They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Lyon like a group of tourists who had absolutely no business knowing how to kill monsters.
Séline and Camille took their jobs as guides very seriously.
They led the group through narrow cobblestone streets, across old bridges over the Rhône and Saône, and through lively squares where musicians were already playing Halloween jazz.
Dominic stopped every so often to take photos.
"Proof we actually leave the dungeon sometimes," he said.
Janet rolled her eyes.
"You're documenting it like a rare wildlife sighting."
"It is rare," Dominic said.
Meanwhile, Phong and Alex walked a little behind the others.
Phong unwrapped the bánh mì he had bought earlier and broke it in half.
He handed the bigger piece to Alex.
"Try it."
She eyed it carefully.
"Vietnamese bread propaganda again?"
"Just eat."
Alex took a bite.
Her expression changed at once.
"…Okay."
She chewed slowly.
"That's actually really good."
Phong smirked.
"Told you."
Alex wiped a crumb from her lip.
"Still doesn't beat a proper German bakery."
Phong shrugged in peace.
"Not arguing."
The rare ceasefire lasted maybe thirty seconds before Dominic started another debate about pastries and colonial trade routes.
Eventually Camille led them into a quieter part of Lyon.
The streets here were calmer.
Less tourist traffic.
More neighborhood warmth.
She stopped in front of a modest but charming building with a wooden sign above the entrance.
Maison Delacroix – Chambres d'Hôtes
"My family's place," Camille said proudly.
It was a small family-run motel.
Not fancy.
But cozy.
Flower boxes in the windows.
Soft yellow light inside.
Séline pointed to the building next door.
"And that one is ours."
Its sign read:
Restaurant Lambert – Cuisine Lyonnaise
The two families had been neighbors for decades.
Business partners too.
Guests staying at the Delacroix motel almost always ate at the Lambert restaurant.
It had become a local habit.
"Customers sleep there," Séline said, pointing at Camille's family motel.
"Then they eat here."
Camille grinned.
"We keep each other alive."
The restaurant was warm and lively inside.
Wooden tables.
Soft candlelight.
Butter, wine, and herbs in the air.
Séline's parents welcomed them warmly.
They were used to divers passing through from time to time. Lyon had become a minor hub thanks to the dungeon gate.
Still, the sight of this many costumed foreigners at once clearly amused them.
Dinner came quickly.
The table filled with traditional French dishes.
Pot-au-feu.
Beef bourguignon.
Coq au vin.
Duck confit.
Ratatouille.
Onion soup under thick melted cheese.
The smell alone could make a person forget dungeon monsters existed.
Phong studied his plate thoughtfully.
He had ordered pot-au-feu.
He tasted it carefully.
Rich broth.
Slow-cooked beef.
Root vegetables.
A deep warmth spreading through his chest.
He nodded.
"Very good."
Alex leaned closer.
"Pho comparison?"
Phong shook his head.
"Not even close."
Dominic raised a brow.
"I thought some historians say pho came from pot-au-feu."
Phong snorted.
"That theory is nonsense."
Everyone looked at him.
He kept eating calmly.
"Pot-au-feu is delicious."
"But pho is a different dish."
He tapped the bowl lightly.
"Different spices."
"Different cooking logic."
"Different cultural roots."
Then he shrugged.
"Some Europeans claiming pho came from pot-au-feu is just historical bias wearing a food hat."
Jake grinned.
"You just called colonial culinary theory racist."
Phong lifted his glass.
"I called it lazy scholarship."
Dominic laughed.
"Fair."
Then the escargot arrived.
Small plates of snails in garlic butter.
Everyone stared at them with caution.
Except Phong.
He picked one up and ate it without hesitation.
Joanne blinked.
"You're just… eating that?"
Phong nodded.
"We have snail dishes in Vietnam too."
Alex tilted her head.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
He explained between bites.
"Usually boiled."
"Then eaten with dipping sauce."
"Fish sauce. Ginger. Lemongrass. Chili."
Jack grimaced a little.
"Snails in fish sauce."
"Sounds intense."
Phong shrugged.
"Tastes great."
No one else touched them.
Dominic slid the plate toward him.
"You can have them."
"Gladly."
The others stayed with more familiar dishes.
Dominic destroyed a plate of beef bourguignon.
Janet slowly enjoyed duck confit.
Jake and Jack shared onion soup and argued over whether angels or demons would prefer French wine.
Alex developed an instant fondness for the coq au vin.
"This is dangerously good."
Camille smiled with pride.
"Family recipe."
Ratatouille went around the table like comfort food.
Simple.
Perfectly done vegetables.
Then Phong noticed something missing.
"No foie gras?"
Séline shook her head.
"My parents stopped serving it."
"Too cruel?"
Camille answered quietly.
"Yeah. They think the production method is too cruel."
Force-feeding ducks and geese for enlarged livers had always been controversial.
Séline's family had decided years ago it was not worth it.
Phong nodded with quiet respect.
"Makes sense."
Dinner stretched long into the evening.
Wine.
Dessert.
Stories.
Séline's parents listened with fascination as the group shared just enough dungeon adventure to be entertaining without revealing too much.
Rico sat proudly on the table.
He had somehow found another energy drink.
Camille's mother stared at the raccoon.
"…Is that normal?"
Dominic sighed.
"Not even slightly."
Outside, Lyon glowed with Halloween lights.
Inside the little family restaurant, Camp Stymphalian finally relaxed.
For one night, they were just travelers sharing food with friends.
No dungeon.
No floor bosses.
No cosmic things watching from the dark.
Just warmth, laughter, and a table full of good food.
Camille had already prepared everything by the time dinner ended.
Before anyone could protest or insist on paying their part, she handed out room keys with a grin.
"Too late," she said. "Already booked."
Dominic stared at the keys.
"…You planned this."
Camille shrugged with fake innocence.
"We knew you were coming."
Séline leaned in the doorway.
"And Lyon during Halloween is too good to waste by sleeping early."
She pointed down the street where music was already drifting through the cool autumn air.
"There's a party nearby."
Live music.
Street-festival style.
Food stalls.
Wine.
A lot of costumes.
Dominic stood up immediately.
"Say no more."
Janet sighed.
"Whenever you say that, troubles seem to follow shortly after."
"Hey, we're still alive, aren't we?"
"That's a low bar."