Chapter 48: The Unshackled Mage of Demacia
As soon as Ren came down from the second floor, having tucked in the Queen of Hell and the Guardian Hound, he was stunned. The interdimensional door, usually a simple wooden entrance with a bell, began to emit a soft, pulsating light as he descended the stairs.
Ren knew this phenomenon well. It signaled the arrival of a guest from Another World. He paused on the last step, smoothing his apron, ready to welcome a new patron.
However, the door remained lit for a long time—one minute, two minutes—without anyone entering. The handle didn't turn. The bell didn't chime. The light just pulsed rhythmically like a heartbeat before slowly fading away.
Ren was slightly taken aback. He walked over to the door and checked it. Locked.
"So guests could choose not to enter?" he mused aloud. "Or perhaps they hesitated at the threshold? That was really quite intriguing."
Ren shook his head, dismissing the thought. The system of the Dimensional Restaurant was mysterious, even to him. He sat back in his seat behind the counter and continued reading.
No other guests came until almost midnight. The usual rush of hungry souls seemed to have taken a break tonight. Ren didn't mind; instead, he enjoyed the rare peace and relaxation here. The silence was a luxury.
"Hmm... This is truly a rare moment of relaxation. But this novel is really good. I just wonder if Lucifer can accept this book now..."
Ren said, placing the hardcover volume of The Seven Deadly Sins - Pride Arc aside on the counter. He had been reading this book for several days and had finally finished it. The irony of reading about Pride while living with the avatar of Pride was not lost on him.
Just as Ren was about to reach under the counter to take out the next book in the series, he paused.
The previously dim door lit up again.
The light was different this time—harsher, more urgent.
"Eh? Who is it this time~"
As soon as he finished speaking, the door was suddenly pushed open with a violent force.
Bang!
The bell jingled frantically. A gust of cold, damp air rushed into the warm restaurant.
A man walked in.
He was a striking figure, to say the least. He was shirtless, his muscular torso exposed and marred by grime and scars. He wore only a pair of ragged, dark purple pants that had seen better days. But the most defining feature was the heavy, petricite chains wrapped around both his wrists, trailing behind him like metallic snakes. His dark hair was long and unkempt, framing a face that was handsome but twisted with a mix of manic energy and deep-seated bitterness.
After the man walked in, the door closed softly behind him, cutting off the cold wind.
The man looked around the Restaurant, his eyes wide with disbelief. He took in the warm lights, the clean wooden tables, the smell of spices.
Then he smiled, a wild, broken smile, and shouted, "I'm finally out! Freedom!"
He took two eager steps toward Ren, his arms raised in triumph.
Clank. Drag.
The familiar, hateful sound of chains scraping against the floor stopped him cold.
The man froze. He turned his head slowly, looking down at his wrists. The heavy manacles were still there. The petricite still hummed with its dampening aura.
His shoulders slumped. The manic joy evaporated instantly, replaced by a crushing disappointment.
"Still... bound," he whispered.
Ren watched him quietly from behind the counter. He saw the despair. He cleared his throat softly.
"Sir, do you need anything to eat?"
The man looked up at Ren, startled by the voice. He looked at the Restaurant again, as if trying to understand if this was a hallucination induced by solitary confinement.
"Is this... a Restaurant?" he asked, his voice raspy.
Ren nodded. "The Dimensional Restaurant. We serve all who find the door."
The man chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. He lifted his chained hands slightly. "You see this? I'm a prisoner. I don't have money to eat in this state. I don't have a single coin to my name. So you'd better not waste your time..."
Ren shook his head, his expression gentle. "I can tell you're down on your luck, but I can also see your desire for freedom burning in your eyes. This indicates you're a person with a story. In this place, currency is not the only way to pay. If your story is exciting enough, it's worth a meal~"
The man was startled. He looked at Ren suspiciously, searching for a trap. Finding none in Ren's calm gaze, he walked over to the nearest stool and sat down heavily.
"You're the second person I've met who talks to me like this," the man said with a wry smile. "This definitely isn't a Demacia prison. The Mageseekers don't offer meals for stories. Otherwise, you'd know what's on my hands. These are Petricite—anti-magic stone."
Ren smiled and leaned on the counter. "Of course it's not your Demacia. This is Another World. But from your appearance, it seems there are still things you must do in your world, which is why the chains that originally bound you are still connected to you physically, even if your spirit has wandered here."
The man was silent for a while, processing the concept of 'Another World'. Then he nodded slowly.
"I think you're right. But this place... it is much more comfortable than a cell. Let me introduce myself. My name is Sylas. I am a prisoner. A mage. A monster, according to them."
Ren nodded respectfully. "I can tell you're a little unwilling to accept those titles?"
Sylas's eyes flashed with anger. "Yes… unwilling… They used my power! They used me to hunt my own kind! And when I realized the hypocrisy... when I tried to protect a child... they turned around and imprisoned me as a heretic! Fifteen years in a dark pit, eating rats, ready to be executed at any time for a 'crime' of being born with magic!"
Ren nodded, listening intently. He then turned and walked towards the kitchen without a word.
Sylas paused mid-rant. He blinked. "Hey! Where are you going? Was my story too boring for you?"
Ren stopped, turned around, and smiled at Sylas. "On the contrary. That sounds like a very interesting, albeit tragic, story. It has conflict, betrayal, and a quest for justice. I need to prepare a dish whose price is equivalent to your story now. Please wait a moment."
Sylas was startled. He looked at Ren's back as the chef entered the kitchen.
