A Long-Established Restaurant

The restaurant door was pushed open with a slight creak.

The scene inside the store unfolds before your eyes.

The space wasn't large, but it was very clean. The wooden tables and chairs were arranged neatly, and several landscape paintings depicting the scenery of Lake Oysast hung on the walls. A few wall lamps emitted a soft glow, creating a sense of peace.

Lichta's gaze swept across the store, and she paused for half a second.

"Duncan," he said, his voice flat, "You have good taste. This is definitely the best restaurant in town; I come here often."

Duncan's gaze swept over the furnishings, his face expressionless, but something was churning in his eyes.

"My wife and I came here fifty years ago." He walked slowly into the shop, his tone calm. "It's incredible that the atmosphere has been preserved from back then."

Laufen looked around curiously, still holding the basket of donuts in his hand.

There weren't many customers in the restaurant, but a few tables stood out.

Lichta gestured with her chin towards a table further inside.

"Duncan, it's Frieren."

Duncan followed his gaze.

Frieren, Lowell, and Fern were sitting against the wall.

The scene on the table was somewhat astonishing.

In front of Frieren sat a plate piled high like a small mountain of roasted ribs, enough for at least ten people. She was forking a piece and eating it with gusto, her emerald eyes slightly narrowed in satisfaction, her silver hair gleaming in the light. Her cheeks puffed out.

Lowell sat next to her, holding a large glass of colorful sundae, scooping it out with a long spoon, his movements unhurried, his expression back to its usual lazy and easygoing state, as if the breakdown at dusk had never happened.

Fern sat opposite her, the food in front of her a much more normal portion—only a quarter slice of cake, a glass of juice, and a few donuts. Her pale purple eyes glanced at Frieren's plate, then at Lowell's large sundae, her lips moved slightly, and finally she spoke softly:

"Lady Frieren, is it really okay if I order as much as I want? I feel like this is already enough for me..."

Frieren swallowed the meat in her mouth, then forked another piece, her tone flat yet carrying a sense of taken-for-granted satisfaction:

"Of course. If you and I are both happy, Lowell will recover faster. Eat something enjoyable--"

Fern glanced at Lowell.

Lowell had just scooped up another spoonful of sundae when he noticed her gaze. He smiled at her, a little cream still dab on his lips. His smile was gentle, revealing nothing amiss.

Fern paused for a moment, then turned his gaze back to the horrifying pile of food in front of Frieren.

"... That's right. You've eaten too much. It's so convenient that elves don't get fat."

Frieren paused in her chewing, blinked as if seriously considering the sentence, and then nodded:

"That's true... but it's still annoying that no matter how much I eat, I won't get bigger."

"What?"

"Nothing."

She took a sip of water, her gaze sweeping over the shop's decor, and as if remembering something, added:

"Also, the taste of this restaurant is almost the same as before. It is said that decades ago, the hero Himmel helped the chef find his family heirloom sword, which had been lost for many years, because Ruby loved the food here. His reward was that the taste of this restaurant be preserved and remain unchanged."

Duncan and his two companions had already found a table a little further away and sat down. Duncan looked away from the "mountain" of food and waved to Lichta.

"Don't worry about them, Lichta. Aren't they having a good time? Come eat, that's what it's all about."

His voice was not loud, carrying a kind of detached calmness unique to the elderly, a calm acceptance of the ways of the world.

Lichta said nothing more and sat down opposite Duncan. Laufen also put down his basket and sat down next to Duncan.

Duncan opened the menu and skillfully ordered a few dishes. Clearly, even after fifty years, he still remembered them.

While waiting for the food, Lichta's gaze swept over other corners of the restaurant.

At a table near the window sat Lanto and Ubel. Lanto sat upright, quietly eating his tea and snacks. Ubel sat opposite him, one hand supporting his chin, the other casually poking at the food on his plate with a fork. His green eyes held a smile as he whispered something to Lanto. Lanto would occasionally adjust his glasses and offer a brief reply or two.

