CHAPTER 52: THE AROMA BEFORE THE STORM

Three days had passed. The restaurant was supposed to be open by now—bustling, packed, clattering with spoons and conversation—but reality had other plans.

The launch was delayed.

Some minor logistical issues had cropped up: a last-minute shipment of spices had gone missing, two kitchen apprentices burned the initial test batches of chilli chicken beyond salvation, and one of the ventilation enchantments failed in spectacular fashion, nearly smoking out the entire eastern wing.

Nothing catastrophic—but enough to throw the original schedule out of sync. The planned three-day grand opening was postponed, now pushed back two more days.

But make no mistake—they used every minute of the delay like pros.

Promotion had already begun. Velvet-toned flyers drifted around the capital of Caerywn, carried on enchanted breezes or handed out by elegant delivery girls in sleek uniforms. They didn’t shout for attention.

They whispered. Gold-stamped lettering shimmered across deep red parchment:

"Savor the Flame. Chill the Heat. The Grand Opening of House Crydias’ First Culinary Venture Begins in Two Days."

No name? Not quite. You had to look closely—very closely. At the bottom, hidden in tasteful silver print, the restaurant’s name had been subtly branded:

The Emberdrop Pavilion

Simple. Elegant. Unforgettable.

It was a name that started to circulate among merchants, nobles, and curious adventurers alike. The Emberdrop Pavilion. It already sounded like a place you wanted to brag about dining at.

And everyone knew whose name was behind it.

The Crydias family, once thought to be circling the drain, was now back—loudly, unapologetically. Their merchant fleet had stabilized. Their estate, which had been collecting dust and debt, was suddenly vibrant with activity.

Now, with this high-end restaurant making waves before even opening, people started whispering about the force behind their resurgence.

A mysterious backer. Why they they chose the Crydias was beyond people. They didn’t understand what might be the motives of this mysterious backer of Crydias.

Some say they are planning something big and dangerous. Some the they the Crydias patriarch paid a hefty sum for this. But people didn’t care much about the persons themselves but the gossip. They liked to gossip and the now Crydias family was a hot topic for that.

And another thing the people Caerywn is interested about is the new restaurant which will be opened by the Crydias family.

Inside the Emberdrop Pavilion, the chefs were putting in brutal hours. They’d nearly mastered everything in the revised menu.

Chilli chicken had turned out to be the most troublesome. The concept was alien to them—crispy chicken pieces tossed in a fiery red glaze of garlic, ginger, vinegar, soy sauce, and dried fire-peppers—but once they got it right? It was lethal. The heat hit in waves, balanced by the subtle sweetness and that addictive crunch.

The current version left your mouth tingling and your soul demanding seconds. Even the most conservative testers—like the old money nobles who considered spice an insult—were asking for take-home packs.

Fried rice had become an art form. Every component had to be prepped just right—eggs soft-scrambled, rice perfectly cooled, vegetables diced with maddening precision.

A delicate balance of wok-hei, soy, and sesame oil made each portion feel alive.

Side dishes included lotus root crisps, scallion pancakes, marinated cucumber with vinegar and sugar, and soft tofu dressed in chili oil. Each small plate was crafted with care, not filler.

The chefs worked under near-military precision, thanks in part to Master Electric, a silent, watchful figure who adjusted mana runes on stoves, optimized heat flows, and infused ingredients with fine-tuned elemental energy. He never spoke unless absolutely necessary—but when he did, it was the kind of advice that could elevate a meal to art.

Behind the scenes, barrels of soya sauce brewed slowly, dark and pungent. It was reaching a critical aging point, and the head chef had begun bottling test batches for premium customers.

The buzz was real now.

And hanging over it all like a final countdown, was another event—the [Grade-5] Mana Crystal Auction, scheduled for the end of the month. Just fifteen days away.

Everyone who mattered in Velmora was preparing for it. Whispers suggested that the same mysterious force behind the Crydias family was planning something big.

The timing wasn’t coincidence.

One event to lure the crowd. The other to make a statement.

In two days, The Emberdrop Pavilion would open its doors.

And after that? The capital might never be the same.

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

Two days late, but nobody cared anymore.

