The Chef x The Celebrity
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✨─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───✨
~ Date: June 26th – Interstellar Year 2422 ~
~ Location: Moonlight Pavilion / The Beyol Residence & Restaurant ~
~ Luna Bellflower Moon, Terra Anka PXD2422 ~
~ The Golden Dragon Star Nexus Intergalactic Empire ~
✨─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───✨
🐦🔥 [ Phoenix ☯ POV ] 🐦🔥
As expected, both boys loved their first ride in a black hover cab.
Joon tried to look composed for all of fifteen seconds before leaning toward the window with bright eyes, pointing out every feature he noticed. Woo-Young was quieter, but the way his gaze kept moving over the cabin's smooth interior, privacy glass, and soft anti-gravity stabilizers gave him away. Every time the cab adjusted altitude without even a tremor, his lips parted slightly, as if he had not meant to be impressed but could not help himself.
Nix watched them with his chin propped on one hand, warmth spreading through his chest. He was going to enjoy doting on them. Both of them. The ride itself was short, almost too short to justify the expense, but Nix decided it was worth every Star Credit just to see Joon trying not to grin and Woo-Young failing to hide his wonder.
Next time, he would take them somewhere farther—maybe Terra Anka proper, or one of the neighboring moons—somewhere the ride could stretch long enough for them to really enjoy it. He also made a mental note to look into a custom family vehicle. A regular hover van would be too small for everyone to travel comfortably, but a bus would be excessive for smaller outings. Something in between, large enough for the family and elegant enough to make travel easier, would be perfect.
The cost would be painful, but Solaris had already made sure money would not be the problem. Nix still wanted to handle it carefully. Joon-ah's university funds were already settled too, and when the time was right, Nix would give him the red packet with the Star Credit bank card tucked inside. Joon would probably try to refuse. Nix would let him complain. The account was already in his name, so refusing would change exactly nothing.
Knowing that brat, he would feel worse leaving the funds untouched than he would accepting them. Eventually, he would use them properly. Nix trusted that much.
By the time they reached the Beyol residence, Joon had regained most of his dignity, while Woo-Young looked as if he were preparing himself to meet a royal court instead of a family.
Nix touched Woo-Young's shoulder lightly before they stepped inside. "Breathe, Woo-Young-ah. They are going to love you."
Woo-Young gave him a nervous smile. "That is somehow more frightening."
Joon snorted. "Do not worry. Eomeoni will feed you before she interrogates you."
"Joon-ah," Nix said mildly, "do not scare him before we even get through the door."
"I am not scaring him," Joon protested. "I am preparing him."
Woo-Young's nervous laugh was small, but real. That alone made Nix's chest warm.
The moment they stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the Beyol home wrapped around them: old wood polished smooth by generations of hands, quiet amber light spilling from paper-screen lamps, the faint murmur of movement from the kitchen, and the comforting scent of simmering moon-root broth, steamed pearl-rice, roasted sesame, and something honey-sweet cooling deeper inside the house. It was the kind of home that made people lower their voices without being told, not because it was strict, but because it felt cared for. Even the floor seemed to hold warmth, as if the whole house had been waiting patiently to gather them in.
Eomeoni appeared first, wiping her hands on a clean cloth still faintly dusted with moon-grain flour. Her eyes moved from Joon to Nix, then settled on Woo-Young with the sharp gentleness of a mother who noticed far more than she said. Behind her, the table already held bowls of pearl-rice, moon-root broth, fermented moon-greens, sesame-glazed vine shoots, lunar herb pickles, and a small plate of honeyed night-plum cakes cooling near the edge.
"You must be San Woo-Young," she said warmly. "Welcome. Any friend of our Maknae is welcome at our table—and no guest leaves this house hungry."
"And before you worry," Eomeoni added, her eyes softening as if she had already read the concern he was trying to hide, "there is none of that nutri-shake or nutri-loaf 'supplement' nonsense in this house. If you are under our roof, you will eat real food."
Woo-Young bowed so deeply Nix nearly worried he would fold himself in half. "Thank you for having me, Eomeoni-nim," he said, voice careful but sincere.
Joon made a strangled sound beside him, while Eomeoni's expression softened at once.
"Such good manners," she said, clearly pleased. "Come in. You boys must be hungry after the meet."
"I told you," Joon muttered under his breath to Woo-Young. "Food first. Interrogation later."
Nix elbowed him lightly. "Maknae."
Woo-Young pressed his lips together, trying not to smile.
Abeoji and Nuna appeared soon after, both still carrying the practical energy of people who had stepped away from work only because family mattered more.
Abeoji's gaze rested on Woo-Young for a long, quiet moment before his expression softened. "You swam well today," he said. "Joon does not bring many people home. If he brought you here, then you are someone he trusts. That means you are welcome."
Nuna's smile followed, gentle enough to ease the tension in Woo-Young's shoulders. "Do not look so nervous," she added warmly. "We only bite people who insult the food."
