「The Modest Restaurant」
The main theme of this little restaurant is warmth and friendliness.
The owner isn't just known for being gentle with the people who walk through the door—he genuinely wants every guest to leave with more than just a full stomach.
"Hmm… this is not good enough. Are you sure you're cooking ramen and not dirt soup?" Yjor wrinkled her nose.
"At least try it before making comments!" 「Fuwawa」
"Why don't you taste it first before giving it to me?" (Yjor)
"That's… it… tell… her…" Mococo staggered, clutching her chest. "Gahhh… at least… my sacrifice… wasn't in vain…" With a final gasp, she collapsed on the floor, tongue out—forever remembered (in her own mind) as the first victim of Fuwawa's cooking.
To him, the design of this place is more than decoration for a dining place—it's a quiet reminder of how the world should feel: simple, welcoming, and just a little kinder than the noise outside.
It may not be free from life's troubles, but it's still a little sanctuary—a place where you can sit down, eat well, and let the weight on your shoulders ease just a bit. What he's building here isn't only a restaurant.
Like someone who once lost the way back to his own...
Piece by piece, he's shaping a home.
Chairs soft enough for kids yet sturdy enough for the elderly, an aroma that lingers just right—not too strong, not too faint—so even the smell of the food can gently reach everyone, and a few small trees scattered around to add a touch of charm.
And those dragons, too—they still need a place they can call home.
That's how the Old Man once described the restaurant to Fuwawa and Mococo. Everything, he said, was made to help them remember what their world was supposed to be like.
Take the Lioness and the Alisce, for example—they often came here for that very reason.
"Hey Fuwawa, are you really sure about this cooking training?" Mococo asked, leaning on the counter.
"Of course! As the big sister here, I need to make good food for everyone at home! I am the big sister after all, fuwahahaha!" Fuwawa puffed her chest proudly.
"Yjoor~ did you hear that? She just crowned herself the big sister! Go on, get her!" Mococo grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'll sit back and enjoy the chaos from here, fufufu!"
"Moco-chan?! I'm your real big sis, you know?!" 「Fuwawa」
The twins didn't really understand what he meant—after all, they'd been caught and locked away in prison for so long. The word home still didn't carry its full weight for them.
But at the very least, they knew they liked this place far more than the cold, cramped cells they used to endure. Here, everything felt bright, warm, and alive.
They loved being able to stay here, to run around and play without a single worry.
And if the Old Man wasn't around to keep them company, there was always Yjor—always ready to spar, tease, or bicker with them just enough to keep things lively.
Strangely enough, over time, Fuwawa, Mococo, and Yjor had grown into something like friends… maybe even sisters. They fought, they bullied each other, they made up, and then leaned on one another again, as if the cycle itself was proof of their closeness.
And while they didn't hate her, in the end they still got bored of her too.
Such is their nature.
"What're you staring at?!" Mococo snapped.
"Huh?" Yjor blinked.
"Ah, Yjor-chan… it seems Mococo is in a foul mood," Fuwawa said cheerfully. "She forgot where she put her favorite ice cream last night, and when she checked the fridge this morning—it was gone."
"Ohhh… yeah, better make sure to label it next time," Yjor said with a sly grin. But in that brief moment, Mococo caught a faint sweet scent clinging to her. "Now then, I'm heading back to the storage—"
"…So… it was YOU!" Mococo roared, pointing dramatically.
...
....
.....
Inside the restaurant, it was just the three of them again.
The Old Man still hadn't come home, even after being gone for several days on his own.
"Hey, why isn't Grandpa back yet?" Mococo asked, frowning as she kicked her legs under the table.
Over at the cashier's desk, it was just her and Yjor, each busy with their own tasks. As the maid, Yjor carried most of the responsibility, but Mococo tried to help out by wiping things down and counting a few coins.
"Hm," Yjor replied flatly, eyes still on her work.
Lately, the restaurant had been drawing in more and more visitors. Not only because this planet was finally beginning to free itself from the terror of the dragons, but also thanks to the rumor that had been spreading.
A cozy little place run by three charming Hi-breed girls—clean, quiet, affordable—and with one unusual rule: anyone could eat there, so long as they didn't try to bite the staff.
And so, while Yjor grew busier with each passing day, Mococo's name kept echoing further with every new guest who came through the door.
As for Fuwawa—
"Fhuaah?! Why did it frost?!" Fuwawa's voice echoed from the kitchen.
She was in the middle of cooking training again.
At first, neither of them believed Fuwawa could pull it off, but miraculously, she had come a long way. What once started as dishes no one could swallow had slowly turned into meals that were—well, actually edible.
The menu had even expanded thanks to her efforts.
Of course, that didn't mean her training came without… complications.
"¡Hola, guapa!"
(Hello, gorgeous!)
The stew suddenly croaked, bubbling as if it had grown a tongue of its own.
A heart-shaped bubble popped on the surface.
"¿Sabes que tienes los ojos más bonitos que he visto?"
(..."Do you know you have the prettiest eyes I've ever seen?)
