The morning air in Elandra was unusually crisp, a cool breeze slipping through the window shutters and gently ruffling the curtains. Inigo stood barefoot in the kitchen, tying the apron around his waist as the sll of cooking oil began to fill the room. Today’s breakfast had a mission behind it—one that went beyond full stomachs.
He glanced at the clock. Just past eight. Early enough that the city was only beginning to stir.
Behind him, Lyra shuffled into the room, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She wore one of his oversized tunics and a pair of soft pants that reached her ankles. Her hair was a tousled ss, but her eyes lit up the mont she spotted what was happening on the stove.
"Another silog morning?" she asked, voice still raspy with sleep.
"Damn right," Inigo said with a smirk. "Thought I’d make longsilog again. Can’t go wrong with that one."
She slipped into a chair and rested her chin on her palm, smiling. "I’m starting to associate the sll of garlic rice with safety. You know that?"
"That ans I’m doing sothing right." He tossed the chopped garlic into the heated pan. The satisfying sizzle kicked off the familiar aroma that made Lyra visibly perk up. "And today’s breakfast cos with a conversation."
"Oh?" she asked, eyes narrowing playfully. "What kind of conversation? Romantic or mission-related?"
He laughed, grabbing the leftover rice from the pot and adding it into the pan. "Business-related, actually."
"That’s new."
"Not really." He turned and gave her a pointed look. "Rember Mcronald’s?"
Lyra blinked, then slowly leaned back in her seat. "Mcronald’s... You an the burger stand we opened?"
"Exactly."
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "That was months ago. We had to shut it down because of all the missions."
"Yeah, but people loved it. Rember the line of custors? Knights, students, even nobles? That place was getting traction before everything went sideways."
Lyra tilted her head, her smile returning. "You’re thinking of reopening?"
"Not just reopening," Inigo said as he plated the longsilog—golden garlic fried rice, sweet sausages glistening, and a perfectly fried sunny-side-up egg. He set the plate down in front of her. "I’m thinking of making it permanent. This city’s missing sothing, and I’ve got the solution."
Lyra took a bite, her eyes practically rolling back in delight. "You know, you really shouldn’t be allowed to cook like this and casually talk about empire-building at the sa ti."
He chuckled. "I’m serious. The Guild’s quiet. There are fewer high-level contracts lately. We’ve got so breathing room. I was thinking—it might be ti to invest in a proper kitchen. Expand Mcronald’s into an actual place, not just a small resto."
"You an... like a building?"
"Exactly. We find a spot near the plaza. High foot traffic. We get a basic structure, hire two or three staff to handle the counter and the kitchen when I’m not around. I’ll teach them the recipes. Burgers and fries, just like last ti—but this ti with proper seats, tables, and maybe even a painted sign."
Lyra chewed thoughtfully. "You’re serious about this."
"I am."
She set her fork down and looked at him directly. "Why now?"
Inigo leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Because this world needs more than adventurers and danger. It needs good food. It needs places where people can sit down, eat, laugh... and rember they’re human. If I can bring even a sliver of my world’s comfort here, then maybe... I’m doing sothing that matters."
Lyra watched him for a long second, then smiled softly. "That’s the most sentintal reason I’ve ever heard for selling burgers."
He gave a mock bow. "Thank you."
"I’m in," she said with a nod. "But only if I get to be the official taste tester."
"Deal," Inigo grinned. "Also, you’re managent now."
"Oh gods, that’s terrifying."
They finished their breakfast in good spirits, the sound of cutlery and laughter filling the cozy kitchen. After cleaning up, Inigo pulled out an old leather-bound notebook from the shelf. The cover was worn, and the pages were filled with rough sketches of buildings, ideas for nu items, and scribbled notes on pricing.
"This is what I’ve been working on," he said, flipping the book open. "I already have a few designs for a small diner layout. Sothing modular, nothing too extravagant. Tables for eight groups, a counter, and a back kitchen."
Lyra looked over the pages, impressed. "You really mapped it out."
"I do this when I can’t sleep."
She pointed at one of the pages. "What’s this? Crispy Chicken Sandwich?"
He gave a sheepish smile. "Work in progress."
"I want that one."
He laughed again. "Noted."
By noon, they headed into the city. The streets were busy now, with vendors setting up for the afternoon rush. Inigo led the way toward the plaza, where the original Mcronald’s stall had once stood.
The spot was currently empty. Just a stone-paved square with a few benches nearby and a steady stream of foot traffic passing through.
"This is the place," he said. "Perfect visibility. Near the guild, near the student district. If we rebuild here, we’ll catch every type of custor."
Lyra folded her arms and studied the space. "So what’s the plan?"
"I’ll visit the local construction guild tomorrow. Commission a small building. Use the funds I saved from our past contracts. Then we’ll need permits from the city council—but with the Guild’s backing, that should be easy. I’m betting we could be open in two weeks."
"Two weeks?"
"Okay, three if we take our ti."
Lyra stepped closer, bumping his shoulder. "Then I guess I better start working on my custor service smile."
"I’m already terrified for the custors."
"I’ll be charming," she said, grinning wickedly.
"More like intimidating."
"That works too."
They stood there for a while, watching people pass by—so adventurers, others ordinary townsfolk, students from the academy, even a few nobles with their guards.
"This city’s alive," Inigo murmured. "It deserves more than what it has."
Lyra looked at him sideways. "You’re trying to change the world, one burger at a ti."
He smiled. "Exactly."
Back at the house, Inigo spent the rest of the afternoon drafting a formal plan for the reopening. Lyra helped brainstorm potential nas for combo als and suggested uniforms for the staff—sothing red and black, sleek but not too flashy. She even suggested adding silog to the breakfast nu for adventurers passing through in the morning.
By evening, their table was covered in notes, sketches, and parchnt.
"This is really happening," Lyra said.
"It is."
They stood over the window, watching the sun dip behind the towers of Elandra.
Tomorrow, the work would begin.
But tonight—they allowed themselves to dream.
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