When Chu Zihang reached the second floor, the full scope of their location became clear. Through the massive panoramic windows, he could see they were aboard an enormous ship—truly a floating restaurant as Gustave had claimed. The ship was currently moored at what appeared to be a bustling port.
Beyond the windows stretched an extraordinary cityscape. A massive fountain dominated the center, with countless waterways radiating outward like arteries. Dense clusters of buildings lined these canals, their architecture reminiscent of Venice but with a distinctly fantastical quality. Most striking were the inhabitants—several humans walking about whose heights far exceeded normal proportions.
Chu Zihang realized he had indeed entered a world beyond ordinary comprehension.
"So," he said after a long moment of observation, "where exactly is this?"
"You don't recognize this place? That massive fountain is practically iconic, and those giants walking around... you really don't know?" Gustave asked
Gustave was genuinely puzzled. If Chu Zihang could identify Po and Tom from their respective franchises, why couldn't he recognize Water 7?
"Am I supposed to know where this is?" Chu Zihang asked, his confusion evident.
Seeing the teenager's genuinely bewildered expression, Gustave realized he truly had no idea.
"The One Piece world, Water 7 specifically. Does that help?"
"Ah, One Piece," Chu Zihang nodded slowly. "I've heard of it, but never watched it."
That explained everything. Someone like Chu Zihang, with his intense focus and limited free time, probably wouldn't have the luxury of following a thousand-episode anime series.
"Well, you just need to understand that this is the One Piece world," Gustave said, gesturing toward the iconic fountain in the distance. "In terms of excitement and adventure, it rivals anything Cassel College might offer."
Chu Zihang's attention sharpened. "From the way you say that... do you know about Cassel College?"
"Po and Tom are characters from various forms of entertainment," Gustave said carefully. "Have you ever considered that you might also be a character in someone else's story?"
The question hung in the air like a physical weight. Of course, there was something else Gustave didn't mention—when he'd first encountered Po and Tom, he'd wondered the same thing about himself. But Gustave had always been naturally optimistic, figuring that even if he was fictional, he must be the protagonist, so why worry?
Chu Zihang was different. The implications of potentially being fictional struck him with profound gravity. He fell into a lengthy silence, wrestling with concepts that challenged the very foundation of his existence.
After all, if someone suddenly informed you that your entire life might be scripted, that your deepest tragedies and most painful memories might be nothing more than plot devices... it would shake anyone to their core.
"Can you tell me what my story's ending is?" Chu Zihang finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I honestly don't know the complete story," Gustave replied with a heavy sigh, placing a comforting hand on the teenager's shoulder. "What I do know is that your author put you through hell. When I was following the series, fans were constantly sending death threats to the writer because of how much suffering he put you through."
Gustave had secretly read Dragon Raja during his past life. He'd only gotten through the third volume before hearing that the fourth installment had been widely criticized online for ruining the series. He'd never bothered to read the conclusion.
"I see..." Chu Zihang's response was barely audible.
"Hey now, don't let that get you down," Gustave said with renewed energy, clapping his hands together. "How about we focus on something more pleasant? What would you like to eat? Before I came to this world, I was a renowned chef—my culinary skills are exceptional!"
Chu Zihang considered the offer for a long moment, clearly struggling to engage with such mundane concerns after their previous conversation.
"You choose," he said finally.
Seeing the young man's dejected state, Gustave immediately knew exactly what to prepare.
"Come with me to the first floor. The kitchen's down there, plus there's an outdoor dining area where you can get some fresh air."
"Alright," Chu Zihang nodded, following Gustave downstairs.
Po and Tom, who had been observing from a distance, exchanged confused glances as they watched the somber teenager.
"What's the big deal about being fictional characters?" Po wondered aloud. "It doesn't stop us from eating delicious food and having fun. Why not just live happily?"
When Gustave had originally told Po and Tom about their fictional origins, both had adamantly refused to hear any spoilers. Their philosophy was simple: don't overthink things, just live each day with joy.
They hadn't expected this serious young man to have such a dramatically different reaction.
"Tom, are we really as carefree as Gustave says?" Po asked, scratching his head thoughtfully.
Tom's response was characteristically practical—he pulled two colorful popsicles from seemingly nowhere, offering one to Po while keeping the other for himself.
"You're right," Po chuckled, accepting the treat. "Let's leave all the complicated thinking to Gustave. We'll just enjoy our popsicles and be happy."