On the other side, against the wall, sat Wirbel, Ehre, and Scharf. Wirbel was eating grilled meat with gusto, Ehre was sipping soup, and Scharf, seemingly already full, was leaning back in his chair with a relaxed expression. The three didn't talk much, but the atmosphere wasn't awkward; instead, there was a familiar quiet, suggesting a good relationship.

Not long after, the food Duncan ordered arrived.

Laufen immediately picked up her fork and focused intently on the pork chop rice with sauce in front of her. She ate with gusto, her cheeks quickly puffing out.

Seeing her like that, Duncan used his fork to pick up a few florets of roasted broccoli from his plate and placed them on the edge of her plate.

"Laufen," he said, "You can't go without vegetables."

Laufen paused in his chewing, glanced at the few green florets on the side of the plate, then at Duncan, and said nothing. He simply forked a floret of broccoli and stuffed it into his mouth.

Lichta ate her portion, watching this scene, then turned her deadpan eyes to Duncan.

"... You're really not her grandfather?"

Duncan remained expressionless and did not answer, instead putting a piece of cutlet of meat into his mouth.

"Speaking of which, you said there were benefits, but this meal is completely unworthy of your status Court Mage. It's just the most ordinary food. I thought I was going to get a nice meal."

"Is that so? But this is what I ate fifty years ago."

"... I see."

The group ate their meal quietly. The only sounds in the restaurant were the soft clinking of cutlery, indistinct conversations, and the enticing aroma of food.

The "hill" over Frieren's side was steadily descending. Lowell's sundae was also empty. Fern finished her portion and was happily drinking her juice.

Time flows slowly.

The evening breeze carried a chill, dispersing the lingering aromas of food from the streets.

The group walked out of the restaurant.

Fern walked at the front, her steps much lighter than usual, her long, pale purple hair swaying gently behind her head with each step. Her hands were behind her back, and she even hummed a little tune, which sounded particularly clear on the quiet street.

Lowell and Frieren walked a few steps behind her, side by side.

Lowell rested his hands behind his head, his dark hair fluttering slightly in the evening breeze, his expression one of complete relaxation. Frieren walked beside him, a slight smile playing on her lips, her emerald eyes gazing at Fern's light and carefree figure ahead.

Oysast was quiet at night. The glow of the magic tower in the distance was the only significant light source, and there were only a few scattered lights on the nearby houses.

The three of them strolled leisurely back to the hotel along the familiar street.

Pushing open the door to the hotel room, I found the magic lamp had already been lit by a diligent waiter, emitting a soft glow.

Fern went in first, stretched a little, and had a satisfied weariness on his face.

"I'll go wash up now, Lady Frieren, Lady Lowell."

"Hmm," Frieren responded, walked to the window, and looked at the quiet night outside.

Lowell yawned, walked to the bedside, sat down, and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm a little tired," he said lazily. "Today was exhausting. I hope I've used up all my crying capacity from the last few centuries. No, I absolutely have to go with you to the second exam."

"Um."

Soon, Fern finished washing up and changed into her pajamas.

Frieren quickly washed up, her silver hair loosely draped over her shoulders. She walked to the bedside, glanced at Lowell was already lying down with his eyes closed, seemingly about to fall asleep, and then looked at Fern, who was fixing her hair.

"Frieren," Fern whispered, "Goodnight."

"Yes, goodnight, Fern," Frieren replied softly.

The room was plunged into darkness, with only the faint moonlight filtering through the window, outlining the blurry contours of the furniture.

Soon, even, soft breathing filled the room.

Fern lay on her side, curled up in the blankets, already fast asleep. A faint, relaxed expression lingered on her face.

Frieren closed her eyes as well, her long eyelashes casting soft shadows on her cheeks.

Lowell lay beside Frieren, his breathing steady and long. Occasionally, he would unconsciously move slightly towards Frieren until his arm gently touched hers, and then he would stop moving.

The night in Oysast was deep and peaceful.

The first night after the first round of exams passed peacefully.