"Hueeh?! I-It's speaking Barcelona?!" 「Fuwawa」
"Eres divina, y yo… soy la cena. ¿Por qué no hacemos la pareja perfecta?"("…You're divine, and I… am dinner. Why don't we make the perfect couple?")
By now, the twins and Yjor were used to her little kitchen disasters.
There was no need to panic, no need to grab buckets of water or fire extinguishers like before. Better to just let Fuwawa face her trials on her own—and avoid becoming another casualty of her "progress."
Yjor gave the kitchen a quick glance, then calmly went back to her work.
"Oi, you green handlebar head." 「Mococo」
"How could I even know? Someone like him always does whatever he wants. Just let him be. As long as you're still here calling his name, he'll come back. Just wait like an obedient puppy," Yjor's tone was flat, her eyes never leaving the accounting book in front of her.
"But it's been almost a month, you know? Aren't you even a little worried about him?"「Mococo」
"Why should I be? He's managed just fine without us before. In a world that's finally calming down, the only thing that could bother him now is back pain." Yjor shrugged, almost smiled at her own remark.
"Ohhh… Yjor, you really do know a lot about Grandpa, don't you?" Mococo leaned across the counter, tilting her head with a teasing smile. "Even though we met him at the same time. Sometimes I get jealous… you two seem so close. What's your secret?"
"Don't bother people while they're working," Yjor replied curtly, refusing to look up.
Mococo puffed her cheeks, drumming her fingers against the counter in protest.
"Anyway…" Mococo's voice softened, hesitant now, "…there's something I've been wanting to ask. Can I?"
By now, Yjor had learned to smooth out the edges of her words, and Mococo, in turn, no longer glared at her every time they spoke. They had both, in their own way, started to find each other's presence tolerable.
For Yjor, Mococo felt like a noisy pet living in the house.
For Mococo, Yjor was like a toy friend she could keep around at home.
Fortunately, neither of them knew about these little comparisons.
"As long as you stop that tap-tapping on the table," Yjor muttered, shooting her a side glance.
"Why did you call Grandpa… father?" Mococo pressed. "It was way back then, sure, maybe you don't remember it. But we do! You clearly called him father. Fuwawa doesn't really mind, but me? I wanna know. I'm curious~"
The green-haired maid's hands froze mid-task.
For a moment, Yjor wondered what she should say. Should it be a lie? A story too far-fetched to believe? Or maybe… the truth she had never told anyone else. It wasn't as if she was forbidden from talking about it, no one had ever told her she couldn't.
It was just… this kind of talk felt far too sensitive for her.
If the two of them hadn't grown this close, Yjor wouldn't have even considered answering. She would've beaten Mococo black and blue for daring to ask something like that, then swallowed her whole.
Just like a snake eating their prey.
Luckily for Mococo, she was asking now, at a time when Yjor already considered her… close enough.
"…A father and mother are the ones who bring you into this world. You at least know that much, right?" Yjor finally replied. "The short answer is… he's the one who made me, and the one I saw when I first opened my eyes."
Mococo bobbed her head twice, lips curling into a little hoo-hoo, I see.
"…But, who's Grandma then?" Mococo tilted her head.
"Mother? Hmm…" Yjor paused. "I can only think of Madam Cera. She's the only one who stayed by his side the longest, treated me kindly, and called me by my name. And just so we're clear—she's not dead."
"Cera? Madam? Well… what kind of person is she, anyway?" Mococo tilted her head again.
"From what I last remember, she was terrified of zombies," Yjor said slowly. "She always liked being close to that Old Man, talking with him. She could be full of humor one moment, and then dead serious the next."
"Do you… like your mother, then?" 「Mococo」
"L–Like?!" Yjor's ears twitched. She averted her eyes, fingers tightening against the counter. "I wouldn't put it that way… but yes. She's the only person I could never bring myself to hate. Even if it's the king of the world itself, I wouldn't do it."
As she spoke Madam Cera's name, a faint, fleeting smile tugged at her lips—there and gone in an instant. But even in that brief moment, it was enough for Mococo to spot it.
"Ohh—Yjor! You just smiled!" Mococo nearly jumped in her seat, pointing accusingly like she'd caught her red-handed. "I saw it—I definitely saw it!"
For someone as guarded as Yjor, that tiny curve of her lips was rare.
She often smiled, yes—but only when mocking or teasing others. A genuine smile, one so unguarded it made her look beautiful… that was something Mococo had never seen before.
"W-Well… it's been a while since I last talked about Madam," Yjor admitted, her voice quieter than usual as her fingers keep fidgeting beneath the counter. "So I guess I feel a little nervous… especially talking about her like this."
"Hm, I don't really get it… but the point is, you two were good to each other, right? Then what about Grandpa?" Mococo tilted her head. "If I asked which one you like more, who would it be—"
"Madam. Definitely Madam," Yjor cut her off without hesitation.
"P-Poor Grandpa." Mococo squeaked, quickly averting her gaze.
"Leave him. He'll be fine. He's stronger than me after all." (Yjor)
But something still nagged at Mococo.
