The savory smoke from the kitchen of the eatery filled the cozy room, mingling with the hushed chatter of the few customers scattered at wooden tables. "Ahh, that's delicious for sure. The aroma is so good! I wonder what they have here. Is it different from my world? My last meal was beef noodles with boiled egg," Ronaldo mused to himself, taking a seat on a sturdy wooden block near the counter.
The old man, who had previously been so gruff, cast a fierce look in Ronaldo's direction, a silent reminder of his earlier outburst. Just then, the old woman emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray. Ronaldo's eyes shone with anticipation; he knew the food on the tray was for him. "Here, eat some. This is my specialty: dinuguan and grilled pigox," she said, setting the steaming plate before him.
Ronaldo blinked, surprised by the unfamiliar names. "Err—what is this, Grandma?"
"It's the blood of a pigox and its meat that has been grilled," the old woman explained patiently.
The old man cleared his throat, a low rumble. "Just eat! You're being ungrateful at my beautiful wife's cooking!"
Ronaldo immediately straightened up, his posture almost military. "Nep! Thank you for your food, Grandma and Grandpa!" He stood and bowed deeply to them both, then clapped his palms together in a gesture of gratitude before eagerly digging in. "Nom, nom, nom, nom… Wahhhhhh, this is delicious, Grandma! I love this!" His voice was muffled by the food, but his genuine delight was unmistakable.
The old woman just smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Alright, alright, just enjoy your food. Don't think about the payment; it's free!" she chuckled, her smile widening. Ronaldo felt a warmth spread through him, a feeling far more profound than just the satisfaction of hunger. Tears welled up in his eyes. "Thank you, Grandma!" he whispered, genuinely moved by her kindness.
Ronaldo ate and ate, savoring every bite, until the plate was spotlessly clean. He felt a newfound energy coursing through his new body, a vibrant sensation he hadn't experienced in a long time. He looked around. The old man was diligently cleaning a nearby table, and the counter was empty. Ronaldo quietly stood up and moved towards the direction from which the old woman had emerged with his meal, a swinging curtain marking the kitchen entrance. As he lifted the curtain, he saw the old woman at a large basin, methodically washing a towering pile of dishes.
Ronaldo rushed forward. "Grandma, let me do that!"
"Oh no, boy, just put that there and you can leave now," she said gently, not looking up from her task.
"No, Grandma, I'm going to repay what I ate. Let me help you," Ronaldo insisted, stepping closer. The old woman, however, simply continued washing, seemingly unhearing.
Determined, Ronaldo raised his hands, focusing his will. "Water Bubble!" he whispered. Immediately, the entire stack of dirty dishes lifted into the air, encased within a shimmering sphere of water. Ronaldo then injected a concentrated stream of soapy liquid into the water bubble, and the dishes began to swirl and clatter within, like a magical washing machine, scrubbing themselves clean with surprising efficiency. After a few moments, the water turned murky, and Ronaldo dissolved the bubble, letting the now-clean dishes clatter softly back onto the counter. He then raised his hands again. "Wind Tornado!" With a soft whoosh, the dishes lifted once more, spinning rapidly in the air above the ceiling, a gentle breeze drying them instantly. Ronaldo then expertly guided them, one by one, into the cabinets, arranging them neatly.
The old woman was too stunned to speak. Her mouth hung slightly open, her eyes wide with disbelief as she watched the magical display. "You're… you're talented, young boy," she finally managed to stammer, a soft smile spreading across her face.
Ronaldo gave a bashful, "Hehehe."
Just then, the old man's voice boomed from the front. "Honey! The boy vanished! I told you, don't do it ever aga-" He stopped abruptly as he walked into the kitchen, seeing Ronaldo standing there, patting his head innocently, and his wife smiling at him. "What happened? Where are the stock-piling dishes?"
"This boy just washed them. You wouldn't believe what I saw!" the old woman exclaimed, her eyes still sparkling with wonder.
"Oh, great, you know how to repay her kindness," the old man grumbled, though there was a hint of grudging respect in his tone.
"Are you done cleaning, Grandpa? I'll help you," Ronaldo offered, already grabbing a broom and dustpan without hesitation. He set about cleaning the entire front room of the eatery.
