Day Three — The Golden Eatery: Grand Opening!
(Why wasn't it the second day? Ha. That day last year was the day Aedes Elysiae was reduced to scorched earth. Phaethon would never choose to decorate with lanterns and streamers on that date.)
A minor incident occurred the day before the opening. A man claiming to be a envoy for Council of Elder, dressed impeccably but with shifty eyes, showed up trying to "recruit" Phaethon.
"Lord Phaethon, the Council of Elder appreciates your talents…" The envoy's tone carried a hint of condescending superiority.
Phaethon, polishing his new kitchenware, didn't even look up. "Oh? And how exactly do they 'appreciate' me?"
The envoy cleared his throat. "Naturally, by offering protection, sharing resources, smoothing your path to development within Okhema…"
Phaethon finally lifted his gaze, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. "Smooth my path? Sure. Start with eight million Balance Coins as a 'greeting gift.' Let me see if the Council of Elder's 'sincerity' carries enough weight."
The envoy's face instantly turned cold. "Eight million?! Lord Phaethon! Please refrain from making such ill-timed jokes! The Council of Elder's friendship is priceless!"
"Joke?" Phaethon snorted derisively, put down the cloth, placed his hands on the counter, and leaned forward slightly, his eyes suddenly sharpening.
"You food! What kind of power is the Council of Elder? They're the rulers (clowns) of Okhema! How could they possibly fail to produce such a paltry 'sum' as a stepping stone? Hah! You are a clown! I saw through you that you are a imposter at a glance! Trying to get something for nothing? Get lost!"
The faux envoy, choked by Phaethon's sarcasm and the blunt "Get lost," turned pale with rage, pointing a trembling finger. "You… How dare you! Fine! Phaethon! Just you wait! The Council of Elder will make you pay!" He fled the restaurant in disarray after hurling his threat.
Phaethon watched his hurried retreat and coldly snorted. "If it weren't for the significance of the day, and my aversion to spilling blood, you'd be meeting Castorice in person by tonight."
However, he did "thoughtfully" ensure the man successfully met Hyacine later that evening.
…
Now, The Golden Eatery — Officially Open!
*"Ding-a-ling—!"*
With the clear chime of the wind bell, the heavy door was pushed open wide, and a surging crowd instantly poured in!
"Quick! Charge! Target — The Golden Eatery! We must secure a spot today! I need to use my tongue to judge whether my roommate's graduation project tastes better or mine does!" A student wearing a Lotophagism uniform waved his hands excitedly, squeezing forward through the throng.
"Make way! Make way! I came all the way from Janusopolis! I haven't been able to forget Chef Phaethon's skills since I last tasted them! I must eat here today!" A travel-worn regular customer boomed with a loud voice.
"Everyone! See this! This is the enterprise Lady Aglaea invested in! Our place of worship!" The leader of a group holding strange support placards shouted.
"What is our slogan?!" His "Comrade" behind him immediately responded with fanatical unison:
"We are Lady Aglaea's dogs!!!"
Phaethon, listening to the commotion from the kitchen, felt his lip twitch. "...Aglaea's investment effect is really… immediate."
The popularity of The Golden Eatery spread like wildfire, instantly sweeping through all of Okhema and The Grove!
Within just one week of opening, it had already become the most sought-after "culinary holy land" and "social hub" in both places.
From the first bell of The Golden Eatery in the morning until the closing bell rang in the evening, the place was mostly packed to the brim.
During this time, the students of The Grove displayed astonishing "business acumen," spontaneously organizing "line-standing services" and "group order delivery chats."
Phaethon's Infinity Gate became the busiest "gourmet conveyor belt," with a continuous stream of top-quality ingredients specially supplied by the Lotophagism school arriving from various experimental fields.
Then, under Phaethon's hands—as if kissed by the God of Cookery—they were transformed into dish after dish of captivating, dream-worthy delicacies.
…
Cyrene, entrusted by Phaethon with selecting service staff, sat at a temporary interview spot.
(Phaethon: *Cyrene, the ones who stay might not be the most skilled, but they must be kind-hearted. Oh, and also the prettiest.*)
Looking at the familiar figure before her, she widened her eyes in surprise. "Evelyn? You… you're here to… apply?"
Evelyn twisted her fingers somewhat sheepishly, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Mhm… Cyrene, I heard you were here, so I came. Besides, Okhema is unfamiliar to me… Working here, I can earn some money and be with familiar friends… It feels much more reassuring." She paused, then added, "Don't worry, I'll work very hard!"
"What kind of talk is that! I'm delighted to have you!" Cyrene's eyes were already curved into happy slits.
Just then, she noticed Elliott peeking out from behind Evelyn and grew wary. "Huh? Elliott? What are you doing here? Don't tell me you're also here to apply as a waiter?" She looked over Elliott's expensive attire with a "don't mess with me" expression.
Elliott cleared his throat, a hint of awkwardness flashing in his eyes. "Ahem, Cyrene, don't get the wrong idea. I heard Phaethon was here and came specifically to discuss a… well, a big business deal with him!"
Cyrene squinted suspiciously. "A big buisness deal? Really? You'd better not be up to no good, kid!" She pointed upstairs. "He's upstairs, just finished signing papers with the Lotophagism folks. Head on up."
Phaethon had just seen off the beaming Lotophagism representative, who had signed a massive one-year contract for top-tier ingredient supply, and was flexing his slightly sore wrist from all the wok-tossing.
The door pushed open, and Elliott burst in with great urgency.
"Phaethon! My good brother!" Elliott got straight to the point the moment he entered, his voice booming. "I'm here to bring you money! Big money!"
Phaethon raised an eyebrow, leaning back comfortably in his chair and taking a sip of tea. "Bring me money? Elliott, I know you too well. 'No one plays the lute without a reason'… Out with it, what scheme are you cooking up now?"
Elliott rubbed his hands together, his face covered in a businessman's eager smile as he sat in the chair just vacated by The Grove representative. "Look at you! We're like brothers! I'm here for a genuine collaboration!"
He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Phaethon, I've seen the explosive popularity of your Golden Eatery! But brother, you don't seriously plan to limit yourself to just this small patch of land in Okhema and The Grove, do you?"
He tapped his fingers lightly on the table, speeding up his speech. "Think about Janusopolis! The gourmands there still can't forget your skills!"