“In Baalphoria, the hai’za is more commonly known as our head of state,” Lan’za explained after they had all settled themselves into the restaurant.
Their table was set on the patio of one of The Bridge’s sub restaurants, the entire structure reaching out into the Second Tide before turning towards Baalphoria and making land near Kalink. In its entirety, it housed over two dozen restaurants—all connected by exit lines—and extended almost five kilometres across the water.
It had been built less than a decade ago, the result of Halen’s parents getting to know her parents, mostly through her and Halen’s continued efforts to make each other miserable. An unfortunate result of that friendship and their mutual desire to make their children stop torturing one another? The Mhrina’s had come along with her family to an event in Seer’ik’tine.
It had been one of the rare times her entire family had gone with her father on one of his assignments, and the fact that it had aligned with the Krill’ok’gry—one of the most beautiful and enjoyable of Seer’ik’tine’s rotating celebrations, this one only occurring every eight years—should have made it all the more special. Instead, she’d been asked to show Halen around, and they’d mutually ruined each other’s nights.
Unfortunately, she was also pretty sure they’d had sex as part of an orgy. Everything was a bit fuzzy, fortunately. But also, she couldn’t quite remember—there had been a lot of people, okay? And part of the whole vibe of Krill’ok’gry orgies was the open, forgettable and yet memorable quality of them. The atmosphere of safety and freedom just allowed those who took part in it to fall out of their bodies, enjoying the sensation of being with anyone and everyone—although Emilia could only remember being with men; she didn’t consider women off-limits, but having her first experience with a girl in that sort of situation didn’t seem ideal.
That was the sort of thing she’d want to remember, if she ever met a woman who struck her fancy.
So, no, she wasn’t positive she and Halen had had sex that night. At the same time, she had this feeling that they had and that he’d been, ah… very enthusiastic? Honestly, that enthusiasm was a big part of why she wasn’t completely sure her brain hadn’t aligned his face with someone who looked similar—Halen had the colouring and facial structures found in many of the people from the region set between the Jibur Bay and Cyrenix Desert.
Regardless, Halen being
enthusiastic
in fucking her was just something her brain couldn’t comprehend. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d treated her any differently after that. Not any nicer. Not any ruder—although, if pressed, Emilia would begrudgingly admit Halen wasn’t the sort of person likely to shame her for enjoying sex. Maybe when he’d first come to their school in their teens, but she wasn’t convinced the majority of his shitty personality wasn’t a construct used to impress friends and piss off his parents. He’d moved to their school with one personality, and while he’d definitely made friends with a collection of their shitty classmates, parts of him had softened into what she assumed was closer to whatever was buried under his atrocious personality: someone who was accepting of everyone who was different, as long as they weren’t hurting anyone.
That said, he was still an ass—an ass she owed one to, after that stupid fucking prank in their last days before graduating. Recently, he had set up his company in a little office in Roasalia. It wouldn’t be too difficult to break in and—
Okay, okay. All that was beside the point. The point, rather, was the Mhrina’s owned the rights to a significant portion of the lower end of the Second Tide. Mining it was a big part of how they’d suddenly gone from being sub-30s who couldn’t afford to move to The Penns to being able to buy the elder Daymark’s estate when the old bastard died. Those mining rights had been passed down through their family for generations, but updates to their mining techniques—updates Emilia suspected had come from Halen, despite how young he would have been at the time—had ramped up the operations significantly.
In a flow of events, the Mhrina’s had ended up in Seer’ik’tine with them, talking to a young chef whose food they had adored. Said chef rambled on about wanting to start her own restaurant, where the cooks would shift between each of the nations that had embassies in the northern district. The woman had also mentioned fusion food, which was a thing in border towns and the few Free Colonies who had a long history of positive relations with a neighbour, but had somehow never become a thing in Seer’ik’tine, despite its centuries of neutrality.
