After serving the last customer and wiping down the final table, Wendy let out a long sigh. Cold sweat clung to her temple, which she wiped gently with her sleeve, while the soft clatter of kitchenware and fading laughter from recent patrons still echoed faintly in the room. It had been an exhausting day—but a satisfying one.
She was chatting lightly with Mira behind the cashier’s counter, glancing up at the wall clock now and then. But something made her do a double take: the young man with the black hair was still seated at his table. His plate was empty, but he hadn’t moved a muscle.
"Mira... why is that customer still here? We’re closing up soon," Wendy asked quietly, her voice puzzled.
"Uuh... Miss Wendy, he said he wanted to speak with you," Mira replied, a little hesitant.
"Eh, me?" Wendy’s brow furrowed instantly, her mind jumping to all sorts of unwelcome thoughts before Mira quickly added,
"Y-Yeah, he said he just wants to ask something..."
"Ohh..." Wendy nodded slowly. "Alright then, go clean up the kitchen?"
"Uuh... but Joran—" Mira tried to weasel out, pointing toward the back.
"Joran’s out taking out the trash. You can handle it, right?" Wendy replied firmly, her smile flat but final.
"Haaah... fine..." Mira finally gave in with a sigh.
Meanwhile, Wendy straightened up and walked toward the young man’s table. She brushed a few strands of hair from her face and kept her expression polite and calm."Ahem... excuse me, sir. I heard you wanted to speak with me?" she asked, standing beside his table.
The man seemed to jolt slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. In front of him was a thin sheet of paper, filled with characters—strange ones, not from any known language in the Western continent. His eyes met Wendy’s, a little nervous.
"Uh, yeah... ahem, are you the one who made this pizza?" he asked, his tone more serious than Wendy expected.
"That’s right. I crafted the recipe," Wendy replied, a little proud, but humble.
"Well... it’s really good. Honestly. I haven’t tasted something this familiar in a long time. It hit me right in the memory," he said, his eyes a bit glassy, though he wore a faint smile.
"Hee, you flatter me. But... do you not enjoy the local food?" Wendy replied light-heartedly.
"It’s not that I dislike it... it’s just not my taste," the young man said, staring at the empty plate in front of him. His gaze fell on the tiny logo of a pizza slice printed in the corner of the dish—he looked at it the way one might gaze at an old childhood photo, not a meal. There was a distant, sentimental glint in his eyes, as if calling forth memories buried under years of silence.
Wendy raised an eyebrow. "Really now? Pizza isn’t exactly common in the west. Even travelers from the north or east are shocked to see it, calling it something totally new. I thought I was the first to spread it here. Unless..." she paused, recalling something. "Unless he opened a shop too."
"He?" the young man turned to her, his voice laced with curiosity.
"Sorry," Wendy chuckled softly. "I meant a friend of mine. His name’s Strom... a strange adventurer with weird gadgets and long-winded stories that make your head spin. But he’s funny... and kind of one of a kind." Her voice warmed as she spoke the name.
"Heh. Funny, huh..." the young man repeated quietly, before his eyes narrowed slightly, as if putting together a puzzle piece. "Strom... Strom..." he muttered. "Does he have black hair, sharp blue eyes, a bit taller than me?"He stood slowly, eyes locking onto Wendy more directly now.
Wendy froze. "Uuh... yeah? Wait, do you know Strom?"
The young man let out a short laugh, half amused. "Heh, that fake name... Strom. Seriously? Did he catch second-year syndrome or something?"
"Wait—you’re not making fun of him, are you?" Wendy’s tone rose a little, brows drawing tight with suspicion.
"What!? No, no—I’m serious," he said quickly. "He’s my friend. Has been since we were kids."
Wendy’s eyes widened. "Eeh?!"
The young man gave a soft grin, then bowed his head slightly, polite and calm. "Name’s Kiriya Asano. Childhood friend of Rentaro... or well, ’Strom’ as you know him."
The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Wendy just stared at him, lips slightly parted—and in the next second, only one word echoed in her mind—WHAT?
Wendy stared at her reflection in the small mirror inside her wardrobe—nails trimmed, hair neatly tied, a soft pink gloss on her lips. Her heart was beating way too fast. "This is weird," she thought, adjusting the collar of her blouse. Even though Kiriya’s sudden appearance had seemed suspicious at first, there was something in his eyes that convinced her—he really did know Strom. There was history there, a weight in his words that wasn’t just for show.
Her heartbeat quickened as she recalled his invitation: "Let’s continue this at the bar downtown... they’ve got expensive liquor." That bar wasn’t exactly casual—but the meeting wasn’t for fun. It was to confirm once and for all: was this man truly Strom’s friend, or just another stranger with vague intentions?
Suddenly, her mother appeared at the doorway, a wide grin stretching across her face. "Going to meet a man?" her mother asked, full of teasing suspicion.
Wendy flinched, her face instantly heating up like it had caught fire. "Umm..."
"Well then, bring him home sometime! Let your mom meet him!" her mother chirped cheerfully, giving her a playful nudge.
Before Wendy could protest, her younger sister popped in from the hallway. "Wait, big sis has a boyfriend?!" she squealed, eyes sparkling.
Not long after, her younger brother followed with an eager shout: "Who is it?!"