The unlikely pair made their way leisurely to the first floor, contentedly licking their frozen treats.
After serving Chu Zihang a tall glass of fresh avocado juice, Gustave headed to the kitchen to begin cooking. The teenager sat alone at a table beneath a cheerful parasol, sipping his drink and lost in contemplation when Po and Tom approached.
Seeing their guest looking so isolated, Po nudged Tom with his elbow.
"Tom, stop hogging those popsicles and offer our guest one."
Tom reached behind his back with typical cartoon logic and produced another popsicle, extending it toward Chu Zihang with a friendly grin.
"Thank you," Chu Zihang said, accepting the offering and gesturing for them to join him at the table.
After a moment of comfortable silence, curiosity got the better of him.
"Do you both know that you're characters from fictional works?"
"Of course," Po replied nonchalantly, while Tom nodded in agreement. "Gustave wanted to tell us our whole stories once, but we told him we didn't want to hear it."
"Why?" Chu Zihang was genuinely puzzled.
"We figured it would just complicate things," Po explained with his characteristic wisdom. "We prefer to focus on living happily each day. Overthinking only creates unnecessary problems."
Chu Zihang's mind drifted to that rain-soaked night—the memory he could never escape, the tragedy that had shaped his entire existence. Could he really learn to live simply and happily despite everything he'd endured?
While his new guest, Gustave retreated to the sanctum of his kitchen. A familiar fire ignited within him, the passion of a chef faced with a profound duty. This was more than a meal for a visitor; it was an anchor for a lost soul, a taste of welcome from a world beyond imagining. He decided on char siu rice—a dish of profound comfort, designed to soothe and impress.
The ideal recipe called for a specific cut of pork loin, a fantasy in the world of One Piece with its bizarre and unpredictable fauna. It was a recurring challenge, but one he met with the confidence of a master. A magnificent, deep-red cut of prime beef, beautifully marbled with fat, would serve as his canvas.
He laid the beef on his block and pierced it with a skewer, creating channels. Next, he prepared the marinade: a fragrant blend of minced onion, ginger, and garlic, combined with his secret smoky-sweet barbecue sauce and a splash of wine. Here, however, he faced his first true hurdle. Proper char siu required hours of marination, a luxury he did not have.
A wry smile touched Gustave's lips. Time was a constraint for normies, but he was no longer merely a normal chef.
Extending his hand over the bowl of meat and marinade, he focused his will. A low hum filled the kitchen, and the air crackled with a faint scent of ozone. Tiny, brilliant blue sparks danced across his fingertips before cascading into the bowl. He channeled a micro-current of controlled electricity from his Rumble-Rumble Fruit powers directly into the beef. It was an astonishingly delicate application of a force that could obliterate islands. The low voltage worked on a molecular level, causing the muscle fibers to relax and expand, instantly tenderizing the cut. The gentle electrical charge actively drew the marinade deep into the meat, achieving in moments what would have normally taken half a day.
With the marination complete, he turned to the dual tasks of rice and fire. He set a traditional clay pot to cook, its interior oiled to create the coveted crispy socarrat at the bottom. He then lit the charcoal grill, the coals glowing like dormant embers. But he wouldn't be relying on charcoal alone.
He placed the skewered beef on the grate. Then, closing his eyes for a moment, he summoned his power once more. A thin, searing-hot arc of blue lightning leaped from his index finger to the surface of the meat, producing a sharp sizzle and an explosion of savory aroma. He moved his hand with the grace of a painter, "painting" the surface of the beef with precise bursts of electrical heat. This "lightning sear" was his own invention, a technique that created a perfect, caramelized crust in seconds, locking in every drop of moisture while leaving the inside impossibly tender. It was the ultimate expression of his dual nature: the heart of a chef wielding the power of a god.
When the clay pot signaled the rice was perfectly steamed and the lightning-seared char siu was glistening with a flawless lacquer, he began the final assembly. He sliced the beef into succulent portions and arranged them over the fragrant rice. A soft-poached egg, its yolk a perfect, jammy gold, was nested on top, accompanied by crisp, bright vegetables for color and balance.
The finished bowl was a testament to his journey. It was a dish born from the memory of his old world but forged with the extraordinary power of his new one. It was more than a welcome; it was a promise, a demonstration that even in a chaotic multiverse, the hands of a master chef could create a moment of perfect, thunderous harmony.