London, England.
At a snack shop on a street corner in London's wealthy district, a handsome man dressed like a British gentleman entered the establishment called Indian Flavors Snack Shop.
The moment he appeared, he drew many eyes. His high nose bridge, deep-set eyes, thick golden hair, and profound gaze did not quite match the style of Britain's young people at the time.
Though his face alone looked quite youthful, no more than seventeen or eighteen, every movement mimicked the conduct of old British gentlemen—precise and supremely elegant.
This made some of the young ladies dining there cry out in regret. He was quite handsome, yet every gesture made him seem old-fashioned, as if their own fathers had suddenly appeared before them, ruthlessly snuffing out the love-struck fantasy of "a sweet romance."
The young man ignored the gazes of the ladies and walked straight toward the counter, his cane striking the wooden floor with a sonorous, rhythmic knock.
He politely asked the waiter, "Sir! Do you sell Stargazy Pie here?"
The waiter was not very old either, with the appearance of a pretty boy. He claimed to be from India, but his Eastern features made it clear he was lying. The diners did not care, however. On one hand, they came because the "Indian" food here was very "authentic," especially the "soul-stirring crispy balls," which were beloved by the public. Topped with cheese, cream, and honey, even the British said they were delicious.
On the other hand, this "Indian" restaurant was quite distinctive. It was said that most of its ingredients came from India, especially its various secret spice blends, all rich in flavor. There was even Ganges water specially shipped from India's Ganges River to London. According to the restaurant staff, Ganges water was equivalent to holy water in