Chapter 167: An Expensive Meal, A Priceless Friendship
Ash Ketchum adjusted the straps of his backpack, signaling his intent to leave. However, just as he and his yellow partner turned toward the door, Ren reached over the counter. In his hand was a beautifully wrapped box, tied with a simple but elegant ribbon.
"For the road," Ren said, his voice calm and warm. "These are handmade cookies. Think of it as a souvenir."
This gesture took Pikachu completely by surprise. The little electric mouse's long ears twitched, and his round eyes sparkled with delight.
"Pika!" Pikachu cried out happily. He leaped from Ash's shoulder onto the counter, rubbing his soft, chubby cheek against Ren's face. The faint static tingle that transferred to Ren's skin was not a sign of aggression, but of pure, unfiltered affection.
Sitting on her high stool nearby, Lucifer froze. The wine glass in her hand stopped swirling. Her crimson eyes widened as she watched the intimacy between the human chef and the creature.
A complicated storm of emotions brewed within the former CEO of Hell. She stared at the box of cookies, then at Ren's smiling face. Why? she thought, her fingers tightening around the delicate stem of her glass until it threatened to crack. Why does that yellow electric rat get a gift? I've been working here all night! I'm the staff! Where is my special treatment?
She didn't know who to envy more—the carefree mouse receiving the sweets, or the man being nuzzled so adorably. She let out a soft, indignant huff, turning her head away to hide the slight pout forming on her lips.
While Lucifer was busy wrestling with her internal jealousy, Ash chuckled and picked Pikachu up. The Pokémon was absolutely ecstatic. His two short little paws firmly clutched the cookie box as if it were a legendary artifact or a Master Ball.
"Here, buddy, let me put that in the bag for you," Ash offered, reaching for the box.
Pikachu immediately pulled back, shaking his head rapidly. "Pika! Pi-ka!"
"You want to hold it yourself?"
Pikachu nodded vigorously. He refused to let go. Even after some negotiation, he hesitated for a long time before finally, reluctantly, allowing Ash to stow it away for safekeeping.
Watching the duo leave, Tony Stark cleared his throat. He had been watching the interaction with a bemused expression, ready to make a sarcastic quip about rodent hoarding behaviors. But then, his internal clock—honed by years of tight schedules and board meetings—ticked over.
He glanced at the expensive timepiece on his wrist and his eyes widened.
"Shoot," Tony muttered, the chair scraping against the wooden floor as he stood up abruptly. "It's already this time! I have a video conference with the board in twenty minutes, and if I'm late, Obadiah will have my head. Or worse, Pepper will give me the look."
Tony patted down his suit jacket, checking his pockets instinctively. "Boss! Check, please! How much is the damage for the world's best steak?"
He was mentally prepared for a staggering figure. He had eaten A5 Wagyu beef that melted like butter, seasoned with fleur de sel that tasted like it came from a pristine ocean in another dimension. He had drunk coffee that put the best baristas in Rome to shame. In his mind, he was ready to swipe a Black Card for three, maybe four thousand dollars.
Ren wiped his hands on a clean towel and looked up casually. "The price... if calculated in your world's currency and converted, it should be around seven thousand yen."
Tony froze. His hand, halfway to his inner pocket, stopped in mid-air.
The genius billionaire playboy philanthropist blinked. Once. Twice.
"I'm sorry," Tony said, his brow furrowing. "Did the universal translator glitch? Did you say... seven thousand?"
"Yes, seven thousand yen," Ren confirmed with a faint smile.
Tony's brain, usually capable of complex quantum calculations, struggled to process the absurdity. Seven thousand yen. That was roughly sixty to eighty dollars, depending on the exchange rate.
"Boss," Tony said, his voice laced with genuine disbelief. "You're charging me eighty bucks? I just consumed a meal that defies the laws of culinary physics. The material cost of that beef alone should be triple that. Are you running a charity for wayward billionaires? Or is this a front for a money-laundering operation?"
Ren chuckled, amused by the billionaire's confusion. It was refreshing to see someone so wealthy be so flustered by a low price. He waved his hand dismissively. "The price of ingredients here is set by the System, and it's quite stable. There's nothing worth mentioning. Oh, and just so you know, that seven thousand includes Ash and Pikachu's portions as well."
Tony's jaw dropped slightly. "You fed the kid and the walking battery, too? Included in the eighty?" He laughed, a short, incredulous sound that echoed in the quiet restaurant. "That's ridiculous. That's actually insane. Boss, seriously, what is your name?"
"Ren."
"Ren..." Tony tested the name on his tongue. "Short. Efficient. Sounds Eastern. Is that a code name?"
"It's just my name."
"Right. Okay." Tony stopped dwelling on the semantics. He reached into his pocket to grab his wallet, confident that he had enough cash or at least his cards.
His hand met empty fabric.
Tony patted his left pocket. Nothing.
He patted his pants pockets. Nothing.
He checked the inside breast pocket. Nothing.
