Chapter 18: Flora Seems to Understand Something

Before Ian could stop her, Chiye bolted away, her hurried steps betraying a palpable fear of the restaurant.

Ian swallowed hard, turning to Flora.

“Maybe we should try another place. This one’s too empty. I doubt the demon would hide here.”

Flora’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes fixed on Ian’s uneasy expression.

“Didn’t you say the demon would likely be in a quiet restaurant? This place fits perfectly.”

Her gaze sharpened, as if peering through him. “Unless… you weren’t actually thinking about helping Aetherina find her pearl. You just wanted to eat, didn’t you?”

Her words hit like a dart, and Ian’s nerves spiked.

He waved his hands defensively.

“No way! It’s just… look, there are only two people eating here. The demon can’t be one of them, right? And you heard Chiye—her roommate’s inside. They’re probably not the demon either.”

Flora’s smile widened, her eyes glinting with amusement, as if she’d unraveled a puzzle.

“Even if it’s quiet, that doesn’t rule out the demon. What if they are Chiye’s roommate? We can always check other places afterward.”

Ian saw no way out.

Flora wasn’t budging.

“Fine,” he muttered, conceding.

With that, Flora strode confidently into Chiye’s mother’s restaurant.

Ian, though deeply reluctant, followed.

Chiye’s panicked behavior suggested the food here was barely edible, and worse, Flora seemed to have caught on that his heart wasn’t in the search for Aetherina’s pearl.

If he kept resisting, she’d likely confirm her suspicions—that he was obstructing her hunt for the demon.

That could make him a target of her resentment, and being hated by one of the story’s key heroines was a dangerous prospect.

If Flora won Aetherina’s favor and whispered a few choice words in her ear, Ian could end up on Aetherina’s bad side—a disaster he couldn’t afford.

His only hope now rested on Lillian, who was alone with Aetherina.

Sure, Lillian seemed a bit naive, but she was with Aetherina alone.

Surely she’d make some progress.

With the perfect “ideal wife” strategy Ian had crafted for her, even a notorious flirt like Aetherina wouldn’t stand a chance.

Bolstered by the thought, Ian squared his shoulders and marched into the desolate restaurant with newfound confidence.

“Welcome! Please, come in,” a voice greeted them as they stepped inside.

A woman approached—voluptuous, with nine fluffy fox tails swaying behind her and fox ears perched atop her head.

She looked like a mature, fuller version of Chiye.

Her voice dripped with a sultry charm, almost hypnotic, as she squinted at them.

“What would you like to eat?”

Ian’s mind went blank under the spell of her voice, his thoughts dissolving into a haze.

He moved to follow her lead, reaching for the menu she offered, her words echoing in his head: What would you like to eat?

But as his eyes fell on the menu, the fog in his mind cleared in an instant.

The dishes listed were a nightmare: Watermelon Stir-Fried with Pork, Banana and Tomato Stir-Fry, Deep-Fried Pineapple, Grape and Corn Stir-Fry.

Ian’s stomach churned.

He finally understood Chiye’s terror.

This wasn’t just bad cooking—it was culinary heresy.

Who in their right mind treated fruit like this?

These weren’t dishes; they were crimes against food.

No wonder Chiye had dodged his question about the taste, settling for “It probably won’t kill you.”

Ian had nearly fallen under the mother’s enchanting voice, and if he’d ordered, he’d have been doomed.

As someone who lived by the principle of “Every thread and grain is hard-earned; every bite of food is a labor’s reward,” wasting food was unthinkable.

Ordering and not eating would be a shameful betrayal of his values.

Scouring the menu, Ian found only one safe option tucked in the corner: Plain Boiled Water.

Just as he opened his mouth to order it, Flora spoke up.

“One Watermelon Stir-Fried with Pork, one Grape and Corn Stir-Fry, and… let’s add this one too…” Her voice was calm, deliberate.

Ian’s jaw dropped.

She’s ordering this stuff?

Was he being too picky?

Why was Flora, of all people, ordering dish after dish?

Weren’t they here to find the demon?

He’d assumed Flora was under the same enchantment as he’d nearly been, but when he glanced at her, her eyes weren’t clouded.

Instead, they sparkled with a mischievous glint, bright enough to blind him.

She was completely unaffected by the mother’s charm.

If someone as weak as Ian could snap out of it upon seeing the menu, someone as powerful as Flora wouldn’t have been swayed at all.

So why was she ordering these abominations?

Did elves have a fundamentally different sense of taste?

To Ian, these dishes belonged in the eighteenth layer of hell, reserved for the wicked.

But maybe to Flora, they were delicacies?

In the original story, though, Flora preferred light, simple foods—nothing like this culinary carnage.

Why, then, was she ordering this nightmare fuel?

Was she just throwing money around?

As an elven princess, she certainly had wealth to spare, but this seemed excessive.

Or—and this thought sent a chill down his spine—had she figured out his true intentions?

Did she know he wasn’t serious about finding Aetherina’s pearl and was just here to eat?

Was she ordering these monstrous dishes to punish him?

As Flora finished ordering and turned to him, her eyes gleamed with a knowing look, as if saying, You’re in for it now.

Ian swallowed hard, her gaze making his skin prickle.

In his mind, he wailed, Lillian, I’m doing this for you, and it’s going to cost me dearly.