Yong-Jae arrived a moment later, his gaze taking in Woo-Young, Joon's hand hovering near his shoulder, and Nix's innocent expression in one sweeping glance. One corner of his mouth lifted. "Welcome, Woo-Young-ah. If Maknae starts bragging about his races, you have my permission to correct him."
Nix watched realization pass silently through the family. No one said anything. No one teased. Not yet. But the shift was there: a quiet, collective understanding that San Woo-Young was not simply another teammate.
That restraint made Nix love them more.
Woo-Young seemed to feel it too. His shoulders eased by the smallest degree as the Beyols welcomed him not as an outsider to be examined, but as a guest to be fed.
Woo-Young clearly was not used to food like this. He tried to hide it, but the careful wonder in his expression gave him away with every bite: the pause before tasting the moon-root broth, the way his eyes brightened at the pearl-rice, the way he accepted each small dish of fermented moon-greens, pearl-radish, sesame-glazed vine shoots, and lunar herb pickles with both hands and a quiet, grateful bow. His family could not often afford heritage cuisine, not the kind made with fresh lunar-grown ingredients, properly simmered broth, fermented sauces, and dishes meant to be shared instead of swallowed from a nutrition pack.
Still, he ate humbly, never reaching for too much, tasting a little of everything as if each bite had been entrusted to him.
The Beyols noticed, of course. Eomeoni added more rice before he could protest, Abeoji nudged a side dish closer with quiet insistence, Nuna explained which flavors paired best with the soup, and Yong-Jae passed him something sweet with a look that dared him to refuse. By the time Woo-Young whispered that everything was delicious, the entire household looked as though they had silently agreed he belonged at their table.
The dishes on the Beyol table were not ancient Earth food exactly. They could not be. Thirty-seven thousand years, dead planets, altered crops, lost records, and alien soil had changed too much for any recipe to survive untouched. What remained were descendants: flavors carried through family memory, preparation methods adapted to lunar ingredients, and names preserved because forgetting them would have felt like burying Earth a second time.
The Beyols cooked that way not because it was profitable, and not because the empire cared. They cooked that way because someone had to remember. Every bowl of pearl-rice, every dish of fermented moon-greens, every spoonful of slow-simmered moon-root broth was a small act of defiance against a galaxy that had traded meals for nutrition packs and called it progress.
Watching Woo-Young be folded into the Beyol table with such quiet certainty moved Nix more than he expected.
Maybe it was the food. Maybe it was the way Eomeoni kept adding more rice to every bowl, the way Abeoji watched without needing many words, the way Nuna and Yong-Jae teased softly without ever making Woo-Young feel small. Or maybe it was simply the impossible fact that Nix was sitting inside a home where love did not have to be earned through pain.
His heart felt full. That was the terrifying part.
Adapting to the Beyols had been easier than it should have been. Too easy. Natural in a way that made something inside him ache, as if this was how family had always been meant to feel. Warm voices, real food, gentle teasing, someone watching whether his bowl was full, someone noticing when his smile dimmed. It all fit around him so smoothly that Nix almost forgot this life had not begun as his.
Almost.
Because if this was how things were supposed to be, then why had he still ended up imprisoned by the Jailer System? Why had he still spent lifetimes fighting to reclaim pieces of himself? Why did moments like this keep pressing against him with the strange, disorienting weight of déjà vu?
Nix lowered his gaze before the thought could show on his face.
Not now.
There were more immediate dangers to handle: Lee Eun-ae, StarNet attention, the upcoming show, and whatever threads Solaris had been quietly watching. He could not afford to chase ghosts simply because warmth made old wounds whisper.
Still, beneath the fullness in his chest, there was an empty place. Small, but unmistakable. As if someone important should have been there. As if the table was almost complete, except for one missing presence he could not name.
It did not feel like ordinary grief. That was what unsettled him most. Grief had edges: memories, names, beginnings, even if it refused to have an end. This hollow felt stranger than that—quieter, older, and shaped like something his heart recognized before his mind could.
The only person he could think of was Draco.
Draco, with smoke in his hair, patient hands, and the easy warmth of someone who had once made food feel like home. Draco, whom Nix had lost when that world ended. Draco, whose absence still found him in quiet moments like this, slipping between laughter and gratitude like a shadow at the edge of firelight.
Nix swallowed and forced the ache back down.
He had a family here now. A loving one. A living one. And even if some part of him still felt like it was waiting for someone else to sit at the table, he would not let that hollow steal the warmth already in his hands.
For now, Nix let the warmth of the table hold him together, one shared dish, one quiet laugh, and one full bowl at a time.
Nix decided then that he would speak with Woo-Young privately later, once Joon was distracted and the boy had settled enough to breathe. Not to force a confession. Not to push. Only to let him know that if his heart was already walking toward Joon, then he did not have to walk that road alone.
