One week was enough time for "Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery" to evolve, within certain circles of Janusopolis, from a "new and interesting little restaurant" into a veritable "status symbol."
Phaethon hadn't been idle during this week. Once Cyrene had figured out some of his patterns, she'd mustered her courage, wheedled and coaxed until Phaethon "casually" recorded the final moments of several historically renowned imperial chefs or legendary gourmets. The process was just as brief and filled with the same sense of "*snap*—and it's over" abruptness, but the golden finger performed reliably nonetheless.
[Folder 'Imperial Chef · Barbossa' named successfully!]
[Folder 'Spice Master · Zola' named successfully!]
[Folder 'Dessert King · Xiona' named successfully!]
These folders contained no world-shattering sword techniques, only the ultimate understanding of ingredients, masterful control over heat, an almost artistic sense for spice pairing, and breathtaking creativity in dessert presentation.
Phaethon felt his understanding of culinary arts instantly elevate by several dimensions. Where he once relied on experience and trial and error, now he could almost hear the subtle changes in ingredients within the wok, see how the molecules of spice intermingled in the air. His knife skills became more fluid, his seasoning more precise and daring, his plating more naturally elegant.
But the reason "Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery" could gain a firm foothold so quickly among the discerning *nouveau riche* circle and become a "status symbol" was, to a certain extent, "thanks" to that persistent fellow—Elliott Warren.
Elliott, the merchant's son, though nearly scared to death on the spot by Phaethon's "manly aura" that day, had subsequently become determined to befriend Phaethon.
To that end, he'd even become a regular at "Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery." Not only did he come daily himself, he also brought friends, hauling his wealthy circle of equally cash-flush, novelty-and-style-seeking companions to Phaethon's little shop by the carload.
Every visit, he inevitably ordered the most expensive custom dishes, and the tips he left upon departure were so generous they made Phaethon's eyelid twitch. He'd even tried to "invest" in the restaurant, but Phaethon had politely yet firmly shown him the door with the excuse of, "Small business, no outside investment."
The effect, however, was remarkable. These privileged guests Elliott brought had discerning palates, but they were utterly astonished by Phaethon's cooking skills.
The pricing at "Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery" was effectively driven up by this crowd, becoming a new destination for Janusopolis's *nouveau riche* to flaunt their taste and financial clout. Phaethon looked at the staggering figures in his ledger with mixed feelings.
*Is this what they mean by 'beholden to the feeder, soft-handed from the giver'?* It's just that every time Phaethon felt Elliott's gaze on him, it seemed... off. That look of discovering a treasure...
Cyrene's assessment was: "Little Phaethon, just think of him as... well... a long-term meal ticket with more money than sense? ♪ He's eating happily, after all. And he gave up on pursuing me ages ago. It won't affect our lives~"
Meanwhile, Evelyn, the priestess from a prominent priestly family with her cascading purple hair, who had earned her position on genuine merit, remained steadfastly true to herself.
She almost every afternoon would "just happen to be passing by" "Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery," then "pop in" for a visit, ordering a cup of light tea or a small, exquisite pastry, before planting herself firmly next to Cyrene and refusing to leave.
She would discuss profound priestly theories with Cyrene, analyze obscure oracle fragments, and complain about certain deadwood occupying positions in the Sanctuary (her eyes occasionally darting towards Elliott's usual seat).
In the end, Phaethon couldn't quite figure out the exact nature of her relationship with Cyrene. He just got the feeling Cyrene was somewhat enjoying it?
There was one small matter, however, that greatly frustrated Cyrene: she'd been stuck on the intermediate priestess promotion exam for a while now. The theoretical exam was no challenge for her, but when it came to the practical application of Oronyx's complex rituals, she always fell just short by a subtle margin. High Priest Vittorio offered no specific critique, merely advising her to practice more.
That afternoon, Elliott arrived again, accompanied as usual by several well-dressed companions. After ordering a slew of expensive dishes, he sidled up to the counter, watching Phaethon wipe glasses, and lowered his voice with a "we're pals" tone: "Hey, Brother Phaethon, is Miss Cyrene troubled about her promotion lately?"
Phaethon glanced up at him but didn't speak.
Elliott continued, undeterred: "I get it! Those old fogies in the Sanctuary, sometimes they just need a little... 'motivation'! Take High Priest Vittorio. He used to be stern, but actually..."
He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in the universal "you know what I mean" gesture. "I think Miss Cyrene's situation might benefit from trying it? Find an opportunity, invite the High Priest for a meal at 'Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery'! Your skills, Brother Phaethon, are sure to win him over! Then, once the High Priest is happy, a few words of advice, or a slightly relaxed standard... Heh heh, the promotion will just follow naturally?"
Phaethon's glass-wiping hand paused. He looked at Elliott, whose face was a picture of "I genuinely want to help" and "this trick absolutely works." Although Elliott was often unreliable, the suggestion itself... Phaethon thought about Vittorio's behavior that day and the hints about Sanctuary culture he'd picked up from Jacob, and actually found it... somewhat reasonable?
He relayed Elliott's words verbatim to Cyrene. After hearing him out, Cyrene's pink eyebrows knitted together, her small face full of conflict: "Invite Teacher Vittorio to dinner? Is... is that appropriate? It feels like bribery..."
"Perhaps it could be seen as a student showing respect and seeking guidance from her teacher?" Phaethon chose his words carefully. "Besides, what Elliott said... might not be entirely without merit. We both have some idea of the Sanctuary's atmosphere. Perhaps High Priest Vittorio also needs a stepping stone?"
Cyrene bit her lower lip, her sky-blue eyes wrestling with the idea for a good while. The promotion bottleneck was genuinely making her anxious, especially seeing Evelyn delve into intermediate priestess knowledge she couldn't yet participate in, which left her feeling somewhat sour.
Finally, she sighed: "Alright! Let's give it a try! Little Phaethon, this meal... it's all on you! You must make sure the teacher is satisfied! Otherwise, your big sister Cyrene will lose all face. ♪"
The pressure instantly shifted to Phaethon.
Not that Phaethon was too worried about it. For no other reason than sheer practiced familiarity.
The next day, Vittorio and Jacob were invited to "Cyrene and Phaethon Eatery."
Vittorio looked at his disciple, who was clearly not here for the first time and was currently stuffing himself while having the spare focus to recommend dishes to him, and fell silent. That evening, Vittorio said nothing of substance. He merely offered a thin, somewhat strained smile and said, "Priestess Cyrene, do your best in your next promotion as well."
Three days later, Cyrene successfully passed the intermediate priestess promotion exam. Because of this, Cyrene again complained to Phaethon that Vittorio really was no good, and that even his disciple Jacob was more genuine than him.
As for Elliott and Evelyn? After learning of Cyrene's promotion, Evelyn brought a scroll from her family's collection—an ancient handwritten copy analyzing Oronyx's whispers—expressing a desire to "progress together."
Elliott, on the other hand, used the congratulations as a pretext to start asking Phaethon about what Evelyn liked...
His explanation for this was: The people I've always liked are just those with priestly talent.
…
(Cyrene (Alert): Gwa! When did I ever suffer a loss like this?!)
(Phainon: When is it my turn to appear?
Author: Oh? So eager to be subjected to this?
Phainon: ...Never mind then.
Author: Just kidding, the subjection has already begun, and is almost over.
Phainon: You …!)