Morning sunlight slipped through the inn's curtains, painting gold streaks across the wooden floor. The smell of baking bread drifted through the halls, mixing with fresh herbs and butter.
Luna rushed through the kitchen door, hair messy, apron half-tied. "Chef! The line outside— it's already forming!"
Ethan flipped a pancake with an easy motion. "Then we'll give them breakfast worth waiting for."
Maris leaned by the counter, scanning the crowd from the window. "I counted thirty people before sunrise. Word travels fast."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Good food's faster."
He poured another ladle of batter onto the pan, calm and focused. The Infernal Stove's flame burned steady and gentle — a soft blue, no longer wild, almost domestic.
The inn buzzed with happy chaos: locals chatting, travelers unpacking, plates clinking, laughter echoing. For the first time, Crescent Moon Inn felt alive.
---
Around mid-morning, the door opened quietly.
A woman stepped inside — tall, graceful, wearing a simple grey cloak. Her eyes were the color of tempered steel, calm and unreadable. A faint pendant gleamed beneath her collar — the emblem of a traveler's guild, though Maris noticed the engraving didn't match any common branch.
Luna greeted her cheerfully. "Welcome to Crescent Moon Inn! Table for one?"
The woman nodded. "Yes. And some tea, please."
Her voice was even — polite, but with a weight that made people listen.
Luna seated her near the window. "Chef! New customer — traveler type!"
Ethan glanced up. "Got it. What's she having?"
"She just said tea. Oh— and maybe something light?"
He nodded, thoughtful. "Let's make her something warm. Something that talks without words."
---
He started preparing a small set — Spirit-infused bread rolls with sunleaf butter and honey-glazed root chips.
Nothing extravagant. Just simple ingredients elevated by care.
As he worked, the woman's gaze followed him quietly. Her expression never changed, but her fingers drummed faintly on the table — steady rhythm, like counting seconds.
Maris leaned toward Luna. "That one's not just a traveler."
Luna whispered, "What do you mean?"
"Posture. She's observing patterns. Probably military or… something higher."
Ethan's voice broke their whispering. "Focus on the food, not the mystery."
He plated the dish and placed it on a tray himself.
---
When he reached her table, he set it down gently.
"Warm rolls, sunleaf butter, and honey roots. Tea's jasmine with a touch of frostvine — balances the sweetness."
She nodded, studying the meal before touching it. "You're Ethan."
He paused, but smiled. "Word travels."
"It does. Your tournament was… impressive."
Ethan shrugged lightly. "Just cooking."
She tore a piece of bread, dipping it in the butter. The crust crackled softly — then silence as she tasted it.
Her eyes flickered, just a little. "Soft texture. Subtle spirit essence. Not forced."
"Spirit essence doesn't like force," he said simply.
"Most chefs forget that," she replied, sipping the tea. "They chase power. You chase harmony."
He tilted his head. "You sound like someone who's tasted a lot."
"Too much," she said, a faint smile ghosting her lips. "And too little that mattered."
---
The quiet stretched comfortably. The other guests' chatter filled the air, but around their table, there was peace — the kind born from mutual understanding.
Finally, she spoke again. "Tell me, Ethan. If someone offered you a chance to cook for the greatest kitchens in the continent… would you go?"
He looked down at the tea, then at the bustling inn around him — Luna laughing with customers, Maris rolling her eyes but smiling anyway, sunlight dancing through steam.
"No," he said finally. "I already have the best kitchen."
Her gaze softened slightly — the faintest crack in her composure. "I thought you might say that."
She reached into her cloak and placed a small sealed envelope on the table. The wax bore the symbol of the Spirit Guild.
Luna nearly dropped a tray across the room. Maris froze mid-step.
Ethan didn't even blink. "You're not really a traveler."
"No," she said, standing. "Name's Selene. Spirit Guild Evaluation Division. That's an invitation, not a demand. For now."
He looked at the envelope but didn't touch it. "What if I don't open it?"
"Then someone else will. And they'll come knocking eventually."
Her voice wasn't threatening — just factual.
She turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Your food speaks softly. But people who whisper too well tend to attract those who shout."
Then she was gone.
---
The inn was silent for a few long seconds.
Then Luna exhaled loudly. "She was so scary."
Maris crossed her arms. "Spirit Guild's already watching us. That didn't take long."
Ethan looked at the envelope again. The seal shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
He smiled quietly. "Let them watch. I'll still cook the same way."
Luna frowned. "You're not curious what's inside?"
He shook his head. "Later. Right now, we've got hungry people waiting."
She blinked — then laughed. "Of course we do."
And just like that, the rhythm returned.
Plates clattered, laughter rose again, and the smell of baking filled the air.
Outside, Selene paused on the cobblestone path, holding a small notebook.
She wrote one line before closing it:
"Ethan — authenticity confirmed. Potential: immeasurable."
Then she smiled faintly and disappeared into the crowd.
To be continued...