Once Woo-Young had been drawn deeper into the warmth of the Beyol household, Nix let himself step back from the doorway and simply breathe. The boys were safe, the family had welcomed Woo-Young without pressure, and for a few precious minutes, the house moved around him with the ordinary comfort of voices, food, and familiar footsteps. That quiet steadiness gave his mind enough room to turn toward the storm waiting on the horizon.
The Chef and The Celebrity was about to begin production, and Nix still had too much to prepare: recipes, ingredient explanations, public image strategy, and enough emotional control to survive being watched by an empire that loved turning strangers into spectacles.
Maybe Yongbok would surprise him and already be a capable cook. If not, Nix could work with basics. He could work with disaster, if necessary. What mattered was whether the famed Movie Emperor could listen, adapt, and let the food speak when the cameras started rolling.
He was looking forward to seeing Yongbok's reaction when he discovered that Phoenix was not only prepared to compete, but also more than capable of performing. The original had decent instincts, and Nix had lived enough lives to turn performance into survival. This show was going to be dangerous, useful, and—if he played it correctly—very fun.
As for Lee Eun-ae, Solaris had helped him lay enough safety nets to keep her from pulling too freely at threads she should have left buried. Nix did not trust her to stay quiet. He trusted her to be exactly what she had always been: vain, greedy, vindictive, and foolish enough to believe that a pretty smile could hide the rot underneath.
That thought reminded him of Solaris.
Nix paused just outside the flow of family voices and reached inward through their bond. Solaris had been oddly quiet since before the swim meet ended. Physically, Nix knew Solaris was safe. The little dragon-phoenix was powerful, hidden, and impossible for anyone in this world to see or touch unless Nix allowed it. But physical safety was not the only kind that mattered.
He worried about Solaris's heart too. Solaris was clever, powerful, and ancient in ways Nix still did not fully understand, but he was also his baby. If something had upset him, Nix wanted to know.
'Hey, Solaris,' Nix called gently. 'Is everything okay, sweetie? I have barely heard from you, and I have not seen so much as a scale, flame, or feather since the swim meet.'
A familiar warmth brushed against his mind. Then Solaris appeared, small and radiant, curling into view where only Nix could see him. To everyone else in the room, Nix had merely gone still for a thoughtful breath.
'I am alright, Mama Nix,' Solaris said, his voice soft through the bond. 'I have just been busy, and you were busy too. I did not want to interrupt your time with your newest family member or the rest of your family. You only met them properly today, and with everything ahead of you, you deserve as much time with them as you can get. I did not mean to make you worry.'
Nix's expression softened. 'Aren't you just a big sweetheart? You are so thoughtful, baby. I am proud of you.' His gaze flicked briefly toward the family, making sure no one was watching too closely, before he opened his arms just enough for Solaris to slip against his chest. 'Come give me some quick snuggles. They always recharge me and calm my heart.'
Solaris went willingly, tucking himself beneath Nix's hands like a secret flame. No one else reacted. No one else could see the tiny dragon-phoenix pressed against Nix's chest or feel the warm pulse of the bond settling between them.
'I do not know what it is about having you close,' Nix admitted, rubbing the tiny head resting near his shoulder. 'It calms my mind and warms my heart. It almost feels like home. I know that sounds silly, but that is how it feels.'
'It is not silly,' Solaris replied at once. 'I think I understand how you feel. It is my favorite place to be too.'
Nix held him a moment longer, letting the quiet warmth settle beneath his ribs. Then the earlier thought returned, sharp enough to make his fingers pause against Solaris's scales.
'Solaris,' he asked slowly, 'what exactly were you busy with?'
Solaris went very still.
It lasted less than a breath, but Nix felt it through the bond.
'About that...'
Solaris tucked himself closer beneath Nix's hand, his tiny body warm and too still. 'I was checking something,' he admitted at last.
Nix's fingers paused. 'Checking what?'
'Threads.'
The word sent a quiet chill through Nix's chest. 'What kind of threads?'
Solaris's tail curled tighter around his own paws. 'Lee Eun-ae has started moving. Not openly yet, but she is looking for cracks. StarNet is also noticing you faster than expected.'
Nix's eyes narrowed. 'And?'
Solaris went silent for one breath too long.
'Solaris.'
'There was a response,' Solaris whispered.
Nix's heart stilled. 'A response to what?'
'To you.'
The room around them remained warm and ordinary, full of family voices and the scent of real food, but the bond between them had gone strangely quiet.
Nix forced himself to breathe. 'Because of the show?'
Solaris did not answer quickly enough. 'Maybe,' he said at last.
'Maybe?'
Solaris pressed closer, small claws curling carefully into the fabric. 'Mama… if you feel something strange when you meet Choi Yongbok, do not run from it immediately.'
Nix's breath caught. 'Why would I?'
Solaris's voice softened until it was barely more than a pulse through the bond. 'Because it may feel too much like home.'
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~ ✨~🐉~ ☯ ~🐦🔥~✨