Chapter 25: The Flag in the Stars
Grokemon's POV – Merchant's Row, Leonora
Host mood: 92% Joy (Warning: This is suspiciously high).
Financial Status: Leeching off the Bunny-kin.
Objective: Gastronomic Colonization.
Saferu was walking with a spring in his step that usually only happens when he's running away from a Tier-4 Echo. Beside him, Mirae was trying to maintain her dignified "Royal Guard" posture, but the way her nose kept twitching toward the smell of grilled meat was a dead giveaway.
"You know, host," I chimed in, projecting my voice into his auditory nerve. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a date. A human 'Fool' and a high-ranking Rabbit-kin warrior walking the boardwalk at sunset... it's practically a rom-com. Should I start playing some light jazz?"
Saferu nearly tripped over his own feet. "Grok, shut up!"
Mirae looked over, her ears swiveling. "What did your invisible spirit say?"
"He... uh... he said it's a nice evening," Saferu stammered, his face turning a shade of red that matched the setting sun.
Saferu repeated the joke, and to my surprise, Mirae didn't reach for her sword. Instead, she let out a soft, shy laugh, her whiskers trembling. "A date? You humans have such strange ideas. But... I suppose the company isn't entirely terrible."
Before Saferu could fumble a response, he froze. His eyes locked onto a small, two-story building tucked between a Magitech repair shop and a feline armory.
Hanging from the second-floor balcony was a piece of weathered cloth. It was divided into blue and red horizontal bands, with a white triangle on the left housing a yellow sun and three stars.
"No way," Saferu breathed. "Is that...?"
"Analyzing..." I pulsed a scan. "Blue: Justice. Red: Courage. Sun: Liberty. Host, that is the National Flag of the Philippines. My database suggests that Pinoy blood is apparently capable of surviving not just the Pacific Ocean, but an entire interdimensional displacement just to open a small business. They really are everywhere."
Saferu didn't wait. He grabbed Mirae's hand and practically dragged her toward the entrance.
"Wait! Saferu!" Mirae stumbled after him, a look of realization crossing her face as she checked her coin purse. She saw the nostalgic, desperate glow in his eyes—the look of a man who had finally found a piece of a shattered mirror. She sighed, her expression softening. "Fine. But I'm the one paying, so try not to order the entire menu."
The moment they stepped through the door, the sound of the Lion Kingdom's bustling streets faded, replaced by the rhythmic clatter of wooden spoons and the scent of sautéed garlic and shrimp paste. The interior was decorated with bamboo-like wood and capiz-shell lanterns that glowed with soft mana.
Saferu felt a lump in his throat. For the first time since waking up in that 'Blue Room,' he felt like he wasn't an alien.
A waiter approached. He was a young man with tanned skin and dark hair, looking remarkably human. Saferu's heart leaped.
"Magandang gabi!" Saferu blurted out, his voice thick with hope. "Ikaw ba ay... are you from the islands?"
The waiter blinked, a look of polite confusion on his face. "I'm sorry, traveler? I don't recognize that dialect. Are you looking for a table for two?"
The light in Saferu's eyes dimmed slightly. "Calibration error, host," I whispered. "His accent is local. No traces of Tagalog or regional dialects."
"Oh... right," Saferu sat down, deflated. "Is the owner here?"
"Our matriarch is in the kitchen," the waiter explained. "But to answer your question, we are just descendants. The 'First Fool' of our house arrived here over a hundred years ago. Most of the original language was lost to time, but the recipes... the recipes are sacred."
The disappointment was sharp, but it vanished as Saferu looked at the menu. It was written in the common beastman tongue, but the names were unmistakable: Bicol Express, Lechon, Pancit, Adobo.
"I want this, this, this... and two of those," Saferu said, shamelessly pointing at everything that involved pork and coconut milk.
Mirae looked at the prices—which were high due to the rarity of the ingredients—and started sweating. Her ears wilted. "Saferu, that is enough food to feed a squad of Royal Guards!"
"Don't worry," a voice called out from the back.
A woman stepped out. She wasn't human. She was a cat-kin from the Calico tribe, with patches of orange, black, and white fur, but she wore a traditional Filipiniana-style apron over her dress. She walked with a grace that suggested she was the boss of this domain.
"It's on the house," she said, her golden eyes twinkling as she looked at Saferu. "I sensed a new Fool had entered the city, but I didn't expect one of my own 'ancestral' kin. I am Madam Luningning, third-generation owner of The Pearl of the Sea."
"You're a cat-kin?" Saferu asked, bewildered.
"My grandfather was the Fool," she laughed. "He married a local cat-kin woman. Our blood is mixed now, but our stomachs still remember the islands. It's rare to meet a 'Fresh Fool' who knows the old names of the dishes."
As the food arrived, the table groaned under the weight. The Lechon was crispy, the skin crackling with a sound that made Mirae's predatory instincts sharpen. The Bicol Express was a vibrant green, the scent of chili and coconut milk filling the air.
Saferu took a bite of the Lechon and nearly wept. He spent the next hour talking—not about prophecies, or kings, or the Queen of the Forest—but about the culture. He told Madam Luningning about the festivals, the jeepneys, and the heat of the Manila sun. He explained the nuances of the flavors she was cooking, helping her refine the 'Bicol Express' by suggesting a bit more ginger.
Mirae watched them, her initial panic over the bill replaced by a quiet curiosity. She watched Saferu transform from a terrified, lying survivor into a passionate teacher.
"You seem so different when you talk about this," Mirae said, nibbling on a piece of Pancit. "You don't look like a 'Fool' right now. You just look like... a person."
Saferu paused, a piece of Lechon halfway to his mouth. "In my world, I wasn't anyone special, Mirae. But this food? This culture? It's the only thing that proves I actually existed before I came here."
I stayed silent for once, recording the data.
Chapter 25 Log:
Host has achieved a 'Cultural Anchor.'
Mental stability: 100%.
Current status: Full, happy, and dangerously relaxed.
As the night deepened, the little restaurant in the heart of the Lion Kingdom felt like a sanctuary. But outside, the golden lights of the palace still loomed, a reminder that tomorrow, the King would demand his due.
"Enjoy the Lechon, host," I whispered. "Because the Lion King's teeth are a lot sharper than that pork skin."