The warmth of the food, the low hum of quiet conversation, and the faint orchestral music woven into the background made the morning stretch like silk. Outside, the sprawling city kept moving—hovercraft streaming along elevated causeways, towers shifting with subtle architectural adjustments—but here, the booth was a bubble of stillness.
Lan Xue lifted her spoon slowly, savoring each sip of her broth like she was measuring the flavor against every meal she'd ever had. "I swear this is better than anything I've tasted in the capital," she murmured, setting the spoon down delicately.
Mu Qing was more casual, half-slouched with her elbow propped on the table as she refilled her cup with the shimmering tea. She breathed it in before taking a measured sip, letting the warmth linger in her chest. "If this is what counts as a normal breakfast for you," she said, side-eyeing Max, "I'd hate to see what you call special."
Max just cut another slice of steak, the edge of his fork tapping gently against the plate. "Special isn't about the food," he replied, voice even. "It's about the company."
That made Rize grin. "You mean us, right? Not the steak?"
Max didn't look up. "Steak doesn't interrupt me when I'm eating."
That got a small laugh from Gwen, who had been unusually quiet, slowly working her way through the cheese and cured meats. She had a faint flush to her cheeks—not embarrassment, just the way her skin warmed when she was truly content.
The service drones moved in near silence, refreshing water, replacing empty dishes, never intruding on the mood. A basket of still-warm bread appeared at the center of the table at one point, without anyone asking. The sourdough had that perfect balance of crisp crust and soft, fragrant interior, and even Malaika, who rarely indulged in baked goods, reached for a piece.
The sun shifted slightly outside, light refracting through the glass so that the table's crystal constellations shimmered again under their hands. Rize leaned forward to trace one, her fingertip making a star flicker faintly. "Feels like a map," she said.
"It is," Max confirmed between bites. "Not of this city. Not even of this planet."
That earned a raised eyebrow from Mu Qing, but she didn't press. Not here, not now.
For a while, there was no talk—just the quiet sound of cutlery, the occasional soft clink of a cup being set down, and the faint exhale of someone sighing into their food. The kind of silence that didn't need to be broken, because it was the natural kind—easy, unforced.
When the last plates were cleared, the drone brought a final course for each of them—something small, elegant, and just sweet enough to be a proper ending. Lan Xue's was a delicate fruit jelly with suspended petals. Rize's was a bite-sized molten cake dusted with edible gold. Gwen's was a crystal shard of sugar infused with lavender, while Malaika's was a tiny ceramic cup of spiced cream.
Max's was a single dark chocolate truffle, placed in the center of a small white dish. He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers for a second before biting in. The flavor bloomed slow—bitter first, then smooth, then leaving a trace of heat at the back of his throat.
When he set the dish down, the table felt… settled. Everyone had eaten their fill, and for a brief moment, there was nothing else in the world except this—good food, good company, and the sense that outside troubles could wait just a little longer.
Eventually, Max leaned back, one arm draped along the back of the booth. "Alright," he said, his voice calm but carrying that subtle note of finality. "We've got the rest of the day ahead. Let's not waste it."
Nobody rushed to stand. They lingered a moment longer, letting the warmth of the meal fade naturally, before the booth's door slid open and the noise of the city spilled back in.
And just like that, they stepped out of the stillness and into the world again.
They emerged from the restaurant into the layered streets, where morning light filtered through towering superstructures and the distant hum of magnetic rail lines traced the skyline.
The air was a mix of crisp freshness from the higher levels and the faint tang of machine oil drifting upward from the industrial zones below.
Rize tilted her head back to watch a transport skimmer glide silently between two spires. "Feels like the city never actually sleeps," she said.
"It doesn't," Max replied, hands in his coat pockets. "Only slows down when it wants to pretend it's civilized."
Lan Xue's gaze drifted toward the tiered bridges, where people in tailored suits strode quickly past clusters of street merchants selling steaming dumplings and intricate pieces of wearable tech. "Balanced chaos," she murmured.
"Controlled," Max corrected. "And that control's not cheap."
They moved into one of the main pedestrian arteries—wide enough to fit an entire ground vehicle, though none were allowed here. Holo-banners shimmered overhead, each one perfectly adjusted for height and perspective so no matter where you stood, the advertisement seemed tailored directly to you.
Somewhere far off, a deep, resonant chime rolled through the city. Not loud enough to be alarming, but enough to make a few passersby pause and glance upward. A rank signal—one of the high-tier recognition tones, usually reserved for corporate announcements or major access clearance confirmations.
Mu Qing's brow furrowed. "That's not common."
"It's not," Max agreed, his tone neutral, though his eyes were sharp.
They passed a kiosk selling layered coffee infusions, the vendor calling out specials in three languages. Gwen slowed for just a moment, her eyes catching on the gleam of a glass canister filled with something that looked like crystallized cream, but Max kept walking, and she fell back in step without a word.
The street curved slightly upward, leading toward a junction where the lower commercial levels blended seamlessly into the corporate sector. Here, the security presence was subtle—drones drifting lazily at high altitude, their sensors quietly sweeping, and humanoid enforcers disguised as casual pedestrians.
Max glanced at the reflective surface of a nearby transit hub wall, watching the people behind them without actually turning his head. Nothing immediate. Just the city breathing as it always did.
Still, the tone from earlier lingered in the air like an aftertaste.
"Let's take the long way," Max said finally, and the others followed without question.
***
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It's 22 chaps ahead