Preparations for the grand opening of Café Leblanc — 1st International Branch[1] were in full swing.
The exterior sign had only been installed yesterday, and already tourists were stopping to snap photos. The old-fashioned plaque felt like a piece of Yongen-Jaya transplanted into the heart of New York, and strangely enough… the city loved it.
Well—mostly in full swing.
Renovations were easy.
Cleaning was easy.
Even coaxing the café, now practically a sentient houseplant, into cooperating was easy.
The place even had developed a habit of "expressing itself" whenever Hero worked on something new. He still wasn't sure if it was sentient in a Metaverse kind of way or just overly enthusiastic home automation powered by god-knows-what, but it listened. And it responded.
Sometimes a little too eagerly.
But the real war?
The menu.[2]
Hero tapped a pen against his notebook, the physical one, because systems were nice, but nothing beat old-fashioned handwriting when it came to cooking.
He wanted the food to bridge two worlds. American classics, Japanese comfort food, fusion dishes that would make a Food Network judge cry tears of joy… he wanted all of it. Burgers to ramen. Sandwiches to katsu. Pancakes to yakisoba.
The result was a list that had grown from a modest handful of dishes to something resembling the opening ceremony of the Olympics.
The café flickered its lights approvingly whenever Hero finalized something it liked, which made him suspect it was developing opinions.
If you could think of it, Joker's Kitchen could make it appear—perfectly plated, with that signature touch that came from maxed-out Proficiency and infinite stubbornness.
"Your menu is becoming an encyclopedia," Morgana muttered from the counter, watching Hero flip through notebooks filled with scribbles, diagrams, flowcharts, and questionable doodles. "At this point, even Futaba would say your planning looks like overkill."
"It's called ambition," Hero replied while rejecting yet another recipe revision. "And ambition is good."
"Ambition is good. Perfectionism is a disease." Morgana rolled over lazily. "Also you don't need four different fusion curry tiers."
Hero didn't look up. "I narrowed it down from seven."
"…We're doomed."
But effect recipes?
Those were trickier.
Of course, the staples were already locked in:
Leblanc Coffee.
Leblanc Curry.
Though these weren't Sojiro's exact formulas anymore, these were tailored with the café system's new function in mind.
…Which led to the problem.
Reformulation. Endless, endless reformulation.
The Café System's new Effect Function let him imbue dishes and drinks with soft, game-like bonuses:
Calming aroma, increased focus, boosted confidence, emotional clarity…
But every effect recipe needed careful testing.
Too much spice?
Customers gain temporary fire resistance.
Too little?
Customers gain mild regret and nothing else.
Hero stood in the kitchen, surrounded by bowls, pots, pans, and a Morgana who had already resigned himself to being an unofficial taste-tester.
"Try this," Hero said, sliding a small spoonful of curry across the counter.
Morgana sniffed, licked, and immediately puffed up.
"I—hic—think you added lightning."
A spark jumped off his whiskers.
Hero scribbled that down.
Hero adding a pinch of cinnamon →
The pot exploding into harmless glitter.
Morgana groaning, "Not again…"
A cup of coffee that glowed faintly →
Hero sipping it →
Hero suddenly speaking in philosophical quotes for ten minutes straight.
A dessert attempt →
A pudding that tried to climb out of the bowl like a sentient slime.
Hero sighing and gently pushing it back.
Hero glanced at the empty pastry fridge.
Pastries were the long-term goal.
Croissants, souffles, tarts—things that demanded time and manpower. Two resources he currently lacked.
Still, he kept a growing blueprint of what he wanted someday:
Seasonal fruit tarts.
Spicy apple turnovers using curry spices.
Coffee jelly that actually boosted alertness.
Chocolate éclairs infused with a calming "Effect."
"Someday," Hero murmured, sliding the plans back into a folder.
The café gave a single warm flicker. Supportive.
"Yeah, yeah," Morgana yawned. "Dream big. Just don't expect me to bake."
After several days of trial-and-error, mostly error, he had at least a dozen solid effect recipes:
Clarity Coffee, Courage Curry, Focus Tea, Mend-the-Soul Soup, and a suspiciously powerful dessert that he locked behind five safety warnings and a deadbolt.
He also drafted a Special Menu—items reserved for people he deemed worthy.
Someday, if someone showed the right heart, the right drive, the right spark… they could taste his Master Coffee or Master Curry.
But that day was still far ahead.
As the sun dipped toward evening, Hero moved around the café, adjusting chairs, polishing surfaces, aligning condiment holders. Not because he had to—because it grounded him.
Soft jazz played from unseen speakers.
A gentle breeze from the AC carried the aroma of roasted beans.
Warm light brushed the wooden counters.
Morgana lounged across the register area, tail swaying lazily off the edge.
"You've been in perfection mode all day," he said. "Take a break. Sit. Drink water. Do human things."
"I'm fine," Hero replied, though his hands were still adjusting the angle of a napkin dispenser.
"You're setting the dispenser to a 45-degree angle like it's a puzzle in a Palace."
Hero froze. "…It looks better this way."
"It looks obsessive."
The café lights flicked twice, siding with Hero.
Traitor.
Morgana groaned. "Stop enabling him."
Hero stepped back, surveying everything one more time.
Tables: done.
Lights: calibrated.
Menu board: clean and gleaming.
Test batches: labeled (even the hazardous ones).
Ambience: warm and inviting.
Everything felt… right.
Everything felt ready.
"Tomorrow's the big day," Hero muttered, stepping back to admire the polished tables. "Everything needs to be perfect."
Morgana yawned. "It'll be great. And if it's not? Eh. You can just charm them with your mysterious protagonist aura."
"I don't have a mysterious—"
The door chimed.
Hero didn't look up immediately. "Apologies, we aren't open to the public just ye—"
His voice cut off.
Because the moment he lifted his head—
The air shifted.
The café seemed to straighten itself.
Something—or someone—stood in the doorway who absolutely did not belong on an ordinary evening.
Hero froze mid-sentence, eyes widening just a fraction.
Morgana sat up instantly, fur on edge. "Uh… Hero?"
Hero swallowed.
"…You're early," he said softly.
[1] Well this is a feature... Will use if useful.
[2] 😋