The restaurant was far too elegant.
Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead. Soft instrumental music flowed through the air, gentle enough to make Ren feel like he should apologize just for breathing too loudly. The tables were polished marble. The cutlery looked ceremonial.
Ren sat rigidly upright, hands folded in his lap like a child at a formal dinner. "This place…" he muttered. "I think the chairs cost more than my entire life."
Akira sat across from him, posture relaxed but alert, eyes quietly scanning the room out of habit. He'd already clocked the exits, the staff, the other patrons.
Ayla sat beside Ren, composed as ever, gaze drifting across the room with calm curiosity rather than fear.
The Misokke twins sat together beside kaito, perfectly still, backs straight, hands resting symmetrically on the table. They didn't move. They didn't speak. They looked like ceremonial guardians mistakenly placed in a luxury restaurant.
Across from the rookies sat Senior Squad.
And they looked entirely too comfortable.
Ryou Kanzaki leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes half-lidded like this was just another briefing room. Jin sat beside him, rifle case resting neatly against his leg, posture straight, attention split between the room and the table. Fumika adjusted her gloves with practiced precision, already displeased by something only she noticed.
Misaki was grinning.
Recon and Flank were whispering to each other, already vibrating with bad ideas.
Ren swallowed. "So… uh… are we allowed to be here?"
Misaki smirked. "Relax. We saved a district last month. This is basically hazard pay."
Kaito adjusted his glasses, eyes flicking between menu prices. "Statistically, this establishment exceeds our allocated meal budget by a factor of—"
"—Don't finish that sentence," Flank said cheerfully.
A waiter approached, posture flawless, voice smooth.
"May I take your order?"
Ryou didn't even glance at the menu.
"Everything."
The waiter blinked. "I'm… sorry?"
"Everything," Misaki repeated, already handing the menu back. "Surprise us."
The waiter hesitated, then nodded with the strained smile of a man questioning his career choices.
As he walked away, Ren leaned toward Akira and whispered, "We're going to die here, aren't we?"
Akira replied quietly, "Probably financially."
Ayla tilted her head. "Isn't this… extremely expensive?"
Recon waved dismissively. "Only if you lose."
Kaito frowned. "Lose… what?"
The food arrived in waves.
Plates stacked atop plates. Steam curled upward. Rich aromas filled the table—meat, noodles, sauces, desserts that probably had names longer than Ren's medical records.
For three seconds—
There was peace.
Then Recon suddenly stood up, slammed both hands on the table, and shouted:
"LAST TO FINISH PAYS!"
Silence.
Then—
Chaos.
Chairs screeched backward. Forks clashed like weapons. The senior squad exploded into motion.
Misaki attacked her plate like it had personally offended her. Recon shoveled food with terrifying enthusiasm. Flank matched him bite for bite, sauce already smeared across his cheek. Jin ate fast but precise, like even this was a mission. Fumika sighed once, then joined in with controlled efficiency. Ryou didn't rush—but somehow kept pace anyway.
Food flew. A drink tipped and shattered. Sauce splattered across the table.
A steak slid off a plate and narrowly missed a horrified civilian two tables away.
Every other diner in the restaurant stared in collective disbelief.
Ren froze mid-bite, fork trembling.
"…Is this normal?" he asked weakly.
Ayla stared, eyes wide. " Why did i agreed to come."
Akira hesitated for half a second.
Then one of the Misokke twins calmly picked up their fork.
The other followed.
Perfect synchronization.
No words.
Ren panicked. "WAIT—YOU'RE JOINING TOO?!"
"I am not paying for this," Ren declared desperately—and lunged in.
Kaito sighed, adjusted his glasses, and muttered, "This is irrational."
Then joined anyway.
The table became a battlefield.
Only Ayla didn't move.
She sat calmly, cutting her food into neat pieces, taking small, dignified bites as the chaos unfolded around her. Her eyes flicked briefly to the surrounding customers—some horrified, some filming, one actively reconsidering their existence.
Misaki glanced at her mid-chew. "You're not eating?"
Ayla smiled politely. "I already lost the moment I sat down."
Minutes later, it was over.
Plates scraped clean. Bodies slumped. Souls visibly damaged.
Recon wiped his mouth dramatically. "Victory."
Ren collapsed forward, forehead hitting the table. "I think my soul left my body."
Akira exhaled slowly, setting his fork down. "…Never again."
Ayla quietly raised her hand.
The waiter approached with the expression of someone who had survived a disaster.
The bill arrived.
It was enormous.
Ayla glanced at it once.
Then paid.
No hesitation.
No reaction.
The seniors stared.
"…You didn't have to actually pay," Flank said slowly.
Ayla smiled sweetly. "Then don't make rules you can't survive."
Before anyone could respond—
Ren's device buzzed.
Then Akira's.
Then everyone's.
A single message lit up the screens.
VIRAN:
All squads. Report to base office immediately.
The laughter vanished.
Ryou stood first, expression sharpening instantly.
"Looks like lunch is over."
Misaki cracked her neck. "Shame. I was just getting warmed up."
Akira rose with the others, a familiar tightness settling in his chest.
Whatever waited back at the base—
This time—
It wasn't a joke.