Two days had passed since Alaric's initial visit to the Crydias estate. The morning air was calm and fragrant with the scents of street food and flowering trees.
In the quiet corridor of the upper-class hotel they were staying in, a light knock fell upon Alaric's door.
It was Virellen.
She stood at the threshold with a subtle smile, dressed in her casual noblewear—simpler than her maid's garb, but still elegant in a mischievous, effortless way.
"My father requests your presence, Master,"
She said with a bow more playful than formal.
"He would like to finalize the restaurant deal today."
Alaric, who had just set down his notebook filled with measurements and fermentation ratios, nodded.
"Tell him to prepare a kitchen, and to make sure the ingredients are ready. I'll be cooking him a taste of what's to come."
He said.
Virellen's smile deepened.
"I'll let him know. Shall I mention the name of the dish?"
"No need,"
Alaric replied coolly.
"Let it be a surprise."
***
