Crescent Town hadn't been this noisy in years.
Bards sang about "The Chef Who Defeated the Storm," merchants advertised "Ethan-style Stew" and "Crescent Moon Buns," and travelers came from as far as the capital just to peek inside the now-famous inn.
The front sign of Crescent Moon Inn gleamed in the morning light — polished so clean Luna could see her reflection.
Inside, the breakfast rush was already in full swing.
"Three herb omelets, one spicy bread roll!" Luna shouted.
"Coming!" Bruno called from behind the stove, flipping eggs with impressive precision.
Kiro dashed between tables, balancing trays bigger than him. "Excuse me! Careful, hot tea!"
Mina sprinkled a final dusting of star salt onto a tray of roasted vegetables. "Chef, seasoning batch ready!"
Ethan nodded, calm amidst the storm. "Good pace. Keep it steady."
Maris stood near the counter, skimming through the growing pile of letters. "You've got more mail than the mayor again."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Any good news?"
"Define 'good,'" she said, flipping through envelopes. "One's from a noble who wants to 'sponsor' you, another from a merchant asking to bottle your sauce, and this one—" she held up a gold-trimmed letter "—is from the Royal Court."
The room fell quiet. Even the sizzling stove seemed to pause.
Luna gasped. "It's real?"
Maris nodded. "Wax seal, royal crest. The invitation's official."
Ethan dried his hands and took the letter. The seal shimmered — a crescent sun intertwined with a flame. The symbol of the Royal Banquet of Dawn City.
He broke the seal.
> To Ethan of Crescent Moon Inn,
By order of the Royal Culinary Council and His Majesty's decree, you are invited to present your craft at the Royal Banquet, held in the Grand Hall of Dawn City in three weeks' time.
Prepare one signature dish representing the spirit of your home. Your attendance is not merely requested — it is honored.
— Royal Chamberlain Ardan Lorrain
Luna squealed. "Chef! You're going to cook for the King!"
Bruno whistled. "That's the biggest stage there is."
Mina's brow furrowed. "Also the most political. Every dish there is a statement."
Maris crossed her arms. "And every noble wants to claim the winning chef as their own. It's a battlefield, not a banquet."
Ethan read the letter twice, then folded it neatly. "Then we'll treat it like any other meal."
Luna blinked. "You're not nervous at all?"
He smiled. "Nervousness ruins taste."
---
By noon, the inn was overflowing with reporters and curious visitors.
A group of traveling journalists crowded near the counter.
"Chef Ethan! How does it feel to be the man who humbled Dawn City's prodigy?"
"Are you planning to open a restaurant in the capital?"
"What's your secret technique?"
Ethan kept his tone light. "There's no secret. Just listen to what the ingredients want."
They scribbled furiously, nodding like disciples.
Maris muttered, "Half the kingdom's press will quote that for weeks."
---
Behind the scenes, Luna and Kiro prepared lunch orders while Mina adjusted the spice ratios.
The team had grown into a synchronized dance — mistakes rare, laughter frequent.
Kiro looked up suddenly. "Chef? If you go to the capital… will you come back?"
Ethan turned, surprised by the question.
"Of course," he said gently. "This is home."
Luna smiled. "You're not allowed to leave us, anyway. Who else will taste-test my disasters?"
He chuckled. "I wouldn't dare."
---
That evening, after the crowd left, they all gathered for dinner at one of the tables — tired but content.
Bruno raised a mug. "To the Royal Banquet! Let's show those nobles what real food tastes like!"
Mina smirked. "And not just food that glows and levitates."
Maris poured herself tea. "We'll need new supplies, special ingredients, better utensils—"
Ethan interrupted softly. "We'll need nothing special."
They looked at him.
He smiled, watching the Infernal Stove's flame flicker gold. "We already have what matters — heart, rhythm, and time."
Luna leaned forward, eyes bright. "But Chef, you'll be competing with the best Spirit Chefs in the world! The King's personal cook is rumored to summon fire from dragon scales!"
Ethan stirred his tea, calm as ever. "Then I'll just remind him that food isn't made of dragons. It's made of people."
The table fell silent for a moment.
Then Bruno grinned. "That's so deep I almost feel bad for the dragon guy."
Luna burst out laughing. "We're totally winning this!"
---
Outside, the town was quiet. Lanterns flickered, and a cool breeze carried the smell of herbs from the kitchen window.
From across the street, a figure in a hooded cloak watched the inn — a woman's silhouette, elegant and still.
Selene.
She whispered into her communicator, "He accepted the invitation."
A calm voice answered, "Good. Then the banquet will decide everything."
Selene's expression softened. "He's not ready for your world."
"Then he will either rise with it… or be consumed by it."
The line went dead.
Selene looked toward the glowing windows of the inn, where laughter echoed faintly.
Her hand tightened on the railing. "Don't lose that light, Ethan."
---
Inside, Ethan cleaned the counters one last time.
He glanced at the sealed royal letter again — now resting beside his knife set.
The Infernal Stove's golden flame swayed, reflecting in his eyes.
He whispered, "A banquet, huh? Guess we'll need a new recipe."
The flame pulsed softly — like agreement.
And somewhere in the distance, the wind carried the scent of spices from the capital — calling him forward.
To be continued...