It was morning, just past ten, and already the street was packed. People squeezed together shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes craning forward toward the clean, dark-wood storefront at the center of the commoner district. The hanging sign swayed lightly above the door, simple but elegant:

The Emberdrop Pavilion

Crydias Family Ownership – Open to All

No nobles. No attendants with fake smiles. No pomp or fanfare. Just food.

People muttered as they waited, the way people do when the line starts getting too long and stomachs start growling.

"They said the chicken’s spicy, right?"

"My neighbor said her cousin’s friend got a sample yesterday. Nearly cried from how good it was."

"Is it true the rice isn’t boiled but fried? Like... with eggs and onions?"

"Heard they make their own sauce. What was it? So-ya sauce? Foreign thing."

"It better be worth my half day’s pay."

Most had no idea who the Crydias family even were. Some remembered hearing the name when the family was nearly bankrupt a few years ago. And now?

Back like nothing ever happened—opening a restaurant in the middle of the busiest, loudest part of the commoner block.

It didn’t make sense. But honestly, nobody cared. Not today.

***

The Doors Open

At exactly eleven, the doors swung open with a faint creak, and the scent hit like a hammer.

Savory. Rich. Spiced. Hot oil. Fried garlic.

It was as if the entire crowd inhaled at once. A ripple passed through the line.

"That smell... oh gods."

"I’m eating here every damn day if I have to live on porridge the rest of the week."

"That’s not normal food. That’s—what even is that?"

The first ten people shuffled inside cautiously. Then the next wave. By twenty minutes in, the restaurant was full. More than full. People stood in corners.

Some ate on benches outside using takeaway trays. The staff inside were young, fast, quiet. No unnecessary chatter. No fake smiles.

Just trays of steaming food flying out from the kitchen to the tables.

***

The Food

Chilli Chicken Set – 4 silver crowns

Fried Rice Set – 2 silver crowns

Vegetarian Set – 1.5 silver crowns

Side dishes – 1 silver crown

Drinks – 3 copper each

No overcomplicated menu. No extra charges. Pay first, eat fast.

And once people took the first bite, the street went silent.

"...this is chicken?"

"Holy shit. The outside’s crispy but the inside—look at this, look how soft it is."

"Wait, wait, what’s this spice? My lips are burning—gods, it’s amazing."

"Is this rice? It’s rice but... fried?"

"No way they’re selling this for two silvers. This is rich-folk food."

Some were sweating. Others were sniffing from the heat of the chilli, but no one stopped eating. Forks clinked. Sauce dripped. People leaned in across tables, eyes wide.

"This sauce is illegal. It has to be."

"I swear, I’d marry the chef right now if he asked."

"Someone go check if they’ve got more rice—I need three more orders."

"You think the nobles know about this yet?"

***

Outside the Pavilion

By mid-afternoon, the line had doubled. People didn’t leave after eating—they went home and brought friends.

Entire families returned. Workers came during break. A couple of guild adventurers even showed up, armor still dusty, tossing silver like it was nothing.

"Heard about the mystery backer?"

Someone murmured in line.

"Yeah, yeah. Some say it’s a mage. Others think it’s an old investor."

"Or an underground syndicate. Who knows?"

"Who cares? I just want another plate of that chilli chicken."

Nobody had time to speculate. They were too busy waiting for their turn. Word spread across Caerywn like wildfire. No messenger hawks, no flyers—just gossip. The purest kind.

"Emberdrop Pavilion. You heard of it yet?"

"Crydias is behind it, right?"

"Yeah. Wasn’t that family nearly done for?"

"Exactly. That’s why people are saying they’ve got someone backing them now. Someone big."

"You think it’s the Crown?"

"Nah. But whoever it is, they know food. That’s all I need."

***

By Sunset

The restaurant closed early, around six. Sold out.

The last tray left the kitchen to roaring applause from those still inside. The staff apologized politely to those still waiting outside and handed out vouchers for the next day. Some were disappointed, sure.

But most?

Hooked.

The Emberdrop Pavilion had done what no noble parade, no mage guild announcement, and no merchant caravan could in years:

It brought the people together over a table.

***

In the Background

The whispers of the mysterious backer faded into the backdrop of sizzling pans and laughter.

No one knew who they were. Not even whether they were a person or an organization. The rumors were juicy, but the food was juicier.

And that, for now, was enough.

-To Be Continued