When Yjor first came to the restaurant, hadn't she been part of the Trope of Regust—the very group that had kidnapped her? Then why—and when—had Yjor ended up in that organization at all?
Mococo couldn't remember ever seeing her there.
Someone as striking as Yjor… impossible to miss.
After piecing together her own theory, Mococo could only reach one conclusion: Yjor must've been some runaway delinquent kid who fell in with the wrong crowd. Then she joined that organization, only to met again with granpa!
"Uuu… sniff… poor Grandpa and Grandma…" Mococo whimpered.
"…Oi," Yjor's eyebrow twitched.
"Hm? What's this? You two seem awfully cozy, chatting without me," Fuwawa chimed in, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped out of the kitchen. Her nose twitched from the faint whiff of burnt broth still clinging to her hair.
Since the clattering from the kitchen had gone quiet, Mococo and Yjor had assumed she was done experimenting. Sure enough, the older twin bounced over, eyes sparkling with curiosity, and wedged herself right between them without hesitation.
"Listen, Fuwawa! It turns out there really is a Grandma!" 「Mococo」
"Grandma? Wait—don't tell me you actually asked her?!" Fuwawa gasped, her ears twitching with excitement. Then she whirled toward Yjor, eyes wide. "And that means it's true… Yjor is… Grandpa's daughter?!"
The maid's jaw tightened and added it with a sharp glare, "Got a problem with that?"
"Of course not!" Fuwawa shot back, waving her hands as if to clear any misunderstanding. "But it's unfair if only Mococo got to hear! I wanna know too—who's Yjor's mom? Who's Grandpa's wife? C'mon, spill already!"
"SO! Is she beautiful?" Fuwawa leaned forward across the counter, chin propped on her hands like she was asking the most important question in the world. "Huhuhu~ I bet she looks really mature—just like Grandpa."
"Does she smell nice?" Mococo chimed in, leaning closer and sniffing dramatically in Yjor's direction like a curious puppy. "Hehehe~ I bet she smells like old books… just like Grandpa."
Yjor nearly dropped the money bag in her hands.
Her face twitched, caught between horror and exasperation. "Wh—Wh—Hush! What kind of questions are those to ask about Madam?!" Her voice cracked halfway through, and to her dismay, both twins immediately grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered she was becoming.
"Don't make things up about Madam!" Yjor snapped, her horns giving the faintest shimmer as if to punctuate her warning. Then, almost under her breath, she added, "…Though she did smell like sweet mango… and she was… very cute…"
"Ohhh~ Like a mango~ You seem very keen about it~" Fuwawa sing-songed, swaying smugly with her hands planted on her hips. "Then this means Yjor is a mama's girl! That explains why you act all distant with Grandpa. You really love your mama, don't you~?"
"Yjor is a mama's girl~ Yjor is a mama's girl~" Mococo chimed in like a backup singer, tapping out a rhythm on the counter with her fingers as if drumming along to her sister's chant.
Yjor's cheeks went crimson. She stomped a foot so hard the floor creaked, fists trembling at her sides. "S-Stop calling Madam mama this and that! That's rude! Do you two even know what her presence means to existence itself?!"
The twins exchanged a quick mischievous glance—then leaned in at the same time, their faces so close Yjor had to lean back.
"Mama's girl~ Mama's girl~" they sang in perfect, mocking harmony.
"Oi! I mean it!" Yjor barked, her voice shaking as much as her fists.
But the tips of her ears betrayed her, they are turning bright pink, glowing like tiny beacons against her green hair. Even her horns, usually smooth and polished began to shift in texture, faint ridges crawling across their surface like ripples on stone.
The twins froze for half a second, eyes widening—not in fear, but in delight.
"Ohhh~ look, look! Even her horns are blushing!" Fuwawa laughed, pointing.
"Mama's girl~ with shiny pink horns~" Mococo sang, dancing in a little circle around the counter.
Yjor's whole body stiffened. "T-That's not—! Ughhh, you two little mutts!" She covered her horns with her hands as if that would hide them, but the gesture only made the twins laugh harder.
"..." 「the Old Man」
From outside, someone was listening in on the ruckus inside.
The Old Man—who had been standing there for who knows how long—was right at the restaurant's entrance. He's just an inch away from grabbing the door's handle, step away from getting inside his restaurant.
It would've been easy for him to step in, yet strangely… he didn't.
Instead, he stayed rooted in place, listening to the chaos within. The shattering of dishes, the clatter of utensils crashing to the floor, the sound of voices bouncing off the walls—it all reached him, yet he never moved to stop it.
"…So the Evil Snake has found it again." 「the Old Man」
Rather than entering, he slipped his hands into his pockets and turned away from the door. Without another glance, he walked off onto the long, broken streets, his destination unclear.
As he wandered, his fingers brushed against something in his pocket—a key.
The key to his restaurant.
"In that case," he murmured under his breath, "what I need to do is clear."
He let it fall, the faint clink swallowed by the empty street, and kept walking without looking back.