"Ah! Dammit," Tony slapped his forehead, a rare flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "This isn't the suit I wore out this morning! This is the Mark IV prototype backup suit I keep in the workshop. My wallet is in the Armani pants I left in the bedroom."
He looked around, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability. Tony Stark, the man who could buy entire countries, was currently unable to pay an eighty-dollar tab.
Ren watched him, intending to speak. He wanted to say, 'It's fine, just pay me next time. You're a regular now.'
But before Ren could utter a word, Tony made a decision. He looked at his wrist.
He was wearing a custom-made watch. On the surface, it looked like a limited-edition Patek Philippe, already worth a fortune. But internally, Tony had modified it. It contained a micro-EMP generator, a GPS tracker linked to his private satellite, and a deployable laser cutter. It was a masterpiece of horology and engineering.
Tony undid the clasp. The heavy metal clinked as he placed it on the wooden counter.
"Ren," Tony said, his tone shifting from playful to deadly serious. "You're a great guy. A rare find in this multiverse. Consider this payment for the meal."
Ren blinked, looking at the watch. Even without knowing the tech inside, he could tell the craftsmanship was exquisite. "Mr. Stark, this is unnecessary. You can just—"
"No, take it," Tony interrupted, sliding the watch across the wood. A charismatic, yet tired smile played on his lips. "Where I come from, this is worth tens of millions. But honestly? The experience I had tonight... the silence... the peace of mind... that's not something I can buy, even with Stark Industries' budget."
Ren looked into Tony's eyes. Behind the bravado and the ego, he saw a man who was deeply tired. A man carrying the weight of the world—literally—on his shoulders. This meal hadn't just filled his stomach; it had quieted the noise in his head.
Ren smiled gently. He didn't reject the gesture. To reject it would be to reject Tony's pride.
"That wasn't what I wanted to say," Ren said softly. "I wanted to say... I wish you success with your research. And your life."
Tony paused. He looked at the chef, realizing that this mysterious man saw more than he let on. He nodded slowly, a genuine appreciation in his eyes.
"If I can, I'll try to come earlier next time, Ren. You really are a suitable person to be friends with."
"Likewise."
"Me? Suitable to be friends?" Tony scoffed, grabbing his stack of blueprints and turning toward the door. "Forget it. I'm a narcissist with a hero complex. Ask anyone."
With that, Tony pulled out his transparent, futuristic phone. He tapped a few buttons, the holographic interface lighting up his face as he started recording a video log.
"Day 47. Or is it 48? Found a place. A real place..."
He pushed the door open, the bell chiming softly. He turned around one last time, gave a two-finger salute, and walked out into the light.
Ren stood behind the counter, watching the door close. The silence returned to the restaurant, but it felt warmer now. He looked down at the watch ticking silently on the counter.
"Looks like he has to go back to work," Ren murmured. "Poor guy."
"He seemed in a rush," Lucifer commented, her voice softening as she finally spoke up.
Ren didn't convert the watch into system points. He didn't sell it. Instead, he opened a drawer under the counter and placed it carefully inside, next to a few other trinkets. It was a gift from a friend. That was its true value.
He sat back down on his chair and let out a long, heavy sigh. The adrenaline of the busy service was fading, leaving a pleasant exhaustion.
Lucifer looked around the empty restaurant. "Today's guests were truly exceptionally many," she said, swirling the last dregs of her wine. "Especially the guests from Another World. They kept coming in succession like a parade. The King of Games, the Iron Man, the Pokémon Trainer..."
Ren rubbed his temples, feeling a slight headache coming on, but he smiled. "Yeah. I have a premonition that we might not see such a rush for a while. But if new guests do come... they will definitely be from Another World again."
Lucifer didn't argue. She had seen enough tonight to know that this restaurant was a magnet for the extraordinary.
Ren looked at Lucifer, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "By the way, are you still watching that movie on your tablet?"
Lucifer stiffened. She quickly angled the screen away from him. "Yes... Wait... don't talk to me! I'm at the emotional part!"
"Hey! You really aren't saying anything now! That's too much! Talk to your boss!"
"Quiet! The protagonist is about to confess!"
When it was just Ren and Lucifer, the Queen of Hell dropped some of her icy facade. She wasn't so aggressively tsundere anymore; she was more open, more relaxed. But no matter how hard she tried to maintain her dignity, she was utterly helpless against Ren's teasing. She was completely under his thumb, and perhaps, deep down, she didn't mind it as much as she pretended to.
Meanwhile, across the boundaries of dimensions.
Tony Stark stepped out of the "door" and the transition was instantaneous and jarring.
One moment, he was in a warm, wood-paneled restaurant that smelled of charcoal fire and vanilla. The next, he was standing in the middle of his ultra-modern kitchen in Malibu.
The air here was different. It was sterile. Filtered. Cold.
