The Chef x The Celebrity
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✨─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───✨
~ Date: June 26th – Interstellar Year 2422 ~
~ Location: Luna Bellflower Moon ~ Terra Anka PXD2422
~ The Golden Dragon Star Nexus Intergalactic Empire ~
✨─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───✨
🐦🔥 [ Phoenix ☯ POV ] 🐦🔥
The moment Phoenix turned away from the school gate, the warm little pocket of laughter he had stolen with Joon and the swim team began to thin beneath the pressure of time. He lengthened his stride toward the terminal road, one eye on the route markers and the other on the clock glowing across his communicator. The public airship to Cheraw was not impossible to catch yet, but it was close enough to make the universe feel personally rude.
The memory of the school-gate stares lingered longer than Phoenix wanted to admit. 'Of course it does,' Solaris said through the bond with the smug patience of a teacher repeating a lesson for the hundredth time. 'I told you that being a dominant omega is not as bad as you think. It has advantages if you are willing to use them. You could make this entire world easier to conquer.'
Phoenix did not stop walking, but his suspicion sharpened. 'Geez, Solaris. You make it sound like one giant immersive VR MMORPG.' His mental tone narrowed further. 'Calm your enthusiasm a little and tell me why you are so eager for me to embrace being an omega. No, a dominant omega.'
Solaris immediately wilted. 'I only want Mama to enjoy this life to its fullest and have an easier time completing this world than you have in the past. Did Solaris say something wrong?'
'No,' Phoenix replied after a beat, guilt pricking at him. 'You did not say anything wrong. I am just being temperamental. Maybe it is hormones. Maybe it is trauma. Maybe it is both wearing a trench coat and pretending to be one problem.'
'Yes, Mama Phoenix,' Solaris answered, sounding relieved enough that Phoenix almost felt bad for teasing him.
Phoenix glanced at the time glowing on his communicator and grimaced. 'Solaris, check whether the public airship to Cheraw is running on schedule today. Or, by some miracle, running a little late.'
'I hate being the bearer of bad news,' Solaris said carefully, 'but it is actually running two minutes ahead of schedule. Even if you keep running, you will not make it. The new pilot appears committed to maintaining his two-minutes-early timing today.' A tiny pause followed. 'I can always cause a delay.'
'As tempting as that sounds, I will be all right,' Phoenix replied. 'I will only miss accounting, and the original already finished the final paper for that class. All I would have done today is review it for revisions. Between my own knowledge and you, I can handle that easily tonight.'
'Valid point,' Solaris said. 'You also hate accounting, so I am certain you are not devastated by missing it. What will you do in the meantime? There will not be another public airship to Cheraw for two hours, which would make you late for your next class as well.'
As he headed toward the terminal road, the futuristic shine of the street only made the lack of real food feel more absurd. Holographic route signs shimmered above clean walkways, updating in real time as public airship schedules shifted across the district. Delivery drones slipped between glass-fronted towers, anti-gravity courier pods hummed along magnetic lanes overhead, and translucent ad-screens bloomed in the air with perfectly smiling models sipping nutrient packs as if joy came in standardized portions. Street-cleaning beetle bots clicked softly along the curb, polishing away dust before it had the chance to settle. Vending alcoves offered neat rows of nutri-loaf and nutri-jelly—also called nutri-shakes by people who preferred pretending the texture was not tragic. They were efficient all-in-one nutrition supplements, perfectly balanced, shelf-stable, and soulless. Real food stalls were rare. Proper restaurants were rarer still. In this era, cuisine dining had become a luxury reserved for the upper echelons of the Golden Dragon Star Nexus Intergalactic Empire, which explained far too much about this world's emotional damage.
'Then I will catch a cab,' Phoenix decided. 'It is not as if I lack the money. Speaking of which, start making investments for me if you have not already. I want funds ready for a family hover van, something personal for myself, and eventually a small private airship large enough for the whole family. Relying on public transport this much is inconvenient.'
'I already began the moment we entered this world,' Solaris replied, sounding far too pleased with himself. 'You already have enough funds for those purchases, plus enough to buy living space in the capital for when The Chef and The Celebrity films there.'
