Someone did this on purpose.
The thought remained in Vash's mind long after the System window disappeared.
He stood in the middle of Grandpa's Noodles, looking at the damage.
The restaurant was quiet now.
Too quiet.
Only a few customers remained outside, talking among themselves before leaving.
Grandma was slowly picking up broken pieces from the floor.
Grandpa was trying to move one of the damaged chairs away from the entrance.
Vash immediately walked over.
"Grandpa, let me do that."
"I'm fine."
"You shouldn't be lifting it."
Grandpa stopped.
For a moment, he looked at Vash.
Then he quietly released the chair.
"All right."
Vash grabbed it and moved it aside.
His eyes traveled across the restaurant.
The damage wasn't catastrophic.
The walls were still standing.
The kitchen equipment was mostly untouched.
The stove still worked.
The refrigerator was fine.
But the things they had built their daily life around had been damaged.
Three wooden tables had been badly damaged.
Several chairs were broken or cracked.
Plates had shattered across the floor.
A number of spoons and other utensils had been bent, lost, or scattered.
The restaurant's old signboard had been damaged.
And worst of all, the main entrance gate had been broken.
Vash slowly calculated everything in his head.
Three tables.
About $120 each to repair or replace.
Six damaged chairs.
Around $35 each.
Plates and bowls.
Maybe $150 altogether.
Spoons, utensils, and smaller kitchen items.
Around $80.
The signboard could probably be repaired instead of replaced.
About $180.
The main gate was another problem.
That would cost around $450 to repair properly.
Then there would be cleaning, small repairs, transportation, and other unexpected costs.
Vash took a breath.
He added everything together.
Approximately—
$1,600.
His chest felt heavy.
That wasn't money they could casually throw away.
Even though the restaurant was earning more now, $1,600 was still a significant amount for his grandparents.
And this money wouldn't buy anything new for them.
It wouldn't improve the restaurant.
It wouldn't buy ingredients.
It wouldn't help them move into a better home.
It would simply replace things someone had destroyed.
Vash looked down.
Why?
His grandparents had never cheated anyone.
They hadn't stolen customers.
They hadn't threatened another restaurant.
They had simply cooked food and served people.
Grandma noticed his expression.
"Vash."
He looked up.
"Don't think too much about it."
"But they damaged our restaurant."
"I know."
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Grandma gave him a tired smile.
"Neither did you."
Vash didn't answer.
That was exactly what bothered him.
They had spent so much time trying to build something good.
And someone had decided to hurt them anyway.
---
The three of them worked until late.
Vash swept the floor.
Grandma collected the broken dishes.
Grandpa checked what could be repaired and what needed to be replaced.
But they couldn't finish everything.
The main gate needed proper work.
The signboard needed attention.
Several tables couldn't safely be used.
And there was no way they could clean the entire restaurant and prepare enough food for the next day's customers.
Grandpa finally closed the notebook he had been using to record the damage.
"We're not opening tomorrow."
Vash looked at him.
"But—"
"No."
Grandpa's voice was firm.
"We need one day."
Vash understood.
If they opened while the restaurant was damaged, customers would see the broken furniture and disorder.
It would make the situation worse.
They needed to repair the place properly.
Grandma nodded.
"We'll clean everything tomorrow."
Vash looked at the restaurant one more time.
"Okay."
He hated saying it.
But he knew Grandpa was right.
---
The next morning, Vash woke earlier than usual.
For a moment, he forgot what had happened.
Then he remembered.
The damaged tables.
The broken gate.
Grandma cleaning the floor.
His mood immediately dropped.
He got ready for school anyway.
He wanted to stay and help.
But Grandpa refused.
"You have school."
"I can help for a few hours."
"You can help when you return."
"But—"
"Vash."
Grandpa looked at him seriously.
"Your life can't stop every time something goes wrong."
Vash went silent.
Those words stayed with him.
