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Chapter 241 - Waiting Room (V)
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 23:00:04 +0000 UTC“Oh, smells good,” Lukas said as he pulled up a chair to the table. “Paella. It’s been a while.”
“Oh, you know it?” Alonso looked pleasantly surprised.
“Well, of course. I’ve tried it several times. I wouldn’t say it’s in my top ten, but maybe somewhere in the top thirty or fifty. There were a few good places back in Munich, but I did try one in Spain once, during one of my aimless trips around Europe.”
“Which part of Spain?”
“I stopped by Galicia, Barcelona, and Valencia.”
“No kidding. I was born and raised in Barcelona. Where’d you go while you were there?”
“Mostly the Gothic Quarter and the beaches. Spent way too much time in tapas bars pretending to be cultured,” Lukas grinned. “Met a flamenco dancer who tried to teach me the steps. I failed. Spectacularly.”
Alonso chuckled, already warming up. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You gotta let the hips do the work. It’s not a thinking thing.”
“Not really my area of expertise,” Lukas said, waving a hand. “But hey, give me a crowded festival and a beer tent, and I’ll blend in just fine.”
“Oktoberfest, right?” Alonso grinned. “Went a couple of times. Once in Spain and twice in Melbourne. Good memories.”
“Ah, but then you haven’t seen the real deal,” Lukas replied with a knowing smile. “The one in Munich is pure chaos—in the best way. I’ve been a bunch of times. With friends, with girls, even once with my sister. That one got a bit out of hand. Leonie can be quite… adventurous, let’s just say.”
He shrugged lightly. “But that was years ago. Haven’t been drinking much lately, ever since I got into natural medicine and started travelling to remote corners of the world—which eventually brought me to the delightful plate before me.”
“Rendang, right? I think I tried it at a Malaysian restaurant once. Didn’t look exactly the same, though.”
Lukas nodded, gesturing toward the dish like a proud chef. “Yeah, rendang. Has many variations. Indonesian originally, but you'll find it all over Malaysia too. This one just... showed up, exactly how I like it. Guess The Tower really knows all about us.”
Alonso leaned in, intrigued. “Smells intense. In a good way.”
“It is,” Lukas said, already piling some onto his plate. “The kind of intense that hugs your soul and punches your mouth. There was this very nice old lady in the village I stayed that used to make it like this—same spice, same texture. It's freaky how accurate it is.”
“Odd Chiara hasn’t arrived yet,” Ayu suddenly said, shifting the flow.
“Did you tell her there was wine?” Lukas grinned.
“Well, I told her you were coming.”
“Ah, well… perhaps she can infer from that and—”
Just then, Chiara appeared.
She wore dark jogger pants and a fitted, high-neckline grey sports top. Like the others, she was barefoot, awkwardly balancing a chair in one hand and a plate of food in the other.
But her face—
“That’s a… unique hairstyle,” Lukas said, doing his absolute best to hold it together.
“Okay, just don’t say anything, please,” Chiara muttered, her voice small, eyes downcast with an unmistakable flush creeping up her cheeks.
Ayu got up and rushed toward her.
“Alonso, hold this,” she said, thrusting Chiara’s chair and plate into his arms.
“You have to be kid—”
“Don’t comment,” Ayu sent him telepathically, eyes narrowing at him.
“Ok, ok,” he replied with a grin.
“I’ll go with Chiara and try to fix this. Stay here with Lukas.”
“Got it.”
And just like that, Chiara vanished into thin air with Ayu soon after.
Alonso placed the chair and plate at the table, then sat down, biting his lip as he stared at the dish in front of him, trying his best to stay composed.
But the moment his eyes met Lukas’s slightly open jaw—and the barely-contained laughter in both their expressions—they cracked.
Laughter burst out between them, loud and helpless.
“Rice, soy sauce, and fried eggs?” Lukas wheezed, wiping his eyes. “The Tower literally scoured her memories and went, ‘Yes, this is the peak of her culinary life.’”
Alonso leaned back in his chair, hands on his head. “This is the dish you make when rent’s due, your fridge is empty, and Uber Eats cut you off.”
Lukas nodded. “This is ‘end of the world, bunker food, day 49 and morale’s low.’”
Alonso held back another laugh, covering his mouth. “Honestly, it's kind of impressive that this is seriously what she considers her favorite dish.”
“This is less of a meal and more of a coping mechanism.”
They both burst out again, trying to keep it down, knowing full well Ayu could walk in at any second.
Alonso shook his head, catching his breath. “Okay. We stop. No more. Dead serious now.”
“Agreed,” Lukas said, raising a hand in mock solemnity. “Silent admiration only. The woman survived on this and still got a full scholarship.”
“That’s power,” Alonso muttered.
“That’s scary.”
They laughed again, but let it taper off naturally, the energy settling as the topic shifted and minutes passed.
Eventually, Ayu returned, Chiara trailing just behind her.
Both Alonso and Lukas looked up, drawn instinctively.
