Just like any other day, once the clock strikes a quarter before twelve, the crispy sound of the bell on top of the floor echoed through the restaurant. From the opened door, a few towering and bulky orcs walked in. Behind them, few Goblins and Goblinas could also be seen.
"Welcome to Checkpoint." After receiving the greeting from his employees, the crowds offered them a nod without breaking their stride.
For some reason, these people from Tempest had never sat on the bar table, at least until it was the only empty seat remaining. It felt like the seats in the bar had become something like exclusive seats, reserved only for the closest patron to him or for those who had considerable power.
The restaurant that had become quite slow after the preparation was done, went into the next gear. Those who were responsible for the hall moved, while Bilo positioned himself in the countertop on the kitchen.
The bell chimed again, announcing the arrival of the next set of guests. But rather than flailing around and moving with chaotic urgency, the employees kept their calm. Shouting the greeting just after looking at the new arrival.
Ludwig couldn't help but smile as he looked at them. It was the most basic example for development. They were no longer the fumbling and stuttering mess they were in their few first days in the restaurant. Now, every step was filled with certainty. Their movement was precise and full of calculation about which tables they should come first.
Coupled that with how they moved when they were helping him prepare the ingredients, it was not an exaggeration to say they were already a full fledged employee of a restaurant. Even if he decided to fire them, not that he would, he was sure they would easily land a job anywhere.
Except for in Ortus, of course.
Not long after the bell chimed for the third time in the afternoon, the first order came knocking.
Vilera moved with her usual calmness and grace from the hall, stopping shy before she hit the table of the bar. "2 Galbijjim, 1 Tempura set, 3 Fried chicken, 1 Amberdraft, and 5 lemonade."
Ludwig's brows raised in amusement. An ale in the middle of the day. It was not unprecedented per say. He himself used to quite enjoy drinking in the middle of the day. But coming from people who came from Tempest? Well, maybe they just want to sneak one in to be able to carry on to the end of the day.
"Aye aye." Ludwig gave his answer. His hands quickly moved to the tankards storage just beneath the bar. He then filled it with the Amberdraft before giving it to Vilera.
Now with his back turned against the dining hall, Ludwig could see Bilo already standing in front of the stove. In his hands, piles of pre-fried fried chicken could be seen.
After snapping his finger to lift the stasis effect of his mana on one of the big pan sitting on the stove, he gave Bilo a nod. "Take care of the fried chicken. Remember, it has been fried once before, so don't fry it too long this time."
"Yes, chef." Bilo answered promptly.
While Bilo was refrying the chicken, Ludwig let a few strands of his mana float around the kitchen. Its destination was clear, the plates in the cupboard.
It landed on the countertop with a soft thud. Moments later, Ludwig's hands moved to where the vegetables were. He laid down a thin bed of the vegetables first, letting their colors form the base.
Once he finished with all of them, he floated the plate and brought it to the big pot on the stove. With tongs, he fished the content inside the pot. One rib went over the vegetables, then another, bones crossing lightly like a quiet stack. A ladle of the sauce followed, thick and dark, pooling just enough to gloss the plate without drowning it.
Once all three plates were filled, he brought them back to the countertop. There, he poured the top with sesame oil for shine, the smell nutty and warm. A pinch of sesame seeds scattered over the glaze, tiny white flecks against brown. Then thin strands of green onion, curled from an ice bath, landed on top like soft ribbons.
Giving his handiwork a nod, Ludwig looked towards Bilo. He was currently fishing the fried chickens out from the hot oil. He would need 2 to 3 minutes more to finish it completely.
Rather than waiting, he first brought the plates of Galbijjim to the separator. "Order's up."
Vilera angled her head towards him as a sign of acknowledgement. But as she brought it for the customers, Valerie and Finka moved in.
With her usual sing-song voice, Valerie told him the order. "1 Galbijjim, 2 Fried Chicken, and 2 Tempura sets. For the drinks, 5 lemonades."
After acknowledging the orders Valerie brought, Ludwig's eyes moved towards Finka. "3 Fried chicken, 3 Tempura sets, and 6 lemonades."
With his body halfway turned to the kitchen, Ludwig opened his mouth. "Alright."
On the countertop, Bilo was already plating the fried chicken. The golden brown plain fried chicken sat in harmony with fried chicken covered in red sauce.
Seeing he was about to be done with his first batch, Ludwig opened his mouth. "Make sixteen lemonades after serving that, Bilo. I'll take care of frying the chicken."
Bilo looked up from the plate, but hands were still moving, putting more and more necessary garnish to the plate. "Yessir."
With that, Ludwig's hands moved again. Plates softly thudding on top of the counter with his summons, Stasis Cabinet's door opened, and the pre-fried chicken as well as the tempura batter and ingredients flew at him in exact numbers.
He dragged them to the stove with him. Then, he plunged the first 3 portions of chicken into the boiling oil.
Five portions at once were too much. One, the pan was not big enough to house all five portions of chicken, while two, the temperature of the oil would drop too much, resulting in much greasier chicken.
While he let the chicken get cooked to perfection, chopsticks flew to his hands. He pinched a big shrimp in the tail and dipped it towards the batter before pulling it out again. The beige viscous batter slid back to the container below, coating the shrimp just enough. And just like that, he plunged the coated shrimp into another pan full of hot oil.
The process repeated for several more times. More shrimp, some squid, and some vegetables.
While the first batch of the tempuras was being fried, he fished the chicken out from the hot oil and set it aside. But the job's not done, the next batch of fried chicken was already waiting to be fried.
Thankfully, by the time he fished out the first batch of tempuras, Bilo was already standing beside him. Passing the torch for the fried chicken to him, Ludwig used his mana to set some vegetables on the bowl for Galbijjim.