Probably, it was because most of the embassies had their own, internal restaurants, and as much as the people chosen to work the embassies had to have a level of acceptance for other cultures, there was still so much animosity between everyone that only small stalls serving street food generally became popular in the northern district’s economic wards. If someone wanted to have a proper meal from whatever-nation, they usually took it as a chance to talk to their whatever-nation counterparts over a meal—the idea of seeking out that food without using it as a means to an end was ludicrous!
The Mhrina’s, however, descendants of the Grey Sands who had never bothered to hide that fact—who had raised Halen to have far more confidence in his heritage than Olivier did—had been fascinated by the idea of sharing and combining cultures more freely. By the time they were returning to Baalphoria, contracts had been signed: the Mhrina’s would offer both funding and land rights on their side of the Second Tide to the chef, while Lan’za mother—who had only recently risen to become hai’za at the time—would organize everything on this side.
Now, the transnational structure housed multiple restaurants, each catered by chefs that rotated location week by week, although the sections at each end always remained Seer’ik’tine and Baalphorian fusion restaurants. This also made it one of the rare locations that really didn’t belong to anyone. Sure, the bits of the restaurant that attached to the Seer’ik’tine and Baalphorian shores belonged to each country, but the middle section? The part that swayed gently over the Second Tide? That didn’t really belong to anyone, although the Mhrinas still managed it to some extent… as in, if there was a huge problem, the actual manager would contact them. They were pretty hands-off, from what she knew.
Maybe
it belonged to The Core, as the barren land that surrounded the towering, black walled Free Colony did. If they did consider it theirs, however, they’d never said anything of it—unsurprisingly, considering virtually no communication ever came out of the secretive Free Colony. It was a direct neighbour to Baalphoria, and yet, Emilia was almost positive more was known about the Moonlit City, thousands of kilometres to the north and only slightly less secretive.
The restaurant Olivier had chosen for them was an odd mix of Dionese and Byshire food, with the chef heavily leaning into the rich, heavy food of Byshire, rather than the lighter—if sometimes painfully spicy—fare found in the neighbouring section of the western Dionese border. It was a good example, she supposed, of how two areas that were so physically close and generally had a good relationship could be so different. A nice contrast to the occasional moment where something would be explained about Seer’ik’tine culture by Lan’za or their various guides, and then compared to Grey Sands, and even occasionally Baalphorian, culture. Their nations were physically close as well, and while it wasn’t always obvious, there were bits of culture shared between them.
Definitely, that sharing of culture could not be seen anywhere in western Dionese and Byshire food. Different vegetables, spices, sources of protein—that one was also a problem, given how heavily Byshire food relied on animal protein… which Emilia didn’t eat. While she had been able to order a dish of shuo bu, it had leaned so heavily into the
light
aspect of food from the region that pressed against the Byshire border that it was small and mostly just lightly sautéed vegetables—and not even the good vegetables! Plus, it was
technically
a fusion dish, and for some reason the chef had thought it a good idea to flavour it with some sort of seaweed. Why seaweed!? Byshire was land located and had only recently restarted diplomatic relations with most of the Free Colonies that ran up the western side of the continent!?
It was entirely baffling, and given she already knew the details of how the hai’ were chosen—something to do with birth charts and a long history of zi’huta paying
a lot
of money to have their labours induced or delayed, or the birth times of their children altered slightly, in order to bring their child into the running to become the next hai’—she was mostly just poking at it and contemplating at what point food went from fusion to just being weirdly culturally appropriative. Certainly, she didn’t think the few people she knew from this region of Dion would approve of whatever the fuck this was, but was the chef Dionese? Did that make a difference, especially if most people wouldn’t approve of this monstrosity? If they were Dionese, did the exact region they came from make a difference? Probably—Dion was huge and the food even a few cities apart could be wildly different.
Just to be petty, she sent off a message to Halen. While she didn’t like him, his parents had always been nice enough, and they deserved to know that the food in the restaurant they financed needed more oversight. Could she also have messaged Halen’s adorable little cousin? Probably, but also, annoying Halen was much preferred; he’d be forced to let his parents know, and while she didn’t know the exact details, it seemed like his parents were continuing in their disapproval of their son and his decisions—in this case, his decision to graduate and continued his work with Hail despite how he should be
taking the chance to get to know himself through his gap decade.
