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He was muscular, with orange hair styled in three sections and a beard of the same color on his chin, and was looking down at the wineglass in his hand.
The music suddenly grew lively, and servers wove through the venue, refilling drinks and serving dishes.
Rossi could feel countless eyes on his back, some curious, some appraising, and some concealing other meanings.
He raised his hand and accepted the offered wineglass, its cold touch reaching his fingertips.
Doffy walked beside him, his mouth wearing its usual curve, but the gaze behind his sunglasses was sharp as a blade.
They passed through the crowd toward the central area surrounded by food and flowers.
The sweet fragrance in the air grew stronger, almost creating the illusion that even their breaths were coated in syrup.
The woman on the raised platform looked down at them, her enormous body casting a broad shadow.
She laughed, her booming voice making the cups and plates on the table rattle softly.
"Enjoy yourselves,"
she said, "to what lies ahead."
Cheers rose around them again, so synchronized that it was almost eerie.
The petals kept trembling, and the clouds kept singing, as though the banquet itself were a living being.
Rossi took a sip of wine. The liquid slid down his throat, leaving a burning aftertaste.
He looked into the distance. Katakuri had already turned his gaze away and was speaking quietly with someone beside him.
The metal ornament at Daifuku's waist reflected a faint glimmer in the light. Oven set down his wineglass and looked up toward the platform.
The eldest daughter, Compote, speared a piece of fruit with her fork and put it into her mouth, her movements slow and unhurried.
All of this happened at once, like a meticulously arranged painting.
Rossi withdrew