The clink of crystal glasses and the soft hum of a live jazz band filled the air. The restaurant, The Aurelia, was unlike anything Jason had ever stepped into—gold-trimmed chandeliers, marble floors that reflected the glow of candlelight, and polished tables set with utensils that looked like they cost more than his entire workshop's tool kit.
Jason sat across from Mariana and Elena, stiff in his chair, his rough mechanic's hands brushing against the soft velvet napkin. He wasn't used to this world of quiet elegance and millionaires who treated a meal like a crown jewel.
The waiter approached with a bow. "Madam Mariana, welcome back. Shall I bring your usual?"
"Yes," Mariana said without hesitation, her voice sharp with the confidence of someone who belonged here. "And bring us your 1996 Château Margaux. Decant it."
The waiter nodded and left. Moments later, he returned carrying a tall, slim bottle encased in a cradle. He uncorked it with a practiced hand, tilting the bottle so the deep crimson liquid cascaded into their crystal glasses.
Jason lifted his glass, not to drink, but to inspect. The system flickered to life in his vision.
[Analyzing Substance...]
Result: 75% Alcohol Content | High Vintage Wine | Not recommended for host body condition.
Jason smirked inwardly. Figures. He placed the glass down without sipping.
Mariana caught it immediately. "You don't drink anymore?"
Jason leaned back, shrugging. "Not unless motor oil counts."
That earned a sharp laugh from Mariana and even a giggle from Elena, soft and quick like she wasn't used to laughing out loud in public.
Jason turned his gaze toward Elena. She was quieter than her sister, her beauty less dazzling in its boldness and more in its subtlety. A gentle grace. Her long lashes fluttered when she avoided his eyes, and she held the stem of her glass as though unsure what to do with it.
He cleared his throat. "So, Elena. How long have you been abroad?"
Her eyes lit up, as if she had been waiting for him to ask. "Oh, um… almost five years," she said with a shy smile. "I was at Harvard. I just graduated. Business and economics. It was… intense, but worth it."
Jason leaned forward, nodding. "Harvard? No wonder you sound smarter than all of us combined."
She laughed nervously. "I don't know about that."
"But why abroad?" Jason pressed gently. "I mean, someone like you—could've studied anywhere, right?"
Elena's fingers played with the rim of her glass. "I always wanted to see the world. I wanted to learn how things worked… and to come back home with something valuable. But—" she glanced down, then smiled faintly. "Honestly, I just missed home. I missed the people. So I came back two days ago."
Jason smiled at her honesty. "Makes sense. Sometimes it's the simplest things we miss the most. The smell of home cooking. The way the air feels. Even the chaos."
Mariana rolled her eyes playfully. "Chaos? That's just an excuse for poor management."
Jason chuckled. "Or maybe it's what keeps life interesting."
Just then, the waiters arrived carrying silver domes. They lifted them in unison, releasing a wave of fragrance that hit Jason instantly—herbs, spices, slow-roasted meats, and sauces rich with history.
Jason leaned closer to his plate. The system flashed again:
[Analyzing Dish...]
Dish: Coq au Vin | Origin: Burgundy, France | Wine-braised chicken with mushrooms, onions, and garlic.
Without realizing it, Jason muttered, "Coq au Vin… French, Burgundy region."
The waiter's face lit up. "Correct, sir. Very impressive."
Jason blinked, caught off guard.
Mariana smirked, raising an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you know that?"
Jason smirked back, trying to defuse the moment. "What can I say? My stomach has a degree in international cuisine."
The waiter chuckled politely, Elena giggled behind her hand, and Mariana shook her head, laughing. "You are something else, Jason."
Jason raised his fork. "Something else or someone else?"
Mariana tilted her head, her eyes glinting. "Maybe both."
They started eating, the flavors bursting across Jason's tongue. He wasn't used to meals like this, but the system broke down every taste into components, flashing details in his head about herbs and wine reductions. Still, he shut it off. He didn't want science. He wanted to taste.
The conversation flowed. Elena, with her shy sweetness, told him about how lonely it sometimes felt in the U.S., surrounded by people but never truly connected. Jason listened carefully, nodding, occasionally cracking a joke that made her blush and smile.
Mariana, however, was more direct. "You didn't answer my calls, Jason," she said suddenly, her tone both accusing and playful.
Jason sipped his water slowly, avoiding her gaze. "I've been busy."
"Busy ignoring me?"
"Busy working. Training. Surviving. Take your pick."
Mariana leaned forward, her smile daring. "And here I thought you were avoiding me because you couldn't resist."
Jason gave her a crooked grin. "If I was avoiding you, trust me—you'd know."
Elena nearly choked on her food, stifling a laugh. Mariana rolled her eyes but smiled.
"So," Jason asked, setting down his fork, "is this what you do every day? Luxury wine, five-star meals, million-dollar conversations?"
Mariana smirked. "Why? Does it bother you?"
"Not at all," Jason said. "Just makes me wonder if everything is always luxury with you."
Mariana's smile softened slightly. "Not everything. Sometimes luxury is just a mask. Sometimes it's just noise to drown out the silence."
Jason studied her quietly. There was something raw beneath her polished exterior, something he hadn't noticed before.
Elena looked between them, her eyes curious but quiet, as though storing every word away.
Jason finally leaned back, breaking the tension. "Well, for what it's worth, this meal beats instant noodles."
Both sisters laughed—Mariana with her confident, ringing laugh, and Elena with her soft, shy giggle.
For the first time in a long time, Jason felt at ease. Not because of the luxury, not because of the wine or chandeliers—but because he realized something simple.
Even in a world of wealth, connection still mattered more.