Phoenix's expression softened instantly. 'Aw, look at you being such a good, proactive boy for me. Thank you, Solaris. You are simply the best.' His mood brightened for exactly three seconds before another priority slammed into the front of his mind. 'Now, let's go get boba milk tea. I have been craving it since before we left the Nursery, and I got distracted before I could make some. You know I cannot function properly without my morning boba and milk tea. Most people need coffee. I need chewy pearls and sweet tea. At this point, I would not be surprised if tea ran through my veins instead of blood.'
Solaris went very quiet. Then, in the smallest voice imaginable, he said, 'Mama Nix… about that. In this world, there is no such thing as boba. Or milk tea. Or… tea.'
Phoenix stumbled to a stop. For a moment, his mind refused to process the sentence in any civilized language. 'Do what now? No boba is bad enough, but no tea? No. Absolutely not. There is no way I heard that correctly. Tell me straight, Solaris. Is this a new level of hell, and I only thought I broke free from imprisonment?'
'I am sorry, Mama,' Solaris said, sounding as if he wished he could hide behind his own wings. 'Tea was lost after humanity fled Earth, before the planet collapsed into something almost identical to Venus. There are plants across the empire that could work as tea, but that knowledge has not been recovered. The same is true for boba and tapioca. Cassava exists in modified forms, but no one here uses it that way.'
Phoenix inhaled, exhaled, and mentally righted the table he had very much wanted to flip. 'Fine. Then I will make my own. In fact, boba milk tea can become one of my signature drinks for The Chef and The Celebrity. This works in my favor, even if it is emotionally devastating in the meantime.' His thoughts swerved again. 'Do they at least have coffee? I can survive many things, but a caffeine-free society may be where I draw the line. Wait—I can get tea from the Nursery. Oh, my galaxies. Solaris, I love you even more now.'
'They do have coffee,' Solaris confirmed. 'And yes, Mama can retrieve tea plants from the Nursery. But you will need a believable explanation for where they came from until we can establish them properly in this world. I recommend keeping it subtle for now.'
'Good point. I was already thinking along those lines.' Phoenix's mind began arranging possibilities almost too quickly. 'We can move several tea plants into my private herbology nursery at home and fold them into the original's graduation thesis and project. I will do the same with cassava flour for tapioca. If it looks like I have spent years developing them, it will be much more believable when I introduce them on The Chef and The Celebrity.' A beat passed. 'Speaking of cassava flour, do they have tempura here? If not, that is going on the list too.'
'No, Mama,' Solaris said. 'They do not have tempura. They also do not have the BBQ you love so much. Smoking food here mostly happens as a byproduct of cooking over open firepits in poor rural outskirts where people lack access to proper nutrient systems. It is considered low class because the food is usually tough, unevenly cooked, under-seasoned, and overwhelmed by smoke. It is nothing like the BBQ Sir Draco taught you in your last life.'
The mention of BBQ pulled Phoenix into memory before he could stop it. Draco had called himself a pit master with the same pride another man might reserve for a noble title. Low and slow, never direct heat, he used to say, patient even when Phoenix grew frustrated with himself. Smoking meat properly took hours—sometimes more than eighteen—but Draco had treated every step like devotion rather than inconvenience.
Once Phoenix finally understood the rhythm of it, he loved it. He and Draco would spend entire days discussing wood combinations, spice layers, heat control, and the strange magic that happened when patience, smoke, fat, and fire were allowed to work together. The first time Phoenix tasted Draco's smoked brisket, he had made a sound so shameless that remembering it still embarrassed him. He had not cared then. The meat had been tender, juicy, rich with rendered fat, and balanced by a smoke ring that let the beef's own flavor shine through instead of burying it.
His favorite part had been the bark: dark, rough, almost burnt-looking, and packed with so much layered flavor that it felt like a crime. Draco had taught him which secrets could be shared and which belonged to the hands that earned them. That knowledge had been family inheritance where Draco came from, passed from one pit master to the next only when someone was deemed worthy.
Phoenix would bring BBQ into this world eventually. It would transform the Beyol restaurant, especially in an empire that had forgotten the difference between nourishment and food. But he would not give everything away at once. Draco had taught him too much, and Phoenix would protect those names, techniques, and memories as a quiet homage to the friend who had once stood beside him with smoke in his hair and patient warmth in his eyes.
Wherever Draco was now, Phoenix hoped he was doing well. His greatest regret from that life was realizing too late that Draco had been more than a friend. Best friend, brother, chosen family—whatever word fit, Draco had earned a place in his heart before Phoenix noticed the door had opened. The thought left a small, aching hollow beneath his ribs. He missed him. He missed him badly.
