The afternoon became a frantic, exhilarating blur. The noblewoman's patronage had been like a royal decree. The dam of skepticism broke, and a steady stream of customers flowed to his stall. They called the strange food "Nadles," a bastardization of his own word that quickly became its official name in the plaza.
Leo worked feverishly, his hands a blur of motion. Rip open a packet, boil Clarity water, add noodles, stir, serve. His little propane stove, a marvel of engineering in this world, worked flawlessly. He answered the same questions over and over.
"What is this yellow brick?"
"It softens in the water, a culinary magic!"
"Where does the flavor come from?"
"From this mystical silver powder!"
He played the part of the enigmatic mage-chef to the hilt. Every customer who ate a bowl felt that now-familiar, gentle wave of rejuvenation from the Clarity water. They left not just full, but refreshed. The word spread through the plaza like wildfire: the strange vendor in the striped stall was selling cheap, delicious, restorative food.
He sold his tenth bowl, then his twentieth, then his fortieth. His little trash bag was filling up with empty packets and used forks. His coin pouch, a simple leather bag he'd bought from a nearby stall, was getting heavy with silver pieces.
He sold his fiftieth and final packet to a tired-looking city guard, who ate it standing up and immediately declared he felt ready for another full shift.
A new customer immediately stepped forward. "I'll have a bowl of Nadles!"
Leo held up his hands, forcing a regretful look onto his face. "Apologies, my good sirs and ladies, but that was the last one! I am… out of stock!"
A collective groan went through the small crowd.
"Out of stock already?"
"When will you have more, Mage-Chef?"
"I shall return on the morrow, with a fresh supply!" Leo announced grandly.
In truth, he had hundreds more packets stored in his bathroom-pantry. But he was utterly exhausted. The mental and physical strain of running a one-man food stall in another dimension for hours was immense. His feet hurt, his back ached, and his social battery was completely drained. He couldn't keep this up alone. He needed an employee for this world, too.
With his audience watching, he began his cleanup. He meticulously wiped down his stall, broke down the stove, and put every single piece of trash into his bag. He left his patch of cobblestone cleaner than he had found it.
Then came the grand finale. He folded up his stall, a complex maneuver that made it look like he was using origami to collapse a building. Under the astonished gazes of everyone in the plaza, he made his final few trips. First with the stove and trash, then the stall itself, disappearing into the dusty storeroom doorway and reappearing empty-handed mere moments later.
For his last trip, he paused at the threshold. He looked out at the sea of baffled, amazed faces. He gave them a theatrical bow. "Until tomorrow!"
And then he stepped back and vanished, the shimmering doorway disappearing behind him, leaving only an empty patch of cobblestone and a plaza full of people wondering if they had just witnessed a dream.
Leo stumbled back into the quiet sanity of his bathroom, dropping his coin pouch on the tiled floor with a heavy, satisfying thud. The transition was always jarring. One moment, a fantasy city; the next, beige suburbia.
He leaned against the cool wall, breathing heavily. His first day as an interdimensional street vendor had been a roaring success. He had enough local currency to start his fairy rescue operation.
But it was too much work. His mind was already turning, as it always did, to logistics. He couldn't run a noodle stand, a bottling company, an enchanted farm, and be the CEO. He needed a manager for his Nadle stand. A local employee.
But how do you even begin to interview someone from a different world? The thought made his head hurt. That was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, he needed to count his silver, take a hot shower, and sleep for a solid twelve hours.