He cleaned so fast, a blur of motion guided by an unseen efficiency, that every corner of the eatery was sparkling, tables wiped, floors swept, and chairs neatly aligned. The old couple stood there, once again too stunned to speak, watching this extraordinary boy with his incredible, inexplicable abilities. Ronaldo looked at the window. The first hints of dawn were painting the sky with soft hues of orange and pink. "It's getting dawn. I must head on. Thank you, Grandma and Grandpaps, for everything!"
"Where are you going?" the old man asked, a rare note of concern in his voice.
"I-I don't know, hehe," Ronaldo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"You can stay here. You said you were lost," the old man offered, a surprising softness in his eyes.
"Really? Is that possible? Huhuhu!" Ronaldo rejoiced, tears of gratitude once again springing to his eyes. He threw his arms around the old man in a tight hug. The old man was utterly surprised, standing frozen for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face, returning the embrace. The old woman watched them, her face beaming, as if seeing her husband hugging their own long-lost son.
Later that evening, after the last customer had left and the eatery was closed for the night, they prepared for bed. The atmosphere was silent and cozy, a comforting contrast to the day's events. Ronaldo was lying on a makeshift bed made of two collided tables, a warm blanket and comforter provided by Hala.
"Hmm, you've shown so much kindness to me, Grandpaps and Grandma. May I ask what your names are?" Ronaldo inquired, breaking the comfortable silence.
"Oh-ho, darling, there's so much that's happened, and we didn't even have a chance to exchange our names," Hala said, her voice soft and reflective. "My name is Hala, and my husband's name is Migo. We've lived here ever since our son died on a mission." Her voice hitched slightly at the mention of her son.
"What mission?" Ronaldo asked gently, sensing the underlying sadness.
"It was a mission against the natural force," Hala explained, a somber tone entering her voice. "He wasn't about to join it, but they were forced to, as they would be kicked out of the kingdom's Magic Knights if they refused. So he had no choice. They ventured into the western forested land, and they discovered that there is a magical tree that contains raw magic. But it was too late for them to escape. The dragon who is its guardian, since the time of its creation, punished them for their bad intentions. Sadly, it was my son Harold who didn't return after that mission."
Ronaldo's mind immediately connected the dots. Old Hala must be referring to Zephyrus. And the Tree of Balete. A cold knot formed in his stomach. My actions, even unintentional, might have caused Zephyrus to be less forgiving.
"Grandma, then what happened next?" Ronaldo prompted, needing to know more.
Hala continued, her voice filled with a mixture of resentment and resignation. "That mission paved the way for Creyd to discover another source of power. Since then, they tried to attempt cutting the tree, but they can't, since the dragon, its guardian, is so powerful. What they did is they cut the roots of the tree away from the dragon's reach, but it was not enough. They have already cut roots that if they continue, the dragon will attack them again."
"But, why are they destroying the tree and attacking the dragon?" Ronaldo asked, baffled by the sheer audacity and short-sightedness.
"Because that's the only easy way to gain more power instead of earning it through training and experience," Hala explained, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "The King wants it so bad that every year he commands his Magic Knights to attack the dragon and destroy the tree."
"That's being too greedy! Why can't they just earn it through training and experience instead of destroying the tree?" Ronaldo exclaimed, his voice rising in indignation.
"Because that's not the only reason," Hala replied, looking at Ronaldo with a weary expression. "The King's son was killed by that dragon because they attacked the dragon."
"Isn't that their fault, Grandma?" Ronaldo pressed.
"For me, it is," Hala said with a sigh. "But it is how the system in this kingdom works, and even in other countries and kingdoms too. They compete with each other. If they lose, they will be subject to being invaded by other powerful kingdoms. Enough for this chitchat. Save the rest for the other time of conversation." Hala smiled softly, recognizing his exhaustion. She adjusted the blanket over him.
"Okay, Grandma! Thank you for this," Ronaldo whispered, already feeling the comfort of the makeshift bed. He closed his eyes, his mind swirling with the day's revelations. He had found shelter, kindness, and a meal, but he had also stumbled upon a dangerous conflict at the heart of this new world.