Kafka sat silently, his gaze fixed out the window. Though his face remained unreadable, something behind his eyes had drifted far from the cozy breakfast setting.
He wasn't seeing the gentle sway of trees, the distant chatter of pedestrians, or the golden hue of morning light.
No. His mind was elsewhere, up there. In the skies.
In the world above, thinking about the absence of requests
He leaned slightly back in his seat, brows subtly furrowing.
'Evangeline...What are you up to now?'
And also his mother. A goddess of unfathomable power, and an even greater appetite for chaos. He still remembered the last time she had tried to breach the mortal realm.
The entire sky had cracked with thunder. Oceans stirred...Time itself seemed to slow.
He could still feel the pressure in his bones from that day. The deep hum of the world shaking, as if existence itself was trying to resist her descent.
And if she tried again...
'No,' he muttered silently. 'That can't happen again. It won't happen again. I won't let it.'
Just as a flicker of anxiety flashed through his eyes, a voice pierced through his thoughts.
"Kafi..."
He didn't react.
"Kafi..."
Still no response.
"Kafka!"
His eyes blinked, head turning in a small start as he looked toward Olivia. She had leaned forward, eyes narrowing in concern.
"Finally..." She sighed with relief, slumping slightly against the table. "I've been calling you for like...a full minute. You totally zoned out. What's wrong? You were just staring off into space like something serious happened."
He looked at her for a long moment before blinking the fog away, and smiled, just a little too quickly.
"Nah." He said, voice light and casual. "Just...thinking about all the dishes I'm about to eat."
Olivia raised a brow, unconvinced. But his tone was back to its usual lazy confidence, and his grin that charming lilt. She slowly relaxed again.
'No need to think about heaven right now.' He told himself firmly. 'This is more important.'
He glanced at her, at her soft expression, the gentle curve of her lips, the way the sunlight glinted in her hair.
'Focus on her. This moment. This breakfast. This is what matters right now.'
"Alright." Olivia said with a small sigh. "As long as you're okay..."
She gave him a soft smile, and then gestured dramatically to the space in front of them.
"Because while you were floating off into another dimension, the food arrived."
Kafka's brows lifted slightly.
"What?"
"Yep." Olivia gestured both hands grandly toward the half-filled table. "One waiter couldn't even carry it all. A whole fleet of waiters came marching in like they were part of a parade."
"Every single one had two or three dishes in their hands, and they just started unloading them right here like it was a royal banquet."
Kafka looked down, and let out a low whistle.
Before him stretched a glorious spread of breakfast delights: golden waffles stacked with whipped cream and strawberries, fluffy omelets filled with cheese and herbs, crispy hash browns, steaming breakfast burritos, glistening French toast drizzled with syrup, buttery croissants, soft scrambled eggs, toasted granola with fruit, avocado toast layered like artwork, sausage patties, poached eggs garnished with microgreens, each dish lined up like soldiers ready to be devoured.
"Damn..." He muttered. "That was fast. I ordered all this and figured I'd be waiting for at least half an hour."
"Well..." Olivia chuckled. "Apparently the chef personally went into overdrive. One of the waiters told me he got fired up the moment your order came in."
Kafka glanced toward the kitchen.
"Speaking of which...look over there." Olivia said, nodding toward the swinging kitchen doors.
Sure enough, peeking through a narrow crack was the chef himself, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, watching their table like a hawk.
"He's checking to see if you're actually going to eat all of it." Olivia added in a hushed voice. "He's got that 'don't you dare waste my hard work' look."
Kafka let out a short laugh. "That's fair."
He looked down again at the mountain of food before him, then at Olivia's own modest two plates: a beautifully arranged stack of blueberry pancakes and a side of bacon, crisped to perfection.
"Compared to your cute little plates." He said, glancing back at her. "This looks like a battlefield."
Olivia gave a sheepish smile. Her eyes, however, flicked subtly toward one of the omelets on his side. Then the croissants. Then the hash browns.
Kafka narrowed his eyes.
"You want some, don't you?"
Her head jerked back. "Wha—!? N-No! I mean, I'm perfectly fine with what I ordered!" She stared hard at her pancakes, as if they'd save her. "I don't need more..."
He tilted his head. "Mom."
She squirmed.
"Okay, maybe a little bit..." She admitted, turning red. "But only because it all smells so good! I swear I was going to stay loyal to my bacon and pancakes!"
Kafka grinned. "Relax. You can have a taste. Your tiny spoonfuls won't even make a dent in all this."
"You sure?" She asked, voice still a little unsure. "I don't want you to end up hungry because of me."
Kafka gave a smug smile. "Trust me, Mom. If you don't take your share now, it'll all be gone before you know it."
