At 11:30 PM, the Tavern lights still glowed warmly beneath the dark sky, even as the clock crept closer to closing time. The few remaining guests chatted in hushed tones, but one table held a weight heavier than conversation.
Seated across from each other, Mana Nakiri and her daughter Erina lingered in a delicate silence. Though the night had softened some of the frost between them, the air still carried unspoken pain.
Mana's hands trembled slightly as she wrapped them around a warm cup of tea. Her voice, when it finally emerged, was soft and nostalgic.
"I've met chefs from every corner of the world," she said. "From Michelin-starred titans to desert-dwelling mystics. Yet… none of them ever cooked a dish that could conquer the God Tongue."
Erina sat, still and wide-eyed. Her fingers curled around her own cup, but her tea had long gone cold. In truth, part of her always wondered about her mother's past. And now, seeing Mana speak with quiet vulnerability, she listened—intently.
Mana recounted the milestones of her wandering life: the lonely nights spent as a culinary judge, her role as a special executive officer of the WGO, and the distant cities where no dish could reach the center of her heart.
And all the while, Erina listened. Not with judgment, but with a quiet yearning to understand.
Across the room, Hisako watched the exchange with a heart full of emotion. She stole a glance out the window, where the moon hovered like a silent witness. Then she gently tugged at Erina's sleeve.
"Lady Erina, it's getting late… We should head back."
Erina blinked, then nodded reluctantly. "Mother… let's stop here for tonight."
She paused, then added with a surprising softness, "Seeing you again brought back painful memories. But knowing your eating disorder is cured… I'm genuinely happy for you."
Mana's eyes welled up. "Erina, I… I…"
"If it's too hard to say, you don't have to," Erina said, her tone gentle but firm. "I understand."
She then turned toward Zane, hesitated for a moment, and walked up to the counter. Her cheeks were lightly flushed.
"Zane… do you remember our agreement?"
"I do," Zane replied with a smile that reached his eyes. "Once training camp ends, you're free to work here part-time."
He looked at her deeply. "Come by tomorrow. 7 PM."
"I… I will," Erina said, her voice almost a whisper. Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the door, her back straight and composed.
Hisako quickly bowed, paid the bill, and followed.
…
Mana stood quietly, watching her daughter disappear into the night. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips.
"She didn't forgive me… not completely," she murmured. "But maybe… she's willing to try."
Zane glanced at her but said nothing. Sometimes, the best comfort is silence.
"Zane," Mana said, her voice trembling slightly, "thank you. For everything."
She turned to face him fully.
"Since the day I met you, I've felt like the goddess of fortune finally noticed me. You healed a wound I thought would follow me to the grave. You even gave up the golden ratio shumai tonight, just to help me reconnect with my daughter."
"I feel like I owe you more than I can repay in this life."
Zane smiled, not out of pride, but warmth. "The Tavern exists to bring peace to those who enter. You don't owe me anything, Mana."
Her lips parted as if to reply, but the words caught in her throat. Her eyes shimmered. "If only… I had met you sooner."
…
Suddenly, the Tavern door swung open.
"Mom! Hurry up! I'm starving!"
Alice strolled in, followed closely by her mother, Leonora Nakiri. The moment Leonora laid eyes on Mana, she froze.
"Mana?" she gasped, wide-eyed. "Is that really you?"
"It's been a long time," Mana said with a small smile. "You haven't changed, Leonora. If anything, you've become more radiant."
"Aunt…?" Alice stared, confused at first—until the memories rushed back. She had been just a child when Mana disappeared. But that face… it hadn't changed.
"Alice," Mana said with a soft laugh. "You've grown so much, I almost didn't recognize you."
…
Fate works in strange ways. Who could have predicted that in one night, Mana would reunite with her daughter, sister-in-law, and niece?
"I have so many questions," Leonora said, her voice brimming with emotion. "You disappeared… the whole family was thrown into chaos."
"It's a long story," Mana replied, looking down. "One I'll share another time."
Zane, always the considerate host, cleared his throat. "Well, you two arrived at a strange hour. The kitchen's nearly closed."
He set a bottle of chilled plum wine on the counter with a quiet clink.
"All that's left is some rice and eggs. How about a quick plate of fried rice?"
Leonora nodded with a chuckle. "Sounds perfect."
Zane turned to Alice. "And you?"
"If Mom's okay with it, I'm in!"
"Great. Give me a few minutes."
He vanished into the kitchen like a magician entering his stage.
…
Every dish carries a story.
Fried rice—so simple, so common—was no exception. From humble origins in the Sui Dynasty, where it was called "Golden Fragments Rice," to its current status as a global comfort food, the dish had never lost its warmth.
Yet in the hands of a true master, even simplicity could taste like alchemy.
Zane worked swiftly.
He separated golden egg yolks from the whites, reserving a third to coat the rice. He mixed the yolks gently with room-temperature rice, a secret step to ensure even coloring.
The wok was preheated until it smoked like a dragon's breath.
He added oil, then the rice, stirring rapidly. The grains danced as the heat coaxed out their fragrance.
The remaining eggs were added in two swift batches—one to bind, one to enrich.
Finally came the green onions, salt, black pepper.
Each movement was practiced yet artful.
…
"It's just fried rice," Leonora said as the plate was placed in front of her.
But when she looked at the dish… her breath caught.
Each grain was golden, fluffy yet distinct. Steam rose in ribbons, carrying the tantalizing aroma of eggs and scallions. The shine on the rice glistened like tiny jewels.
Alice was the first to break.
She grabbed a spoonful, blew on it, then popped it into her mouth.
A moment passed.
Then her eyes widened in wonder.
"It's so good… I can't stop eating…!"
Each bite was a perfect balance of chewiness and fragrance. The egg flavor burst forward first, followed by the sweet aroma of onions and the lingering warmth of pepper.
…
Leonora tried hers and went still.
The taste struck her like a wave—simple, comforting, but infinitely deep.
"This fried rice…" she murmured, "It tastes like my childhood. Like the kind of food you eat when the world finally feels safe again."
She ate slowly, reverently.
"The grains are so light, not soggy or stiff… you used low-moisture rice, didn't you?"
Zane nodded from the kitchen. "Precisely. Low water content keeps the grains separate during stir-frying. Makes all the difference."
Alice scarfed down another bite. "I don't care what rice you used—this is the best thing I've eaten all week!"
The laughter that followed was light and genuine.
For a moment, it felt like all the old pain had been replaced by something warmer. Something like… home.
…
Fried rice.
The simplest dish in the world, yet so hard to perfect.
And on this night, in a small Tavern that never truly closed—perfection was served.