The city didn't rise—it staggered, coughed, and cursed its own sunlight.
Which made Kairo De Luca feel right at home.
He stood outside Salt & Smoke in the grey bleed of dawn, unlocking the metal shutters as if they were the gates to something sacred. Beneath his hoodie, his muscles ached. The kind of deep, honest pain that meant something had been earned.
Smoke still clung to the wood from the day before.
The first day.
The one that turned whispers into footsteps.
That fed mouths who'd forgotten what real food tasted like.
That called ghosts out of alleyways and made them human again for a bite.
He exhaled, breath steaming in the morning chill. A soft breeze tugged at his apron.
"Day two," he muttered. "Let's see who's hungry."
By 7:45 a.m., two regulars had returned.
By 8:10, there were eight people waiting.
By 8:30, a line began to form—curved, crooked, coiled like a question around the side street.
Fishermen. Bricklayers. Mechanics.
One busker with a broken guitar.
A woman pushing a stroller.
A priest.
Kairo barely spoke.
He let the food speak for him.
The System worked beneath his skin like a second pulse, highlighting which herbs would offset fatigue, which spices activated hunger triggers, and which dish was ideal based on time of day, temperature, and foot traffic patterns.
Flatbreads sizzled. Tarts rose. The citrus-fennel tea came off the boil with the kind of steam that drew attention from across the block.
It wasn't a stall anymore.
It was a signal.
"Influence is currency. Learn to spend it before someone steals it."
Kairo snorted. "Copy that."
By 10:00, they were out of chairs.
By 10:30, people were standing on crates.
By 11:00, other vendors started closing shop.
Not because they ran out of food.
Because they ran out of customers.
The air smelled like roasted garlic, citrus zest, and cracked pepper.
People started calling out orders by nickname.
"Hey, give me that fire-breathing tomato!"
" Yo lemme get the sunrise tea and the golden crunch!"
"You still got that egg bomb sandwich?"
Kairo didn't need to advertise.
His food was the ad.
And the line didn't lie.
It happened just after noon.
A woman mid-thirties, sharp suit, tired eyes, sat down with a slice of lemon-basil flatbread and a glass of citrus tea.
First bite.
The second.
And then third.
She choked.
One gasp.
Then another, then others followed.
Kairo moved instantly.
He vaulted the counter and caught her as she collapsed. He slid his arms under hers, one fist clenched under her sternum.
One
She coughed.
Two
She wheezed.
A chunk of underchewed crust shot from her throat and skidded across the stone.
She collapsed into the chair, gasping. Alive.
For five full seconds, the street was silent.
Then the applause followed.
A rough, ragged wave of it. From the crowd. From the windows. From someone filming with their phone.
Kairo didn't smile. Didn't bow.
He just went back behind the counter.
"Next."
At 1:06 p.m., they arrived.
Two men. Identical brown button-ups.
Not uniforms—but coordinated, casual enough to blend in, precise enough to mean something.
They didn't get in line. They watched.
Kairo noticed. Didn't react.
He grilled three flatbreads, filled two orders, and sliced fennel with mechanical precision.
The men approached at 1:12.
"Nice setup," said the taller one. "Don't see a city license posted, though."
Kairo didn't speak. He reached beneath the counter, pulled out a folder, and handed over crisp, freshly printed paperwork.
Business registration. Vendor certification. Tax ID. Food safety checklist.
All real. All verified by the System's shadow network. All squeaky clean.
The shorter man flipped through it.
"You De Luca?"
Kairo nodded once.
"Interesting."
"Why?"
"You're making waves."
Kairo returned the papers. "Let me know when they crash."
The men left.
[System Alert]
"Il Ponte" Agents Confirmed – Category: Watchdogs
Influence Threshold Detected – You Are Now a Blip
Suggested Action: Increase Visibility Strategically OR Return to Stealth Mode
"A legend that grows too fast attracts fire. But fire makes ash, and ash feeds new soil."
By 2:30 p.m., Kairo was running out of ingredients.
System delivery was three hours away.
Any other vendor would've shut down. Closed up. Apologized.
Kairo made a decision.
He grabbed the last tray of citrus tartlets, stacked the final five tomato flatbreads, poured the last tea, and handed them out for free.
No explanations. No posters.
He just looked them in the eye and said:
"Eat. And tell someone what it tasted like."
A dockhand tried to hand him a five-euro note.
Kairo shook his head. "Buy it tomorrow."
By 3:15, he was empty-handed.
But the street was buzzing.
[System Update]
Reputation Boost Activated: +712% Word-of-Mouth Expansion
Public Modifier: "The Chef Who Gives It Away" Seeded
Urban Legend Counter: 3% Completion
"When you give without asking, they talk without stopping."
At 5:22 p.m., as Kairo swept flour off the prep board, a man stepped out of the alley.
Thick forearms. Greasy apron. Burn scar on the neck.
Santo.
The owner of a fried seafood cart four streets down. Veteran vendor. Protected by local hands.
"Busy day," he said.
Kairo didn't stop sweeping.
"You feeding the saints now, or just the pigeons?"
Kairo paused. Looked up.
"I feed whoever walks."
Santo nodded. "Used to be a balance here. You're messing with it."
"I'm cooking."
"You're building."
Kairo met his eyes. "Then maybe it's time someone else did."
A moment passed.
Street quiet.
Boats moored at the dock.
Santo said, "If your supply line dries up next week, don't blame the salt."
Kairo stepped forward.
"If your teeth go missing next week, don't blame the bread."
The two men stood. Eye to eye.
Then Santo left.
[System Alert]
Minor Threat: Santo Russo – Local Businessman(Neutral Hostility)
Passive Countermeasures Available: Negotiation Path / Covert Sabotage / Ignore
"Empire doesn't mean peace. It means you choose your wars."
By sunset, Kairo was alone.
The street smelled like him now.
Charred oil. Zested lemon. Burnt air and ambition.
He sat behind the stall. Cracked his knuckles. Watched the System display.
Daily Revenue: €850.50
Total Revenue: €973.50
Mission Bonus: 97.3% Complete
Publicity Level: Local Tier 2 (Rising Urban Myth)
"You made them watch. Now make them wait."
He got home at midnight.
Didn't turn on the light.
Just sat on the mattress, tore open a loaf of warm bread, and dipped it into citrus sauce he'd bottled in secret from the farm realm.
One bite.
He didn't smile.
He survived it.
The System thrummed behind his thoughts like a second heart.
Kairo De Luca. Slumborn. Hustler. Cook. Ghost with a blade in his hand and fire in his chest.
They wanted food.
He'd give them flavor but at a cost.
They wanted dreams.
He'd sell them real hunger.
And the city?
The city would never forget the taste of ashes.