That did it. Wanting to have a taste of everything that looked so delicious, she reached forward in a panic and grabbed her spoon like a sword, immediately diving into one of the omelets, taking a generous bite.
"Mmh...! So fluffy..." She mumbled, eyes lighting up.
Next, the hash browns. Crispy perfection.
Then a bite of the sausage. Juicy and savory.
One by one, she sampled the dishes with reverence, eyes wide in delight.
"Everything tastes amazing!" She said, chewing happily. "I mean, back in the city, we've got great food, but this? Sitting in a sunny little café, warm morning light, and with my dear son...it's just different, you know?"
Kafka smiled, genuinely touched. "Yeah. It really is."
Then, without another word, he picked up his fork and began eating.
No, devouring.
Olivia had just finished chewing a bite of croissant when she looked up and nearly dropped her fork.
"Wait, what the...Kafi?!"
In less than a minute, Kafka had already cleared the waffles, an entire stack, in a couple of heaping spoonfuls.
He didn't stop. The omelets? Vanished. Hash browns? Gulped. French toast? Gone.
"You're a monster." Olivia whispered in awe. "A breakfast-devouring monster."
Kafka merely winked, mid-chew, then went for the avocado toast next. And Olivia couldn't help but laugh.
Still smiling, she told herself she should probably start eating too, there was no point waiting any longer. Especially with the way Kafka was tearing through his mountain of dishes.
She only had two plates, but at the pace he was going, he was definitely going to finish before her. She picked up her fork and knife and started digging into her pancakes, taking a small bite first, then slowly savoring it.
They sat in a warm, companionable silence.
Kafka was laser-focused on the meal in front of him, switching from one dish to the next with the kind of enthusiasm only someone deeply in love with food could muster.
Olivia, on the other hand, took smaller, more measured bites, yet even as she ate, her gaze kept drifting toward him.
She admired the way he ate without holding back, like every bite was its own celebration. She loved watching him this way.
And when she glanced at the chef, she noticed he was watching too, his arms folded, wearing a proud, almost smug look on his face. It was obvious from his expression: Kafka's reaction to the food had thoroughly satisfied him.
Olivia's chest swelled with pride.
—
Kafka eventually wiped the last bit of sauce from a bowl, leaned back slightly, and let out a loud, satisfied sigh.
"That was good. That was delicious."
Olivia, who had just taken the last bite of her pancakes and was now slowly chewing a piece of bacon, gave a long, exaggerated sigh.
"You really finished it all..."
Her eyes were wide as she stared at his completely empty plates, more than twenty of them stacked up in neat towers.
"I saw you eating it...but I still can't believe it's already gone."
"Of course." Kafka said proudly, rubbing his bloated stomach. "When you put food this good in front of me, it's only natural I stuff myself until I can't move." His voice dropped a little, and his eyes shifted to her with a glint. "Same goes for the woman next to me."
He pulled her gently toward him with one hand, his other sneaking around her waist to give her side a playful squeeze.
"When someone this beautiful is sitting beside me...it's hard not to want to put my hands all over her."
Olivia's cheeks turned red. She didn't pull away. She just leaned slightly into his touch, letting him enjoy it.
Kafka's gaze then shifted to her barely-touched second plate. "You know." He said, laughing. "I had over twenty dishes and I still finished faster than you. What's taking you so long, Mom?"
"I'm not a dish-devouring demon like you, Kafi." She narrowed her eyes and shot him a pout. "I like to take my time and enjoy my food, thank you very much."
Still poking at her bacon, she added, "Besides, the pancakes were absolutely divine. Fluffy, buttery, sweet, but this bacon? I don't know. It's just...not doing it for me."
She poked at the limp strips with her fork.
"It doesn't have any flavor right now. No saltiness, no sweetness. It's too soft. I don't want to waste it, but I really don't feel like eating it either."
Kafka smirked. "So basically...you're being a picky eater, Mom."
"I'm not being picky!" She snapped, puffing out her cheeks. "I love bacon. But I like it my way. Crispy, with flavor, not...sad and floppy like this."
She let out a tiny sigh. "Still...I'm not a kid. I'm not going to ignore a dish just because I don't like it." And with that, she picked up the slice with her fork and brought it close to her mouth—
—only for Kafka to suddenly grab her wrist.
"Wait."
"Huh?...What is it?" She blinked, surprised.
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I have a way to fix it."
She raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "Fix it...?"
He nodded. "Yup. I can make it taste exactly the way you like it. Salty, sweet and full of flavour."
Her eyes sparkled for a second. "Really?"
But then she noticed the sly curve of his lips. The glint in his eyes.
Her expression shifted as her suspicion returned full force.
"...Why do I feel like you've got something dangerous in mind right now?"