As he moved around busily, the restaurant gave him several more buzz. More and more customers were flocking into the restaurant. However, one particular buzz was different from others.
With his focus still on finishing the food, he let his senses wander. And what he saw quite surprised him.
The new customers were not people from Tempest. They were humans, or, looked like humans. After all, their body was covered from head to toe. No, not with an animal mask and grey armor, but with black hoodie that had a shadowy texture stretching down to their legs.
From their attire alone, it was easy to see who they were. Mercenary from the Shadow Hand. Claire's co-worker.
Just like any other new patron to the restaurant, except for those who already know, they quickly assumed a fighting stance as soon as they saw the other patron in the restaurant. Even without him being able to see their face, he was sure that their eyes were already scanning, expression became as serious as it could be.
In his opinion, they came in the worst possible time. No employees of his were standing right next to the door to explain about the restaurant due to the lunch rush. Normally, someone would start talking with them and deescalate the situation, giving them an explanation about the restaurant.
Looking at how busy his employees were and how the situation could go south anytime now, Ludwig decided to act. "Bilo, take care of the Tempura and the Galbijjim too. I need to greet the new customer."
Without even looking at the new customer, Bilo answered firmly. "Yessir."
Putting the bowl filled with tempura batter down near the stove, Ludwig blinked out of the kitchen. Once he arrived beside the cloaked figures, he opened his mouth. Or at least, tried.
A punch flew out towards his throat before he could even utter a word.
Reflex kicked in before thought.
The fist cut through the air where his throat had been. Ludwig tilted his head just enough, his hand rising instinctively to catch the attacker's wrist mid-swing. The impact never came. For a moment, all sound in the restaurant seemed to narrow down to the soft clink of metal on wood from the kitchen.
He didn't squeeze. Didn't strike back. Just held.
"You hit fast," Ludwig said evenly, "but gentlemen, this place is no place for violence."
The man froze—then tensed again as his companions shifted into half-formed stances. Four cloaked figures, black hoods drawn low, faces hidden. A dangerous posture, but not the kind that came from malice. It was a habit.
"Easy there." Ludwig said, releasing the wrist and taking half a step back. "You're in a restaurant. Not a battlefield."
The one who'd attacked hesitated, then lowered his hands slightly. Another voice, a woman's, spoke up from behind him. "What kind of restaurant has such a… diverse set of customers."
Ludwig chuckled, trying to ease the four figures in front of him with it. "Well, a restaurant of mine. From what I know about Elos, they shouldn't have orcs and sentient goblins. Am I right?"
The figure who punched him earlier stood frozen for a heartbeat, but then he nodded.
"Those patrons of mine came from another world. Worlds beyond Elos. I myself didn't come from Elos." Ludwig explained, his tone even.
"What do you mean?" This time, rather than the man in the very front of the group, a feminine voice slithered to his ears.
Ludwig gave the source of the voice a serious look. "What I mean is, the door of this restaurant appeared in many worlds, yours is just one of them. To dine here, you put your fist on the door, because if you bring them inside, I'll kick you out."
The four glanced at each other beneath their hoods, the tension between them thinning just a little.
Ludwig continued before they could ask. "If you're looking for a reason to trust my words then perhaps a name will help. Claire Russell."
That made them freeze again, but for a different reason.
To be honest, he could have dropped more names on top of their heads. Ilea and Cless. The two men she brought to his restaurant back then? He couldn't remember their name. Maybe, they didn't even introduce their name to him.
In front of the name, one of them asked, voice low. "You know the Head Administrator?"
"She's a regular." Ludwig said simply. "Always orders whisky around dinnertime. If you're here, then you're her people. And if you're her people, that means you're professionals who don't need me to repeat myself twice."
The words weren't sharp, but they carried a finality that left no room for doubt.
Slowly, the group eased their posture, hands falling away from weapons and hidden blades.
"Good." Ludwig said, satisfied. "Now, find a table. You can keep your hoods if that helps you breathe easier. You'll find the food better than whatever world you came from today."
He turned slightly, raising his voice toward the kitchen. "Vilera table for four. Bring them tea, the light blend."
"Yes, Chef."
As he faced them again, the faintest trace of humor touched his lips. "And don't worry. You're not the first from your line of work to walk through that door. Claire was more tense than you her first time."
That earned him a flicker of reaction from one of the hoods, almost a laugh, stifled before it could escape.
He gestured toward an empty table by the wall. "Sit and eat. Whatever you think this place is, I promise it's simpler than that."
The man in front—tall, sharp-shouldered, the one who'd spoken—nodded once. "Understood. And… sorry for the swing."
"No apologies are needed," Ludwig said with an easy shrug. "It's a natural reaction. Just don't repeat it."
He turned, his clothes swaying slightly as he made his way back toward the kitchen. As he heard the creak of chairs, the soft thud of boots meeting wood, and the subtle exhale of caution fading into curiosity. He thought about what just happened.
It had been a while since he personally did the introduction. Ever since he got his employees, the responsibility of doing that fell on their laps. Ludwig was just there to offer support or catch hands being thrown at his employees.
But looking at it now, the words came easier to him, the delivery was also perfect, not overbearing but not too soft either. Way better than the time when Claire, Kushina, and Mianto walked into this place for the first time.
It seemed like his employees were not the only ones who had developed for the better. Even though his fighting power should still be the same as the time when he fought the Demon King, he still gained something valuable.
By the time he reached the stove again, the only thing left of the moment was the faint smell of sesame oil and the renewed rhythm of his work.
Another near-fight, another day.
If that was the glimpse of Claire's co-workers and more and more of them came here, it seemed like he'd have to start charging her for stress compensation.
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