Even If I’m Reborn as a Cute Dragon Girl, I Will Still Make a Harem Book 6: Chapter 93: A Cup of Tea

Book 6: Chapter 93: A Cup of Tea

Xedrios.

In a certain town, in a certain county, in a certain country, within a shabby little eatery…

The plump owner leaned against the counter, surveying the empty dining room, and let out a long, weary sigh.

Business had been rough lately.

Lunch hour was approaching, yet not a single custor had walked through the door. At this rate, their family-run restaurant might not survive much longer.

She glanced at the simple nu pasted on the wall, wondering if she ought to follow the lead of the fancy place across the street and start introducing so trendy new dishes.

But her culinary skills, passed down from her late father, were limited to a modest handful of recipes. What new wonders could she possibly whip up?

She missed her father dearly. That warm, chatty man had always kept the shop lively. Back then, the place never felt this lonely.

Lost in her thoughts, the woman began to nod off.

Just as her vision blurred, she caught a glimpse of a petite figure stepping through the doorway under the midday sunlight.

What a sight.

Her golden hair shimred in the breeze like strands of silk. Her skin was so fair, it reminded the owner of the delicate porcelain Old Wang next door always bragged about. The black dress trimd with golden lace on her looked so expensive that it could probably buy out this entire eatery.

What a beautiful dream. If a little princess like that ever really ca to eat here, her father would surely smile in his grave.

The owner was lost in her own thoughts until the girl turned and looked at her.

A confused expression appeared on her flawless, doll-like face.

“Hello… is this where I place my order?”

*Place order?*

*What does she an by that?*

The owner was jolted from her daze. She shot upright as if she had been doused in cold water. Her plump cheeks jiggled with the sudden motion, and her usually narrow eyes flew wide open.

She stared at the girl, who did not vanish with her dreams, in surprise.

“You… you want to order?”

“Yes,” the girl replied, tilting her head slightly. “Don’t people co to eateries to eat? Or has that changed while I was away?”

Her brow furrowed in earnest as she surveyed the shop’s interior. “Looks like you can only just eat here. Yup, nothing has changed since my ti.”

“Of course you can order!”

Though baffled by how such a refined young lady had found her way into this humble place, the owner rembered her late father’s words: never turn away a custor.

She hurried out of the counter with her warst smile and led the girl to a table. In her fluster, she grabbed her brand-new apron instead of a cleaning rag and began wiping the table and chairs repeatedly.

Only after ensuring that not a single speck of grease that could sully the young lady’s fine dress remained, she finally exhaled in relief and gestured for the girl to take a seat.

“Co, co, co. Sit down, sit down. What can I get for a lovely young miss like you today?”

“I…”

Though it was a simple question, the girl looked completely lost.

She reminded the owner of a student staring blankly at an exam, a child who had lost her favorite toy, or a traveler suddenly unsure of the way ho.

She glanced left and right, as if searching for a thought or sothing from her mories, but eventually gave up. She bit her lip and turned to the owner, who waited patiently with a kind smile.

“What do you recomnd?”

“What…?”

The owner froze before panic hit.

If it were an ordinary custor asking that question, she might have rattled off the usual bestsellers. But this girl was anything but ordinary.

She was clearly of noble blood, untouched by the mundane world.

If soone like her entered one of the city’s top restaurants, the head chef would imdiately snap to attention. He’d shove aside his apprentices, take over the kitchen himself, and handle everything personally, from chopping ingredients to plating, demonstrating his decades of mastery.

And if, during the al, the girl so much as furrowed her brow, the head chef peering from behind the kitchen door would imdiately start scouring his mory for mistakes he might have made and brace himself to be summoned for a scolding.

Yet here she was, asking her for a recomndation.

This was no different from walking into a restaurant and arrogantly telling the head chef, “Serve your best dish.”

It was a challenge!

A challenge!

The owner’s mind flashed back to sothing her late father used to say: “Rember, when soone tells a chef to serve their best dish, they’re issuing a challenge!”

She could still picture his grizzled old face, proudly waving a spatula like a general going into battle, shouting, “Faced with such a challenge, no chef can retreat! None!”

“Beef noodles!” The owner straightened up and declared loudly, “That’s my best dish!”

The girl was stunned by her reaction, but she quickly recovered and nodded. “Then I’ll have that.”

“Wait right there.”

With that, the owner pulled off her brand-new apron and wore the old, grease-stained one her late father had passed down to her. She held her chin high and marched into the kitchen, like a general dressed in her battle-worn cape.

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt this fired up.”

A mischievous smile tugged at her lips. She crouched down and… began burning coals.

*Damn, business has been so slow that I actually forgot to light the stove.*

◆◇◆◇◆

Several minutes later, the owner returned with a cup of tea, her face smudged with soot.

“My apologies, young miss. It may take a little while longer. Would you care for so tea while you wait?”

The girl stared at the cup in a daze.

The tea was obviously brewed from cheap, low-grade leaves—the kind sold in bulk for ten copper coins a bag.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Are the leaves not to your liking?”

The owner instantly regretted asking.

How could a noble lady like her, who was used to fine tea, possibly stomach this bitter swill?

“I… I’m sorry. That was rude of . I’ll fetch sothing better right away. I think my father still left behind so of that slightly higher—”

“It’s fine.”

The girl grabbed the hand that was about to take the cup away.

“I’ll drink this one.”

“…Oh.”

The owner froze in place, nodding repeatedly like a rooster before finally rembering to set the cup down when the heat from the cup began to burn her hand.

Is this… so new trend among nobles to eat in small eateries and drink low-grade tea?

“I don’t get it. Country folk like will never understand,” muttering to herself, the owner returned to the kitchen.

The girl stared at the tiny tea stems floating in the cup.

“So this… is what tea leaves look like. I’d completely forgotten,” she murmured in a daze.