Phoenix shook himself before the memory could drag him any deeper. He still had caffeine to acquire, transportation to solve, and an entire day to survive. A quick search pulled up the nearest café, and he headed there before hailing a black hover cab.
The café was small, bright, and almost painfully modern, more accustomed to standardized coffee packs than personal drink orders. Phoenix still managed to talk the sweet beta owner through a caramel-hazelnut mocha frappe with extra whipped cream and both chocolate and caramel drizzle. She followed every instruction with the solemn focus of someone receiving forbidden culinary scripture, then stared at the finished drink as if it might change her life.
After one sip, it nearly did. She asked if she could make a second one for herself, and Phoenix agreed after securing her promise not to share the recipe. If she kept it secret, he promised to bring her two more coffee drink recipes later that she could serve as exclusives. The owner agreed so quickly Phoenix was fairly sure he could have negotiated ownership of the moon for half a recipe and a smile.
By the time she jokingly proposed marriage after her first proper taste, Phoenix was laughing again. He politely declined, promised to return, and filed the café owner away as someone worth remembering. Coffee drinks might not be boba, but they could still become useful—and delicious—stepping stones for the menu he planned to build for The Chef and The Celebrity.
When the black hover cab arrived, Phoenix waved to the café auntie, boarded, and confirmed his destination with the pilot. Once they lifted off, he leaned back against the seat and watched the city slide past the window while sipping his frappe like it was life force itself.
A black hover cab was a luxury the original could rarely afford. Unlike ordinary hover cars, these were built to convert for short orbital routes, letting wealthy passengers travel from street level to another moon without transferring through the public airship terminals. The pilot could take Phoenix all the way to Cheraw and drop him directly in front of the Culinary Arts College of Ozarka Tech University—Arts, Tech, and Agri—which made the expense more than worth it today.
Cheraw was the capital of Luna Fang Ping, the largest moon orbiting Terra Anka PXD2422. The name meant Beautiful Peaceful Moon, and while the commute was relatively quick by interstellar standards, it still required leaving one moon's local atmosphere and crossing to another. Ordinary hover cars could not manage that kind of travel. Phoenix made a mental note to look into patents or upgrades later. A personal vehicle capable of safe inter-moon travel would make a fortune and save his family a great deal of trouble.
He pulled a small bottle of anti-ADHD potion from his special ring and downed it in one shot, chasing the bitter, pungent taste with his frappe. Even after all this time, the flavor still made his soul reconsider its life choices, but the potion took effect within forty-five seconds, so he considered the suffering acceptable.
Luckily, he only had to take it once a week. He would have taken it daily if necessary, but he was grateful not to. It was difficult to explain how different his mind felt with the potion working: less like trying to catch ten falling knives while balancing on a rope, and more like finally having both feet on solid ground. If he had to choose one word for living with untreated ADHD, it would be exhausting.
Nix engaged privacy mode, sealing the passenger cabin from the cockpit and blocking all sight and sound from the pilot's side. The world narrowed to the soft hum of the hover cab, the faint sweetness of coffee on his tongue, and the sudden quiet settling through his thoughts.
Calm, quiet moments like this were rare for someone with ADHD, and thankfully Solaris understood that well. The little phoenix-dragon curled up on his lap without a word, tucked his head beneath Phoenix's hand, and simply existed there while Phoenix stroked his back and scratched his tiny head. Solaris's contented little expression said everything he did not voice. ... (=^-ω-^=) ... happy phoenix-dragon.
Before long, Solaris warned him that they were about to arrive and vanished from sight again. Once the cab landed, the pilot opened the door for him with practiced courtesy. Phoenix stepped out, turned back with a dazzling smile, bowed politely, and thanked the gentleman for the ride. The pilot flushed strawberry-red all the way to his ears before mumbling a farewell and departing for his next passenger.
Phoenix headed toward the library and test kitchen with a heart-stopping smile still on his lips and one urgent goal burning in his mind: make some dang boba. He was so immersed in daydreams of milk tea, chewy pearls, smoked meat, and future menus that he failed to notice the eyes that followed him until he disappeared inside the building.
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~ ✨~🐉~ ☯ ~🐦🔥~✨~