After ordering several dishes from the restaurant's nu, Lein and Efan chose a seat on the second floor, picking a table by the window that offered a clear view of Auraborne's main street. The golden rays of the setting sun stread through the large glass panes, lighting up their table now filled with plates and bowls of various mouthwatering dishes.
Amid the aroma of roasted ats, rare spices, and steaming broth, Efan looked visibly thrilled. His gaze was fixed on a bowl of dark-colored noodles that looked rather eccentric.
"Whoa, these noodles look like stars in the middle of a black void," Efan exclaid in awe. He pulled the bowl closer with a curious expression, his eyes sparkling as he looked at the bright white noodles contrasting against the pitch-black soup, like a galaxy floating in the vast emptiness of space.
Lein turned and glanced at the bowl. "If I'm not mistaken, that's called Nebula Noodles. Its appearance is designed that way—ant to resemble a swirling star cluster in the darkness," he said with a slow nod, recalling the nu description he had read earlier. "But don't forget, it costs more than two cosmos silver coins," he added while eyeing the tall drink that stood elegantly beside his plate.
The glass was tall and clear, filled with small, colorful fruits, but what stood out the most was a pink blossom petal floating on the surface. The petal glowed faintly, with sparkles that danced like tiny stars.
"Starfruit Sorbet with Starblossom," Lein murmured softly, trying to rember the full na from the nu.
Across the table, Efan could hardly contain himself. He straightened in his seat, grabbed his chopsticks, and looked at Lein with barely contained excitent. "Brother Lein, let's eat!" he declared before scooping up a mouthful of the starlit noodles and stuffing it into his mouth without hesitation.
"Mmm…"
Efan closed his eyes after the first bite. A look of sheer satisfaction washed over his face. He chewed slowly, as if trying not to miss a single mont of the flavor. Now and then, a soft sound of delight escaped his lips, enough to tempt Lein to have a taste.
Lein raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised. "How does it taste?" he asked, genuinely curious. It wasn't like Efan to react this strongly just over food.
Efan calmly finished his first bite and opened his eyes. He looked at Lein seriously, as though he were about to share an important secret.
"It's amazing, Brother Lein," he said firmly. "The noodles are incredibly soft… the mont they touch your tongue, they lt like warm butter. But there's also this strange salty flavor—not regular salt—like a touch of star-ocean." He paused, searching for the right words. "It tastes like a blend of old mories and new adventures."
Without missing a beat, he scooped up another mouthful with enthusiasm. "This is just too good. I have to rember the na of this dish. I'll definitely order it again for Sister Laras when we co back to this city!"
Lein could only shake his head with a small smile. He watched Efan, now completely imrsed in his al, brimming with joy. There was a ti when Efan could only say sothing tasted 'good' or 'delicious'—without truly understanding what those words ant. But now, his descriptions were more vivid, more detailed. At so point, Efan had clearly learned to savor life… one bite at a ti.
Lein then lifted his tall glass of Starfruit Sorbet. He took a slow sip, letting the coldness spread through his mouth. The tiny fruits followed, brushing his tongue with a freshness that felt like they had just been picked that very morning. He chewed slowly, enjoying their juicy, crisp texture.
Then, the Starblossom petal entered his mouth. Lein held his breath for a second, his brows furrowing slightly as he bit into it. "Softer than I expected," he murmured. The texture was like satin dissolving on the tongue, and the taste—subtly savory, not sweet, not salty—just neutral and airy, like morning mist touching skin without leaving a trace.
Without saying anything further, Lein sipped the rest of his drink. Each gulp brought a sense of serenity, as though his body was sinking into a starry sensation lting between layers of exotic fruits.
As they were still enjoying their al, a waiter appeared beside their table. His uniform was crisp, his steps confident. He stopped politely and spoke in a soft yet clear tone, "Excuse , Sir. There is a guest under the na of Master Veyron who wishes to et with you."
Lein paused, his hand halfway to another piece of fruit. He turned to the waiter calmly and responded without haste. "Let him co," he said, his tone composed, though a hint of intrigue colored the end of his words.
The waiter gave a short bow before turning and walking away.
"Haha! How did he even know we were here, Brother Lein?" Efan asked with a chuckle. His eyes were filled with curiosity, though his voice carried more amusent than concern.
Lein simply shrugged. "No idea. But one thing's for sure—he's soone with a lot of influence in this city," he replied, then returned to his al as if an important guest showing up was just another part of his lunch plans.
A few minutes later, two figures appeared on the staircase to the second floor. Leading the way was a middle-aged man in a long black robe with white trim down the front—Veyron. His steps were steady yet commanding, and his face was lit with a warm, genuine smile. Following behind was a young man with silver hair. His handso face was cold, and his sharp eyes carried the weight of suspicion.
"Master Lein, apologies for interrupting your al," Veyron said politely, his smile unwavering as he greeted them.
The silver-haired young man frowned slightly, surprised by Veyron's deanor. He clearly hadn't expected soone as powerful and influential as Veyron to be so warm toward two individuals who, in his eyes, were rely a Tier-1 king and a Grandmaster. The reaction didn't match anything he'd ever learned about Veyron.
Lein and Efan quickly rose from their seats. With respectful manners, they extended their hands to greet Veyron. Though the man showed no trace of arrogance and spoke kindly, they both knew very well who stood before them—a ruler whose strength rivaled that of a mid-tier king. Courtesy wasn't an option; it was a necessity.
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