Chapter 111 | Country Bumpkin
Violette shrugged, a hint of her earlier smugness returning. "You won already. The money is yours. The least you could do is fulfill one of my wishes before I hand it over."
Dexter stared at her for a long while as he frowned. He thought for a bit then eventually agreed. It wouldn’t hurt to just take her to lunch and leave after.
"Alright. What restaurant?"
"I know a place close to here," Violette said, already walking toward the exit. "Let’s go."
Dexter followed her out of the Titan Training Facility entirely.
The afternoon air was warm against his skin as it reached its highest intensity.
Violette confidently led the way. Her earlier fury seemingly dissolved, or at least deeply slightly reduced.
"There’s an Arcane restaurant nearby," she said over her shoulder. "Best one in the district."
***
The restaurant was called House Of Daily Gourmets.
The building was incredible. They mixed traditional along with modern architecture, making it look really nice.
The entrance was framed by two enormous stone lions, their eyes set with tiny mana gems that flickered with ambient light.
Despite the restaurant’s size, it was packed.
The main dining hall was filled to the brim with heroes, businessmen, wealthy civilians, and what appeared to be several minor nobles.
Waiters moved between tables with practiced grace, carrying steaming dishes that filled the air with a complex, mouthwatering aroma.
Yet despite the crowd, the restaurant was so spacious that there were still plenty of empty tables available.
Violette walked in as if she owned the place. She selected a table near the window and Dexter sat down opposite her.
A waiter appeared almost instantly. He was a young man in a black uniform with a cloth napkin draped over his forearm.
"Good evening. Welcome to House Of Daily Gourmets. Are you ready to order, or would you like a moment to review the menu?"
Violette didn’t even glance at the menu. "I’ll have the Grade Two Stamina Recovery Set. Dragon-Tail Steak with Moon-Herb Sauce."
The waiter nodded and turned to Dexter, presenting a leather-bound menu with a subtle bow.
Dexter opened it.
His eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
The menu was organized by grade.
Grade One meals occupied the first page, with prices ranging from 3,000 to 8,000 dollars per plate.
Grade Two meals started on the second page, with prices between 12,000 and 50,000 dollars. Grade Three meals which was the highest the restaurant offered actually began at 80,000 dollars and climbed to a staggering 150,000.
Dexter stared at the numbers.
A Grade Two meal, similar in quality to the simple rice dishes he casually cooked for his wives every morning, cost 12,000 dollars per plate here. And that was the cheap end. The higher-end Grade Two dishes ran up to 50,000.
’What the hell!’
The simple meals he cooked at home were Grade One at minimum, even with ordinary ingredients.
With Diamond Rice and Heavenly Treasures, he was producing Grade Four meals that didn’t even exist on this restaurant’s menu.
If a Grade Two meal here cost 50,000 dollars per plate, what would a Grade Four meal be worth?
’What would a Grade Five meal be worth?’
The numbers went through his mind like he was a number calculator.
One could even see dollars sigh in his eyes!
If he opened a restaurant, serving even Grade Two or Grade Three meals to the public, he could generate astronomical income. Tens of thousands of dollars per plate. Hundreds of thousands per day. Millions per month.
And that was just the beginning. As a Great Grandmaster Foodsmith, his capabilities far exceeded anything this restaurant could produce.
He was in a class of his own. There were only three Grandmaster Foodsmiths registered in the entire city, and none of them could reliably produce Grade Four meals. He could do it with his eyes closed.
A restaurant, his own establishment. A place where his Foodsmith skills could generate consistent, massive revenue, revenue that could be reinvested into his wives to gain 10,000 times returns!
The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. His eyes practically glowing with fire.
Across the table, Violette noticed the brightness in Dexter’s eyes.
Her lips curled upward in a small smile.
She mistook his excitement for the naive wonder of a young man experiencing fine Arcane Meal for the first time.
In her mind, she was looking at a country bumpkin who had never set foot in a restaurant this expensive.
The resentment she felt from losing to him eased slightly.
’So he’s strong,’ she thought to herself, taking a sip of water.
’Strong but poor. Interesting combination.’
"You’ve never been to an Arcane restaurant before, have you?" she asked, a trace of condescension in her voice.
Dexter pondered and realized he truly hadn’t seen an arcane restaurant before. He shook his head. "No."
Violette’s internal diagnosis of "country bumpkin" was confirmed. She smiled warmly—the first genuinely warm expression she had shown him all day.
"You should try their food. It’s really quite good."
Dexter nodded absently, still mentally calculating potential restaurant revenue streams.
He selected a Grade One meal from the menu.
*Grade One Iron-boar Steak: Premium monster beef steak served with mana-infused wild rice and fire-roasted vegetables. Restores physical stamina, slightly strengthens muscle fibers, and accelerates recovery from physical exertion. Ideal for post-training consumption.*
Price: 5,000 dollars.
Dexter ordered because he wanted to taste it.
He wanted to compare a professional restaurant’s Grade One meal against his own cooking to see where he stood. To understand the gap between his Foodsmith skills and the commercial market.
The waiter collected the menus and disappeared into the kitchen.
Dexter leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting across the restaurant.
The atmosphere was refined but not stuffy. Soft instrumental music played from hidden speakers.
The clinking of fine china and the murmur of polite conversation created a comfortable, ambient noise.
Violette sat across from him, her posture elegant, her violet eyes watching him with quiet, assessing interest.
"You handled yourself well in the arena," she said after a moment, her tone carefully neutral.
Dexter looked at her. "You don’t sound happy about it."
"I’m not," she admitted without hesitation. "I reduced my strength to Third Stage Superhuman and still lost. That shouldn’t have been possible."
"You told me not to hold back, I didn’t."
Violette’s jaw tightened slightly. "Your body... it’s not normal. No Third Stage Superhuman should be that durable. What cultivation technique are you practicing?"
Dexter smiled enigmatically. "A man should have his secrets."
Violette studied him for a long moment, then let out a soft, reluctant huff. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
The waiter returned, carrying two large, covered plates balanced expertly on one arm.
He placed the first plate in front of Violette—her Grade Two Dragon-Tail Steak, the meat glistening with a shimmering moon-herb sauce that radiated faint, silvery mana. The aroma was rich and complex, carrying hints of wild game and aromatic herbs.
Then he placed Dexter’s plate in front of him. The Grade One Iron-boat Steak Set.
The steak was thick and perfectly seared, resting on a bed of mana-infused wild rice alongside fire-roasted vegetables.
The meat had a faint, reddish glow the telltale sign of monster beast beef, which contained trace amounts of ambient mana.
The presentation was clean and professional.
Dexter blinked his eyes. ’Looks nice but I want to eat, not soak my eyes in designs.’
Dexter muttered as he saw the design on his food and the small portions given to him.