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Once the car was on the road, Hayato found the ride remarkably smooth regardless of the road conditions, with barely any jolting. A good car, and a skilled driver.

They arrived at the restaurant entrance.

The outside of the restaurant did not look particularly grand or luxurious.

Its sign was written in ornate script, illuminated by orange lights.

Instead of the usual glass doors, the entrance was haphazardly nailed together from wooden planks. It looked rough and weathered, yet refreshingly distinctive.

A male and female greeter stood at the entrance, politely opening and closing the door for customers.

The driver said he would wait nearby until they had finished their meal.

"Do you have a reservation?" the female greeter asked with a smile.

"A reservation under Tony Stark."

Upon hearing that name, the two could not help giving Hayato and the others another look. In this city—or rather, in this country—who did not know Tony Stark? Everyone wanted some connection to Tony Stark.

According to statistics, more than a hundred thousand young women on social media claimed to have spent a passionate night with Iron Man!

Had Iron Man's lollipops been upgraded to titanium alloy construction and reactor-powered too?

Confirmation soon came through their earpieces. The two opened the door for Hayato's group, and three waiters came over to guide them to their table.

One of them tried to take Aunt May's handbag, but she declined with a smile.

Hayato, meanwhile, handed his canvas messenger bag—utterly out of place with both the suits and the restaurant—to a waiter. It contained around 120,000 dollars in cash.

The waiters pulled out their chairs for them.

Once they were seated, the elegant and well-mannered restaurant manager came over to greet them.

Hayato noticed that the décor had a pastoral style—quiet and