"You are a strange person," Sylas muttered. "What's your name? You look much more pleasant than those brutes in Demacia. You have a noble-like aura, but without the arrogance."
Ren poked his head out. "I'm not a noble, just a Restaurant owner. By the way, let me introduce myself. I am Ren."
After speaking, Ren returned to the kitchen to start cooking. The sound of water boiling and a knife chopping soon filled the silence.
Sylas looked around the warm and bright shop again. This place was completely different from the prison he lived in. The soft seats were heaven compared to the damp stone floor. The air didn't smell of mildew and despair.
"Ren…" Sylas whispered, testing the name. "As expected, it's not a Demacian name. Sounds Ionian. This truly is Another World."
As Sylas spoke, he looked at the chains on his hands, a hint of deep resentment flashing in his eyes.
If I can get out... If I can escape this stone prison... I will burn it all down. I will shatter the monarchy. I will liberate the mages. I will never forgive that country, rotting from the top down!
While he was pondering his revenge, a steaming ceramic cup suddenly appeared on the counter in front of him.
Sylas was startled and looked up at Ren, who had returned silently.
Ren smiled and said, "I can tell your mental state isn't very good. Too much anger, too much tension. So, I've prepared a cup of tea for you first. It can help calm your mind before the meal."
Sylas stared at the cup. He reached out with trembling, chained hands. When his fingers brushed the ceramic, the warmth surprised him. This temperature reminded him of sunlight, which he hadn't bathed in for a long time.
He picked up the teacup, cupping it in both hands to steal its heat.
Sylas sniffed it. A complex, floral scent he had never encountered before entered his nostrils, bypassing the smell of the prison that clung to him and invigorating his spirit.
"Hmm… what a sweet and fragrant taste…"
Sylas took a small, tentative sip.
The warm liquid flowed down his throat, and he felt his whole body's tense nerves—which had been coiled tight for fifteen years—slowly relax. The faint floral scent, a hint of mellow earthiness, and a touch of citrus zest...
"Hah..." Sylas exhaled a long breath, his eyes closing.
The lingering sweet aftertaste in his mouth made Sylas feel an unprecedented sense of peace. For a moment, the chains felt lighter.
Sylas looked at the slightly reddish tea in the cup. "I really wonder if those who consider themselves noble—who drink wine from gold goblets—would feel like they used to drink sewage if they had a cup of tea like this."
Ren chuckled. "That would be too much of a compliment. It's just tea."
"Oh… Ren… This tea is very good. What is it brewed with? I can taste many flavors. It's not just one leaf."
Ren smiled and explained, pointing to the ingredients on the counter. "This is Lavender Tea. I added some dried rose petals and a little lemon peel. The effect is specific: the roses help regulate your Qi and nourish your liver, which processes anger. The lavender relaxes your nerves, relieves stress, and soothes your body and mind. And as for the lemon peel, it just enhances the taste and helps stimulate your appetite for the main course."
Sylas nodded slowly. "Although I haven't heard of 'Qi' or 'Lavender', I can tell they are powerful. This is a drink that even the Emperor of Demacia would envy."
Ren thought for a moment and quipped, "Then let's wait for that King of Demacia to come in person. But that's probably not very realistic, is it?"
Sylas snorted. "Of course not. Jarvan? If he saw this door, he might point at it and shout 'Magic!' then call the Mageseekers to smash it."
Ren smiled wryly. "That truly is a country unfriendly to mages."
"Unfriendly is an understatement. It is a graveyard for us," Sylas said bitterly. Then he paused. "Wait. You said 'mages'? You know of mages? You don't fear them?"
Ren nodded calmly. "Of course. Just like you, many interesting guests come to my shop. Magic is just another skill here. Last night, someone who could use powerful magic—the Queen of Hell, actually—was sitting right there crying over spicy tofu. And there was also a young man who could see spirits. They are all very interesting people."
Sylas's eyes widened. "The Queen of Hell? Spirits? And you served them?"
He looked at Ren with newfound respect and a hint of envy. "They certainly aren't wearing chains like me, are they?"
"No," Ren admitted. "Their lives are good. In the world of another gentleman who comes here—a Cardcaptor—although many people can use magic, most live peacefully. He lives very well."
Sylas chuckled, a sound mixed with longing. "That's really not bad… Free mages… A world where magic isn't a sin… By the way, Boss, how does one come to your place? Can I come back?"
"The door appears to those who need it, or those who have been here before. Guests can come whenever they want once they have the connection. And they can bring friends along."
Sylas smiled, a complex expression on his face. "Do I look like someone who has friends? I have only enemies and victims."
He paused, looking down at his tea. A soft expression, one Ren hadn't seen yet, crossed his face.
"Hey… actually… I think I really can bring a customer. But she might not believe me. When I have a chance, I'll persuade her. Because she will also need your shop, Ren. She is the only light in my darkness. She is also my last good feeling and conscience towards that rotten country…"
Ren nodded. "Always welcome. This place welcomes every customer, and especially every customer with a story."
"Of course," Sylas laughed softly. "Her stories are so numerous they could give me a headache—she talks a lot—but they're very good… and they have the same effect as your tea. Calming. Illuminating. When she comes, I'll have money for food. She's a noble, after all."
"Is that so? She sounds like a customer with good economic conditions."
"Oh, yes. She's a Crownguard. They have plenty of gold. But she has a heavy heart. Perhaps your tea can help her too."
Ren smiled. "I look forward to meeting her. Now, let me finish your meal. A revolutionary cannot march on an empty stomach."
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