His grandparents had sacrificed almost everything after his accident.
They had sold their house.
They had spent their savings.
They had rebuilt their lives around the restaurant.
And now they were telling him to go to school while they dealt with another problem.
Vash finally nodded.
"I'll go."
"Good."
Grandma smiled.
"Study properly."
"I will."
Vash picked up his backpack.
Before leaving, he looked at the damaged restaurant.
"I'll help after school."
Grandpa nodded.
"We'll be here."
---
The restaurant remained closed.
The chairs were stacked to one side.
The damaged tables had been moved away from the dining area.
Grandma was cleaning what she could.
Grandpa was inspecting the entrance.
Neither of them noticed the large vehicle stopping outside.
The door opened.
The gang boss stepped out.
He had come expecting his usual meal.
Instead, he stopped.
His eyes moved across the restaurant.
The damaged sign.
The broken gate.
The overturned furniture.
The empty dining area.
His expression changed.
"What happened here?"
Grandpa looked toward him.
The boss stepped inside.
He didn't touch anything.
He simply looked.
Then he noticed Grandma trying to move a damaged chair.
"Leave that."
Grandma stopped.
"We're cleaning."
"You shouldn't be doing that yourself."
"We have no choice."
The boss's jaw tightened.
"Who did this?"
Grandpa shook his head.
"We don't know."
"Who?"
"We really don't know."
The boss looked at the broken gate.
Then at the tables.
Then at the damaged sign.
His expression became colder.
"Did they threaten you?"
"No."
"Did they ask for money?"
Grandpa shook his head.
"No."
The boss turned back toward the entrance.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he pulled out his phone.
"Find out who did this."
One of his men immediately stepped forward.
"Yes."
"Don't make assumptions."
The boss's voice was calm, but firm.
"I want to know exactly what happened."
Grandpa looked surprised.
"You don't need to get involved."
The boss looked at him.
"They're under my protection."
Grandpa didn't know what to say.
The boss looked around again.
"This place is where you live too."
He pointed toward the damaged tables.
"Get those repaired."
Grandma immediately shook her head.
"We'll pay for it."
"No."
"We can't let you spend your money."
The boss looked at her.
"Consider it compensation for something that happened under my watch."
"But—"
"No."
He turned toward his men.
"Get someone who knows how to repair furniture. Get the gate fixed. Replace whatever cannot be repaired."
Grandpa hesitated.
"We can pay for the materials."
The boss considered it for a moment.
"Fine."
Grandpa looked relieved.
"Thank you."
"But the labor is mine."
Grandpa didn't argue.
---
While all of this was happening, Vash was sitting in his classroom.
He had no idea what was happening at the restaurant.
His teacher was explaining a new lesson.
Vash copied the notes carefully.
His mind occasionally drifted back to the damaged restaurant.
Three tables.
Six chairs.
Signboard.
Gate.
About $1,600.
He couldn't stop thinking about it.
He knew they would recover.
The restaurant was still standing.
The kitchen still worked.
His grandparents were safe.
But something had changed.
Before, he had thought of the restaurant as something that simply needed to grow.
Now he understood something else.
Growth attracted attention.
Some people would be happy for them.
Some would become customers.
Some might even help.
And some—
might see their success as a threat.
Vash looked down at his notebook.
His fingers tightened around his pen.
I need to find out who did this.
But he also knew something important.
He couldn't simply accuse someone.
He needed evidence.
A reason.
A connection.
A pattern.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Pattern Recognition.
Business Sense.
Observation.
Maybe those abilities could help.
But they wouldn't magically tell him the truth.
He would have to investigate.
He would have to think.
And most importantly—
he would have to be careful.
Because whoever had damaged Grandpa's Noodles had already shown that they were willing to cross a line.
Vash returned his attention to the teacher.
The investigation could wait until after school.
For now, he had another lesson to finish.
And somewhere across town, the search for the culprit had already begun.