Wendy wanted to disappear. Her breath caught. "Eh—guys!!" she yelped in panic, cracking the door open just a bit. But her mother wasn’t done yet, her voice bubbling with hope. "Don’t take too long! I still want grandkids, you know!"
Wendy’s entire face went bright red, and she almost collapsed from the embarrassment. "Hey!!" she snapped, grabbing the edge of her mom’s dress in a desperate attempt to keep things from spiraling.
She knew this night could be important: the meeting might reveal the truth—and maybe even open the door to a future she hadn’t considered. But with her family piling on the pressure, she felt like she might faint before she even got out the door.
Taking a shaky breath, she turned back to the mirror one last time, making sure everything was in place. "Alright, Wendy... this isn’t a date. It’s... just a verification," she whispered to herself, trying to stay calm before stepping outside.
Wendy stood outside the upscale bar for a few seconds, adjusting her breath and trying to calm her pounding heart. The merchant district was lit with halogen lights, glittering glass, and the scent of polished old wood—luxury she’d never quite gotten used to, even after living in the city for years.
When she stepped inside, a small bell above the door chimed, marking her arrival. The atmosphere changed immediately: people wore expensive clothes, and the scent of high-quality wine hung in the air. Everything felt exclusive—this clearly wasn’t an ordinary place. Wendy absorbed the mood with a focused gaze, brushing away her nerves.
Her eyes immediately landed on a familiar figure—Kiriya—sitting at the bar, staring blankly at an empty glass. Wendy approached slowly, and just as she reached the bartender’s counter, she caught the tail end of Kiriya’s voice.
"You don’t have milk?" he asked, half hopeful.
The bartender, a broad man in a black apron, shot him a half-annoyed glance. "Hey, you’re at a bar. You want alcohol or not?"
Kiriya responded with a quick grin, his tone half-joking. "I’m seventeen!"
The bartender recoiled in mock offense. "And what’s wrong with that?!"
Kiriya didn’t flinch. "Fine then, just give me water..."
Wendy exhaled softly, steadying her nerves as she took a seat next to him. The mood still felt sharp—smooth jazz playing in the background, dim lights, and drink prices that could make your wallet cry. But now, with the two of them side by side, it somehow felt... lighter. She stared into her own glass of water, watching the cold condensation before turning to Kiriya.
"Seventeen, huh... What, are you scared to drink?" she teased.
Kiriya shrugged casually, expression easygoing. "Not scared. Just not legal yet."
Wendy blinked, her eyes widening. "Wait, here even ten-year-olds drink rice liquor," she said, half in disbelief.
Kiriya chuckled and sipped his water slowly. "Poor kid’s liver," he muttered, then added more seriously, "That’s the rule where I’m from."
Wendy shook her head, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Right... So, earlier you said you wanted to continue our conversation," her tone softened, tinged with curiosity.
"I did," Kiriya replied, his eyes locked on hers. "You looked suspicious when I said I was Rentaro’s friend."
Wendy met his gaze, breath slightly uneven. "Yeah... It’s a bit strange. You just showed up out of nowhere saying you knew him."
Kiriya offered a small, calming smile. "Of course I’m his friend," he said plainly.
He leaned a little closer. "Full name: Kiriya Asano."
Wendy swallowed, a faint, shy smile forming on her lips. "Ooh—Asano. I thought you were just some random outsider," she replied quietly, eyes still filled with a flicker of doubt.
Kiriya gave a slow nod. "I get that," he said, turning briefly toward the bar before looking back at her. "And from the first time I heard the name ’Strom’—that’s Ren’s alias, right?"
Wendy furrowed her brows, surprised and slightly amused. "How do you know that?" she asked, studying Kiriya’s eyes, searching for a truth in this odd encounter.
Kiriya’s lips curled into a small smirk, a quiet satisfaction in his tone. "Heh... call it a hunch," he said, scooting a little closer, letting the space between them warm up.
Wendy narrowed her eyes and took a sip from her glass. "Haah... so what’s your real reason for being here?" she asked, trying to read him, trying to understand where this conversation was going.
Kiriya took a deep breath, a flicker of hesitation passing through his eyes before he spoke. "There’s something I need to ask you too... Where did he go?"His voice was low but firm, as if he needed—desperately needed—a real answer.
Wendy stiffened under his gaze, his eyes full of unspoken questions."He... he accepted a quest from a noblewoman in this city," she said slowly. "To deliver her pet to the Penal Plains."
Kiriya’s expression froze, eyes going wide. "What!?" he exclaimed, loud enough that the bar’s music seemed to momentarily falter.
Wendy nodded firmly, confirming the news. "Yes, it’s true," she said calmly, meeting his shock with quiet sympathy—and relief that the question had finally been answered.
Kiriya closed his eyes for a moment, visibly distressed. "The Penal Plains... gods, that’s... that’s the far south, isn’t it? Why would he go that far?!"
Wendy let out a soft sigh, her memory drifting to their previous conversation. "Yeah, I asked him that too," she said gently. "He said he wanted to travel. To experience the world."
Kiriya gave a bittersweet smile, a mix of respect and subtle relief in his voice. "Yeah, that sounds like him," he said at last. "He always said he wanted to see more of the world."His voice faded into something warm—quiet, but filled with meaning.