Mami stared at the bowl of Bubur Ayam. The gentle, steaming mound of rice porridge, topped with the contrasting dark soy sauce and the crisp fried shallots, looked impossibly inviting. It was utterly devoid of the complexity and danger that marked everything in her life. There were no exploding guns, no glittering ribbons of magic, and no whispering temptations of despair. Just food.
Slowly, carefully, she reached for the spoon.
The first taste was a shock of pure, unadulterated comfort. It was warm, savory, and so incredibly smooth. The flavor of the shredded chicken and the aromatic shallots grounded her, pulling her out of the vast, cold terror of her metaphysical crisis and into the simple reality of the present.
She ate slowly, deliberately, the tremors in her body subsiding with every spoonful. She realized her constant tension, the hyper-vigilance of being a Magical Girl, had momentarily vanished within the confines of the Overworld Restaurant.
Agung watched her, his expression placid. He knew this was the vital, quiet work of the hub: providing a respite where the soul could rest.
"It's... so good," Mami whispered, a genuine sound of appreciation that held no trace of her recent hysterics. "It tastes like... a Sunday morning. Before everything."
The Counseling Continues
Agung nodded, crossing his arms over his apron. "That is the magic of home cooking, Mami-san. It reconnects you to the person you were before the world tried to break you."
He needed to pivot her from passive victimhood to agency.
"You said you can't go back, and your fear of turning into a Witch is overwhelming. But you also spoke of protecting Madoka and Sayaka. That desire to shield them—that is the core of your nobility, Mami. That is the purest part of your wish."
"But if I stay, I'll become a threat to them," Mami insisted, her voice regaining some firmness, though still edged with sorrow. "That is the destiny Kyubey laid out for us."
"Destiny is what you allow to happen," Agung countered gently. "You are not a slave to the cycle unless you surrender your will. You have knowledge now. You know the price of your power. Knowledge is a new kind of weapon."
He leaned closer, his voice low and intense. "You returned here, Mami-san, not because you wanted to die, but because you wanted a solution. Do you think staying here, hiding from the battle, truly protects the girls who are now vulnerable to Kyubey's manipulations?"
Mami looked down at her half-finished bowl, shame coloring her cheeks.
"The greatest act of courage is not facing the Witch," Agung continued, "it is facing the truth and deciding to use that knowledge to change the game. You are the senior. You know the rules of damnation. Your next step must be to change the rules for the girls you love, even if it means finding a new way to fight."
He didn't need her to go back and immediately defeat Kyubey. He needed her to choose action over despair.
The Payment
Mami finished the last spoonful of porridge, a deep calm settling over her features. She felt centered, her mind clear of the immediate panic. She realized she couldn't stay—her true purpose lay in protecting her friends, armed now with the grim truth.
"I understand," Mami said, rising from the chair, a new resolve in her eyes. "Thank you, Agung-san. You gave me something stronger than magic."
As she approached the counter, a faint, non-threatening glow emanated from her chest, and a specific image formed in Agung's mind—the hub's demand for payment.
It was not Ryo, nor was it an artifact. The required payment for Mami Tomoe was a brief, intimate expression of genuine connection, a temporary balm for her profound, debilitating loneliness.
Mami saw the requirement in her mind and paused, a blush rising on her cheeks. She understood the transactional nature, but more importantly, she recognized the emotional need it addressed.
She walked up to Agung, who stood patiently, ready to receive whatever the hub required. Mami reached up, wrapped her arms around his large waist, and buried her face against his chest, holding him in a tight, desperate embrace.
It was a hug of profound relief, the embrace of a terrified child finding momentary shelter in a strong, safe harbor. She didn't seek romance or lust; she sought the feeling of being held, of not being utterly, tragically alone.
"Thank you," she whispered into his apron. "Thank you for the kindness."
After a long, silent moment, she released him, stepping back with renewed dignity.
"I have to go," Mami stated. "I have to find a way to tell them."
Agung placed a small, simple fried shallot chip—a potent symbol of Indonesian comfort and flavor—into her hand. "Take this. A small piece of home to remind you that sanctuary exists."
Mami nodded, clutching the chip. She turned, walked to the spot where the door had been, and it instantly glowed into existence. She stepped through, her stride firm and determined.
Agung was left alone in the fragrant silence of the restaurant.
Service Tally: 2.
The Djin's voice, bored yet satisfied, echoed in his mind: "A necessary transaction. The girl's loneliness was satisfied, and your humanity was preserved. Efficient. Do keep the tally going, chef."
Agung sighed, feeling the faint emotional echo of Mami's embrace fading. He had to keep track of that counter. Fifty services for one small upgrade.