Chiara’s hair was now cropped short—shorter even than Ayu’s. It still lacked balance, clearly uneven in spots, but compared to the earlier disaster, it was a massive upgrade.
“Looks nice,” Lukas said with a genuine smile.
The words made Chiara sigh, but she lifted her chin and stepped forward with a bit more confidence.
“Well, let’s eat,” Ayu said quickly, flashing a grin, clearly trying to keep attention moving.
“Looking forward to it. The Khao Pad smells amazing,” Lukas said, already armed with chopsticks.
Alonso focused hard, steadying his breathing, doing everything in his power not to glance at the plain white rice and fried egg in front of Chiara—or let a witty comment slip out.
Everyone sat, though Chiara still seemed slightly withdrawn, her posture a bit stiffer than usual.
Lukas inhaled deeply, then straightened in his chair. “Okay,” he said, with the tone of a man about to step on a landmine. “Experience has taught me it’s better to address the elephant in the room than pretend it’s not balancing on the table.”
He turned to Chiara. “So. This is your favorite dish? What's the story?”
Alonso choked on a sip of water and was immediately elbowed in the ribs by Ayu—hard.
He doubled over, coughing into his sleeve.
Chiara blinked, then gave Lukas a long, unreadable look. For a moment, no one spoke.
Then she sighed, not annoyed—just matter-of-fact. “What can I say… I like it.”
Lukas waited, expecting more.
Chiara shrugged. “I was always busy. Labs, papers, projects… When I was home, I didn’t want to think about food. Everything else I ate was either at conferences or during some group thing, always loud, always full of people trying to make small talk.”
She poked at the rice with her chopsticks, then gave a small smile, almost embarrassed. “But this? It’s plain. Simple. Warm. Fills you up. No effort. No one is asking about your research halfway through a bite.”
Alonso tilted his head. “So you just… like it?”
Chiara nodded. “Yeah. I like it.”
There was a brief silence, then Lukas leaned back with a smirk. “Honestly? Respect.”
Alonso grinned. “Yeah. Kinda badass, actually.”
Chiara rolled her eyes. “You two laughed, didn’t you?”
“No,” Alonso said immediately.
“Absolutely not,” Lukas added, far too quickly.
She narrowed her eyes.
Lukas held up his hands. “Okay, yes.”
Alonso nodded solemnly. “But only a little.”
Chiara shook her head. “Well don’t eat it if you don’t want to.”
Lukas didn’t say anything at first. Then, without a word, he grabbed his fork and the wide spoon, scooped a generous portion of the rice and egg onto his plate, and started mixing it in with the rendang he’d brought.
Chiara blinked, caught off guard.
“I never said I didn’t like it,” he said casually. “I was just interested in the story.”
Her eyes widened slightly, then softened. She looked down at her plate, hiding a small smile.
Alonso leaned over with his chopsticks, stealing a bit from Lukas’s plate. “Hey, that actually smells pretty good combined.”
Lukas nodded. “It’s got that rich-spicy-meets-salty combo. Like a weird, budget fusion restaurant, but it works.”
Ayu perked up. “Ooh, gimme some. I wanna try!”
They started trading bites—Lukas’s rendang, Alonso’s paella, Ayu’s Khao Pad, and Chiara’s rice. Plates shifted, chopsticks and forks clinked as the table turned into a casual, messy mix of flavors.
“Damn, that spice from the rendang with the egg actually goes well,” Alonso said, mouth half full. “Like, unexpectedly well.”
“See?” Lukas grinned. “Genius meal planning, Chiara. Secret weapon level.”
Chiara shook her head, but she was smiling now, a little more at ease. “It’s not that deep. It’s just rice.”
“Sometimes the best things are the simplest,” Ayu said brightly.
“Like naps,” Alonso added.
“Or silence,” Chiara muttered.
“Or revenge,” Lukas said with a completely straight face.
Everyone paused.
Lukas looked around, still deadpan. Then raised his glass. “Kidding.”
They all laughed again—lighter this time. The tension gone, replaced by shared food, warmth, and the kind of quiet comfort that made everything, even rice and eggs, feel like home.
By the time they finished eating, the table was a glorious mess—empty plates pushed aside, spoons resting lazily on napkins, and the faint lingering smell of spices and herbs in the air.
Lukas reached under the table and pulled out the wine container he'd brought earlier, holding it up with a dramatic flourish. “Right, now that our palates are fully enlightened… shall we?”
Chiara grinned. “You’ve been waiting for this moment.”
“Of course I have,” Lukas confirmed, opening the container and pouring a generous glass for each of them.
They clinked glasses, Ayu raising hers high. “To unexpected dinners.”
“To questionable hairstyles,” Alonso added.
Chiara rolled her eyes. “You said you’d stop.”
“To rice,” Lukas declared. “And its loyal companions, soy sauce and egg.”
They laughed again, softer this time, as the wine settled in and the conversation stretched out.
Chiara, swirling her glass idly, glanced over at Lukas. “So… what exactly were you doing in Southeast Asia before the Tower? You said something about remote places?”
