A Curry Shop, Sector 9 – Linton Street, Hero City
Tucked into an alley so narrow it practically erased itself from the street, the curry shop existed more like an afterthought than a business. Its signboard was old-fashioned — no neon, no flair, just a single white bulb throwing dim yellow light onto faded painted letters.
No crowd. No queue. Just the smell of something warm and real drifting into the night air, confirming it was still open.
One customer. That was all.
An old woman had her hand slammed flat on the counter.
"You call this fair? Two GC for this? You're bleeding people dry for noodles."
Behind the counter, Lira didn't flinch. Her pink hair swayed faintly as she stirred the pot, voice soft but with no give in it.
"I'm charging what it costs me. Two GC is exactly what I spend to make that dish. I'm not even breaking even."
"Then you're a terrible businesswoman," the old woman scoffed.
She had the energy of someone who came for the argument, not the food.
