The bustling restaurant overflowed with the lively midday lunch crowd, transforming the shadowed corner booth into an isolated, whisper-quiet sanctuary.
Waiters balancing towering bamboo steamer trays hurried between crowded tables, shouting spicy noodle orders above the ambient clatter of porcelain bowls.
Curious patrons glancing toward the secluded alcove merely observed an ordinary, quiet young man eating noodles opposite an elegant, cloaked woman.
Rich, aromatic steam from bowls of braised pork, star anise, and five-spice beef broth drifted lazily toward the ceiling rafters, veiling the private booth in fragrant mist.
The busy tavern keeper considered them remarkably polite travelers with generous coin, which represented the closest approximation to truth his mortal mind could ever achieve.
The two undercover operatives sitting in his corner booth served the Underworld King, casually discussing calculated assassination over cups of steaming jasmine tea.
