether it had eased, or grown even more subtle.
Partway through the latter half of the meal, footsteps came from the kitchen.
The door of the private room was pushed open.
Kalpas appeared.
Tall. Burly.
Half his face was hidden behind his signature black mask, leaving only a pair of sharp eyes exposed.
His apron was still on, dotted with stray flecks of sauce.
He stood at the door like a moving iron tower, his gaze sweeping over the three people at the table.
Ryusuke reflexively set down his knife and fork and straightened his posture.
"Chef Kalpas," his voice recovered that elite composure, "today's dishes—are truly breathtaking. The heat control on the grouper was nothing short of perfect, and the precision of the sashimi cuts fully embodies your utmost respect for the ingredients—"
Kalpas looked at him. The eyes behind the mask showed not a single ripple.
"Mm."
Just one simple word. With nothing more to follow.
Ryusuke's mouth hung open, the latter half of his praise stuck in his throat, unable to go up or down.
Kalpas's gaze fell on Su Yu.
The eyebrow beneath that mask moved.
Those eyes, originally cold to the point of near cruelty, suddenly took on a faint, barely perceptible warmth.
"Kid." Kalpas's voice dropped half a register, gruff but carrying genuine concern. "How's the Red Braised Pork compared to last time? I adjusted the sauce ratio a bit."
Su Yu put down his chopsticks and nodded at Kalpas.
"Delicious. The sauce is a touch richer than last time, but not greasy, and the fatty parts melt away cleaner."
"Good, you've still got a bit of a palate, kid."
He sat down in the empty chair across from Su Yu, draped his apron over his legs, his manner as casual as if he were in his own living room.
"That range hood you fixed for me last time hasn't had a single problem since. When you get a chance, take a look at the mixer too—lately it keeps clunking whenever I beat eggs—"
"Sure."
"And there's the oven's temperature control—"
"Brother Kalpas, one thing at a time."
Kalpas grunted, but wasn't actually displeased.
He leaned back against the chair, crossed his thick arms over his chest, and his gaze swept across to the other side.
Ryusuke sat there, spine straight, his knife and fork laid out neatly in his hands.
But at this moment his whole body was as stiff as a waxed statue.
Kalpas looked at him for two seconds, the emotion in his eyes hard to read.
Then he turned his gaze back to Su Yu.
"Next time you come, give me a heads-up in advance, and I'll keep a stove open for you."
He paused.
"Don't bring any outsiders besides you and your girlfriend."
He said it lightly, but at this distance, anyone who wasn't hard of hearing could make it out clearly.
Murata Ryusuke clearly was not hard of hearing.
Ryusuke picked up his teacup and took a sip, hiding his expression.
Himeko lowered her head, pretending to look at the fish bones on her plate, the laughter she bit back at her lips nearly impossible to contain.
Kalpas stood up.
When he reached the door he paused, without turning his head.
"I saved a dessert for you," Kalpas said. "Crème caramel—the one you said you liked last time."
His shoulders turned at a slight angle, and his gaze behind the mask swept over Ryusuke.
"Just one."
Before long, the dessert was brought out.
Indeed, there was only a single crème caramel, placed in front of Su Yu.
The caramel surface was baked golden-brown; a light tap with the spoon and it cracked open with a "crack," revealing the silky, satin-smooth custard layer beneath.
A sweet, caramelized fragrance filled the air.
Su Yu scooped up a spoonful and put it in his mouth.
The sweetness was just right.
He looked up, meeting Ryusuke's gaze exactly.
Su Yu said nothing, merely pushing the pudding toward Himeko.
"Want a taste?"
Himeko nodded.
Su Yu noticed Murata Ryusuke's gaze; he turned his face and gave him a polite smile.
Ryusuke's temples throbbed twice, and he suddenly felt his blood pressure rising.
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