Lukas leaned back in his chair, letting the stem of the glass rest against his lip. “Ah. That rabbit hole.”
Ayu perked up. “Wait, were you doing the ‘finding yourself’ thing or the ‘I hate cities’ thing?”
“Kind off,” Lukas said, chuckling. “I was studying natural medicine. Real roots-and-herbs stuff. I met this guy in Laos who claimed he could cure migraines by slapping people with banana leaves.”
Alonso blinked. “Did it work?”
“Honestly? Yeah. Either the headache went away, or people were too stunned to complain.”
Chiara smirked. “And that’s scientific rigor right there.”
Lukas pointed at her with his glass. “Exactly. Later I ended up in northern Thailand learning about wild ginger varieties. Nearly got poisoned once because I misidentified a root and made tea out of it.”
Ayu gasped, half-laughing. “Did you actually drink it?”
“Half a cup. Immediate regret. But now I know the difference by smell alone, so—worth it?”
“Questionable,” Alonso said.
“On-brand,” Chiara muttered.
They laughed again, wine loosening everyone up.
Then Ayu tilted her head, her eyes lighting up. “Hey, Lukas… you still have your guitar, right?”
Lukas blinked. “My—uh, yeah. I brought it. If you can call that a guitar.”
“Can you play something?” she asked, almost too casually.
He looked genuinely caught off guard for the first time that evening. “Now?”
“Why not?” Ayu grinned. “Good food, wine, friends. Feels right.”
He glanced around the table, clearly debating, then shrugged. “Alright. Why not.”
He stood up, stretched, and disappeared into thin air.
Moments later, he returned with a worn makeshift guitar slung over one shoulder, looking slightly amused. “Okay. What am I playing?”
“Something romantic,” Ayu said with a grin, leaning forward.
Lukas’s eyes widened. “Serious?”
“Totally,” Ayu nodded. “And something you can sing too, not just play.”
“Okay… okay… this is getting out of hand. I must say—I’m not a singer.”
“You told me you used to play guitar with your sister and sang along sometimes,” Chiara chimed in, casually swirling her wine.
“That… that was just the chorus. And back in high school!”
“Well, lucky us The Tower gives perfect memory recollection, right?” Chiara said with a wicked grin.
Lukas turned to Alonso for backup, but Alonso just shrugged, clearly enjoying the show.
“Alright, fine,” Lukas muttered, tuning the strings quickly. “What exactly are we going for here? Cheesy pop? Sad love ballads? Overly emotional teenage dreams?”
“An English song,” Chiara said, swirling her wine with a smug little smile. “Something everyone knows. Super cheesy. The kind you pretend not to like.”
“Something even I’ve heard in Thailand,” Ayu added with a laugh.
“Even in Thailand?!” Lukas protested. “What are we talking—Beatles? Michael Jackson? Elvis? I can’t exactly pull off a full band with just a guitar. Ayu, what English songs do you even know?”
“I… eh… Sheeran-something, I think?”
“Perfect! And you just need a guitar,” Chiara said, leaning forward, her smile widening. “And don’t even try to tell me Mr. Worldwide, Done-it-All hasn’t heard of Ed Sheeran.”
“You can’t be serious,” Lukas blinked, then groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I swear, I’m going to regret this.”
With a dramatic sigh, he adjusted the strap, settled the guitar into position, and started strumming a slow, familiar rhythm.
He took a breath.
“I found a love… for me…”
The first few chords rang out—soft, steady, surprisingly smooth.
Alonso blinked, glancing at Lukas with mild surprise, then leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, quietly listening.
Chiara paused mid-sip of her wine, brow raised. She hadn’t expected much—but what she was hearing made her hand lower slowly, her attention fixed.
Ayu’s eyes widened, her expression softening as the slightly familiar melody wrapped around them. She leaned forward, hands folded on the table, visibly moved.
“Darling, just dive right in… and follow my lead…”
Lukas’s voice carried through the room with quiet ease. He didn’t look up once, just kept playing.
Time stretched gently as the song flowed on—note after note, word after word.
And then, further in—somewhere around the bridge—another voice joined in.
“Barefoot on the grass…”
Chiara.
Her voice was soft, almost unsure for the first two words. But by the second line, it found its place—smooth, melodic, warm. The kind of voice that made people stop whatever they were doing.
Alonso’s eyes widened.
Ayu’s lips parted in surprise.
Lukas looked up briefly, visibly stunned, and smiled.
Chiara didn’t falter. She just kept singing, eyes lowered, voice steady—like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Alonso and Ayu exchanged a glance, a quiet, knowing smile passing between them.
Without saying a word, they stood up, took each other’s hand—
And began to dance.
Comments
Silver Beard
Curious- nobody has tried to message anyone else. It's like they are assuming they will be the only ones climbing the tower...ever? It would be enlightening to see them with a bit of nostalgia try to reach out to friends from home. Most would fail, but Lukas might actually be able to reach his sister.