Honestly, she just thought they wanted to force him into the family business and his company turning into a powerhouse was not what they wanted. Too bad for them; even not knowing Halen
that
well—and certainly better than she would have liked—the guy was a fucking genius. He also loved hacking and coding, his mind just as strange and innovative as her own when it came to a subject that had been stagnant for generations.
As much as she had yet to decide on any career path—the most she knew was that she would continue coding for The Black Knot for as long as they wanted her—part of her was tempted to start her own company, just to fuck with Halen. The guy was an asshole, but the idea of competing with him for many years to come… or, better yet, just popping out with her own company decades from now? Armed with skills and functions that surpassed even his?
Fuck was that a glorious image. Just imagining the smug smile that so often quirked at his lips falling flat… or his mouth falling open in shock…
[
Halen:
why r u in s’i’t?
]
Halen was, amazingly, even worse at messaging than she was. It had been a source of confusion for them several times, when they had been forced to communicate with one another for class projects or to organize events… and the occasional—occasional!!—prank together.
[
Emmie:
my soon to be lawyer brought the class here
]
[
Halen:
tht cant b smart
]
[
Halen:
does he know ur rep?
]
[
Halen:
guess hes a lawer cn get u out… if he wants
]
[
Halen:
pbly he wont want
]
Asshole.
[
Halen:
he ddnt take bait 2b ur lawyer?
]
[
Emmie:
no
]
[
Emmie:
but he will
]
[
Halen:
our nw lawyer works 4 im
]
[
Halen:
i cn ask if shell talk 2 im
]
[
Halen:
bet shell agree if i tell er who u r
]
[
Halen:
a fan
]
Emilia wasn’t sure what to be more shocked by. Halen being… nice? Was this Halen being nice? It was certainly the more positive conversation they’d had in a long time… possibly ever. Also, how was Hail already big enough to need a lawyer? Had they done something to need one? That seemed unlikely—both of them had taken a course in laws surrounding hacking and coding in order to avoid such things. Also, this lawyer worked for Olivier? Probably, Halen meant they worked for the de la Rues, but still, what a strange twist. And the fact that the lawyer was apparently a fan of hers? Fucking weird… and probably driving Halen up the wall, knowing he had an employee who liked—
[
Halen:
she likes me 2
]
[
Halen:
havnt told er the ppl she fawns over evryd are us tho
]
[
Emmie:
why not tell he about you?
]
It was one thing for him to keep her anonymous hacking persona secret—even he wasn’t rude enough to blow her cover, even had her army of terrifying black knot friends not been behind her—but why hide his own? Sure, he’d started Hail young enough that most of his stuff had been legitimately released, but there had still been some stuff he’d released earlier, as well as odd things he’d released anonymously.
[
Halen:
well… shes rly… intense
]
[
Halen:
she has this whole… fantasy
]
That so didn’t sound good. Yet, Emilia couldn’t stop herself from asking what sort of fantasy, almost immediately regretting it when a long, very detailed fantasy involving her and Halen’s anonymous hacking personas slotted itself into her mind. It had multiple chapters.
Yeah… Emilia could understand why Halen wouldn’t have told this girl—Axelle, apparently—that he was one of the hackers she idolized and wrote smut about.
“Not sure if we should be offended she’s reversed our genders,”
she mused as she skimmed the story, halting when she realized that while she was the boy, she was also—
“Sure, but you still bottom, as the universe intended,”
Halen replied, and yeah… she couldn’t even deny that she had so little top energy she doubted she could even summon it for a partner who wanted her to top. Still, it sometimes sucked that
everyone
she’d been within a few grades of at school knew what was effectively her only sexual preference; she was into trying virtually anything else, if someone were asking.
That said! How the fuck had a random fan of her hacks determined she was such a bottom!?
Rude.
.
!
Arc 9 | Chapter 302: This Fusion Food is So Not It
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