The Grand Hall of the Ohara-Kurosawa estate, usually echoing with formal greetings or idol rehearsals, was now filled with an aroma that was distinctly "home" for Agung—the savory, comforting scent of ginger, turmeric, and slow-simmered chicken broth.
Agung moved through the high-end industrial kitchen with a grace that surpassed his sanitary worker days. While his *Infinite Stamina* had kept him awake through the night-watch over sixteen children, his *Creation Magic* was now focused entirely on the stovetop. He wasn't just manifesting food; he was pouring his intent into every bowl.
| Dish Component | Preparation Detail | Target Audience |
| The Base | Silky, thick rice porridge simmered in a rich ginger-chicken broth. | Everyone (38 total servings) |
| The Toppings | Shredded chicken, crispy fried shallots, *cakwe* (fried dough), and celery. | Adults & Older Children |
| The "Soft" Version | Finely minced chicken and broth-soaked rice. | The 3-year-olds |
| The Condiments | *Kecap manis*, salty soy, and a side of fiery *sambal*. | The 21 Mothers (to wake them up) |
As the clock struck 6:00 AM, the first of the twenty-one mothers began to trickle back into the estate. They were dressed in fresh clothes from their night out, prepared to see a scene of domestic destruction. Instead, they found the Grand Hall perfectly silent, bathed in the soft morning light.
Maki and Dia led the group, their eyes widening as they stepped into the dining area.
The sixteen children were already seated—some still rubbing sleep from their eyes—at a massive, low table. Aoi was dutifully handing out spoons, while Natsu and Schwartz were surprisingly quiet, mesmerized by the steam rising from their bowls.
Agung emerged from the kitchen carrying two massive trays, his shirt sleeves rolled up, a smudge of flour on his cheek, and a calm, tired smile on his face.
"Welcome back," Agung said, his voice low so as not to startle the younger ones. "You're just in time. The *Bubur Ayam* is at the perfect temperature."
Maki stood frozen, her "executioner" resolve melting faster than a pat of butter in hot porridge. She looked at the children—clean, fed, and peacefully eating—and then at the man who had spent the night proving he was more than just a source of mana or a "Deadbeat" father.
"You actually did it," Maki murmured, her voice losing its edge. She took a seat, the scent of the Indonesian staple triggering a sense of warmth she hadn't expected. "And you didn't even use the magic to put them in a trance, did you?"
"I used it for the bubbles and the lullabies," Agung admitted, setting a bowl in front of her with a wink. "But the behavior? That was all them. They're good kids, Maki. They just needed to know who was in charge of the kitchen."
Mari sat down next to Dia, looking at the vibrant toppings on her porridge. "Ufufu! A King who can handle sixteen children and still find time to make a proper Indonesian breakfast? I think the '24-hour rotation' might need to include a 'Chef's Shift' every morning."