The warm yellow lighting of the restaurant was replaced by the cool, clinical blue hues of his smart home system. The silence wasn't peaceful; it was filled with the low, constant hum of server farms cooling down in the basement and the whir of machinery in his workshop.
Tony looked out the panoramic windows overlooking the ocean. The sky was gradually brightening; dawn was breaking over the Pacific.
He stretched his arms, hearing his spine crack. The physical exhaustion of being awake for seventy-two hours rushed back in, but his mind... his mind felt strangely clear.
"Jarvis!" Tony called out, his voice echoing in the large room. "Get me some hot water. And maybe a coffee. Actually, cancel the coffee. It'll just disappoint me."
"Yes, sir," the disembodied British voice of his AI replied instantly. "Welcome back, sir."
Tony walked over to the kitchen island where a plate of leftover food sat—a cheeseburger Jarvis had ordered for him hours ago. It was cold now. The cheese had congealed.
He picked it up, took a bite, and chewed slowly.
He leaned against the sleek marble counter and let out a long sigh of disappointment. "It really isn't as delicious as what Ren makes. It tastes like... cardboard. High-quality cardboard, but cardboard nonetheless. The soul is missing, J."
"Sir, do you need me to prepare something else?" Jarvis asked solicitously. "My database does not contain information on a famous chef named 'Ren'. Shall I search the Michelin guide or the deep web?"
Tony smiled, tossing the crust back onto the plate. "No... no need. This is fine. Only he can make that taste. It's not about the recipe. It's about the... magic. Literally."
"Is the hot water ready?"
"Ready, sir."
Tony nodded and grabbed the mug. Just then, the sharp sound of heels clicking on the floor echoed through the room.
Tony turned. A woman with strawberry-blonde hair walked in. She was dressed impeccably, but her eyes were tired. She held a tablet in one hand and looked like she hadn't slept much either.
It was Pepper Potts.
She saw Tony and stopped, genuine surprise and relief washing over her face. "Tony! Where did you go? I checked the workshop, the garage, the bedroom... I couldn't find you anywhere. Your tracking signal went dark for two hours."
Pepper looked concerned. Tony had a habit of disappearing into his work, but disappearing physically from a secured fortress was new.
Tony smiled, his energy returning at the sight of her. "Oh! Pep. Great to see you. You might not believe it, but I went to a restaurant in Another World and had a very delicious dinner... uh... well, looking at the sunrise, it should be considered a late-night snack here."
Pepper froze. She rubbed her temples, closing her eyes for a moment. She let out a breath she had been holding. "Tony! I think you need to rest. You haven't slept in three days. You're exhausted; you're having hallucinations about magical restaurants now? Is this the palladium poisoning talking?"
Tony knew how it sounded. "I know, I know. 'Tony's finally cracked.' 'The stress got to him.' But look."
He pulled out his transparent phone and projected the video he had recorded. The hologram hovered in the air between them. It showed the wooden door appearing from nowhere, the warm interior, the strange silver-haired chef, and brief glimpses of a yellow mouse and a three-headed girl.
Pepper stared at the footage. Her mouth opened slightly. "There... there shouldn't be that door here. That wall is solid concrete. And the sensors didn't pick up any construction..."
Tony nodded, shaking his bare wrist at her. "You might not believe this either, but I used my watch to pay for the meal because I didn't bring my wallet. Turns out, interdimensional travel doesn't accept Amex."
Pepper paused, processing this. She looked at his wrist, noticing the absence of the multi-million dollar prototype. She looked at him, realizing he wasn't manic—he was calm. His eyes weren't darting around; they were steady.
"It certainly looks like... a good meal," she said cautiously. "But what did you eat that was so expensive it cost a Patek Philippe?"
"A5 Wagyu steak, a cup of coffee that tasted like heaven, a plate of assorted barbecue, and a few cookies from a new friend who travels with an electric squirrel. Oh... and a glass of non-alcoholic champagne and milk."
Tony chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back. "That's the crazy part, Pep. I actually think non-alcoholic champagne tastes good now! Who am I becoming? Maybe I should buy a farm."
"Tony," Pepper said, crossing her arms but smiling slightly, seeing the tension leaving his shoulders. "That sounds like extortion. A watch for a steak?"
"Actually," Tony corrected her, "he only asked for eighty dollars. Or seven thousand yen. But I didn't have cash, and I didn't have my card. And I didn't think he would want a piece of my clothing, so..."
"Eighty dollars?! For A5 steak?!" Pepper's eyes went wide. "Tony, I think you need to tell me everything about this bizarre experience. Start from the beginning."
Tony Stark smiled, feeling lighter than he had in years. He placed the mug down. "Let me take a shower first. I need to process it myself. It was a magical night, Pep. Pokémon, a waitress named Lucifer, a Hellhound... it's insane."
He walked past her toward the master bedroom, whistling a tune.
Pepper watched him go, then looked up at the ceiling, addressing the AI. "Jarvis, he seems... happy?"
"Yes! Sir is very excited and his mind is very relaxed."
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