Three months! Do you have any idea how Phaethon survived these three months? He almost started to believe he hadn’t transmigrated into the dood Amphoreus, but into so otherworld where culinary skills reigned supre!
Thankfully, that small restaurant in the pri location managed to stumble its way into operation. Its na was plain and unadorned—"Cyrene and Phaethon’s Kitchen".
Relying on the nearly thousand Folders in Phaethon’s mind, the unique flavors from his previous life’s knowledge, and the popularity brought by the lovely fairy lady Cyrene, the business gradually picked up. It managed to keep food on the table and even generate a small surplus.
What? You ask where these nearly thousand Folders ca from? Of course, by asking Cyrene to borrow household registers from various city-states in the Sanctuary. Most were from several years or even decades ago.
But according to the Golden Finger, a single glance was enough. Then, Cyrene spent three whole weeks just moving books... Rumor has it she emptied three large bookshelves.
So much so that when Jacob visited, he asked if Cyrene was considering the path of a Battle Priestess to train her physical fitness...
But today! Today is absolutely a day worthy of being recorded in the annals of history! Because today is the day Cyrene solemnly promised to demonstrate the ultimate, stripped-down version of the Oronyx high priestess exclusive art—"Oronyx Prayer"!
(Golden Finger: *Was I not ruthless enough? The host has been obsessed with wielding the wok these three months, his skill tree almost skewed towards Master Chef! What happened to getting stronger?*)
Phaethon stood in the kitchen, feeling the familiar weight of the spatula in his palm, his heart surging with heroic spirit: Finally! From this day forward, those days dominated by the sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, firewood, rice, oil, and salt in the kitchen, he would definitely no longer...!
"Phaethon—!" A clear, slightly lazily urging voice pierced through the kitchen curtain. "Where’s the custom dish your Cyrene ordered? Why isn’t it served yet? My stomach is completely flat~ ♪"
"Coming, coming!" Phaethon instantly switched back to chef mode. With a flick of his wrist, the wok hei blood, and the final, temptingly colored "Secret Recipe Sweet and Sour Golden Tenderloin" landed perfectly on the plate.
He carried the plate quickly out of the kitchen. "Cyrene, don’t rush. A good al isn’t afraid of being late."
Cyrene was resting her chin in her hands, sitting on her exclusive window seat, her pink hair glowing softly in the afternoon sun. Seeing Phaethon erge, her eyes lit up, a sly curve gracing her lips.
"Now you tell not to rush? Who was it that pestered about learning the art, asking eight hundred tis a day, ’Can you do it today, Cyrene?’, ’How’s your progress, Cyrene?’ Hmm?"
Her feet swung playfully under the table, radiating smug revenge. "These past few days, I’m going to ’boss you around’ properly a few tis~"
"And," she lifted her chin slightly, like a proud little chira, "It’s all thanks to your Cyrene’s extraordinary talent that I managed to grasp a tiny bit of ’Echoes of Ages’ without even finishing all those long-winded, super sleep-inducing theoretical courses in the Sanctuary!"
"Though it’s still far from recreating grand historical scenes, at least replicating a few fragnts of specific individuals’ pasts is barely achievable now! Little Phaethon, aren’t you going to thank your Cyrene? Who else would take such unreasonable, rushed requests so seriously besides ? ♪"
"Yes, yes, thank you, Cyrene. Cyrene is the best!" Phaethon placed the aromatic tenderloin before her, served her rice, his smile holding genuine gratitude and... a trace of barely detectable excitent.
(Phaethon: *Just thinking about what I’m going to say later makes want to laugh.*)
He looked Cyrene up and down, feigning surprise. "But... speaking of which, Cyrene, have you... gained a little weight recently?"
"Ahhhhh— Phaethon!" Cyrene instantly bristled, like a can whose tail got stepped on. "If you don’t know how to speak, then don’t! I’m very popular in the Sanctuary!"
"My suitors could form a line from here to the Sanctuary’s main gate! And this is called a healthy glow! It’s the Sanctuary’s food... ahem, Ouranos’s reward for my steadfast faith!" She emphasized angrily, but two suspicious blushes colored her cheeks. "I’m ignoring you now! Hmph ♪"
...
"The Sanctuary’s forr strongest Guard Captain—Octavius. How about that? ♪" After the al, Cyrene squinted her eyes like a satisfied cat, contentedly wiping her mouth with a napkin. Her sky-blue, pure eyes sparkled with cunning light.
"According to your requirents: find a powerful enough warrior who... well, has passed away. Lord Octavius was practically a legendary figure among non-Golden Descendant warriors. His combat records and life story fill a corner of the Sanctuary archives, detailed enough."
She paused, secretly observing Phaethon’s expression, testing the waters a little: "If you’re not satisfied... we could switch to a few others. But there really aren’t many candidates, you know? After all, your Cyrene only learned a tiny bit."
"I can only manifest images of people with very detailed historical records, and there can’t be too many errors ♪" She wanted to see Phaethon’s reaction.
Phaethon’s eyes instantly beca resolute. Without the slightest hesitation, and without hiding his clear, goal-oriented purpose, he said: "No need, Cyrene. This one. I’m very satisfied. And,"
He looked directly into Cyrene’s eyes, his voice calm but carrying trust that needed no disguise, "I only need the image fragnt of the mont of his death, his passing. The clearer, the better."
Getting the answer she wanted, Cyrene nodded satisfactorily. "Alright, I’ll prepare." Although she was still very curious why only the death image was needed, since Phaethon wasn’t willing to elaborate, she wasn’t foolish enough to pry deeply into her childhood playmate’s secrets. That was his privacy.
But... Cyrene liked this feeling, that Phaethon held no defenses against her. Whatever he wanted, all his requests were stated directly, without any beating around the bush or deliberate concealnt.
Cyrene’s gaze beca profound and serious, while Phaethon held his breath, his eyes full of anticipation.
This was the thickest "thigh" he’d encountered since the Golden Finger awakened! Phaethon thought to himself, he must get a clear look at this powerful figure later!
Under their focused gazes, the outline of a figure shifted from virtual to solid, rapidly taking shape: Sturdy, solid, reliable... None of these adjectives seed to fit the erging figure...
While Phaethon was still stunned, the elderly figure on the bed in the illusion... *crick*... died.
The illusion vanished.
Phaethon: 0_O
Cyrene: ˃ʍ˂
Because it was so brief, Phaethon didn’t even get a clear look at his face.
Silence was the bridge tonight.
Phaethon looked innocently and bewilderedly at Cyrene’s sweaty forehead, then at the spot where the old man’s illusion had disappeared.
Finally, the Golden Finger couldn’t take it anymore.
(Golden Finger: *Why am I the only normal one here?*)
[Detected complete cessation of vital signs within observation range.]
[Core Protocol Activated.]
[Individual’s ’Vital Signs’, ’Core Abilities’, ’Spirit Brand Fragnts’ collection complete.]
[New ’Folder’ created. Abilities can be freely utilized.]
[Please na the new folder ______.]
The Golden Finger is as reliable as ever...
Na the folder Octavius.
Phaethon glanced at Cyrene, who was already looking sowhat guilty, hands behind her back, starting to swing her feet. "You worked hard... Cyrene. I suppose bossing around these past few days has drained all your strength and ans..."
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