Fifteen minutes later, the Ancient One set down her knife and fork and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“No matter how many times I eat here, or what you serve, the taste is unforgettable.”
She let out a contented breath, feeling the muscles throughout her body subtly tremble with renewed vitality.
“And the food can even make you stronger. If it weren’t quite so expensive, I’d be tempted to turn this place into the sorcerers’ private cafeteria.”
“Oh! Then great minds think alike.”
Odin, who had been lying face-down on the table, suddenly raised his head.
Stroking his snowy white beard, he laughed cheerfully.
“I was thinking of bringing the entire Asgardian army here for their meals.”
Asgard had spent its early years warring across the Nine Realms and accumulated immeasurable wealth in the process.
It was also one of the greatest powers in the universe, with manpower and resources to spare and countless ways to make money.
Paying for an entire army to eat here?
Easy.
“You two trying to work me to death?” Evan rolled his eyes as he listened to them.
You treacherous old bastard.
You’re seriously trying to turn my restaurant into an army mess hall?
That’s crossing the line.
So what if you’re rich?
Then Evan paused.
…Okay, being rich is pretty damn useful.
“Come now, I’m only joking. Don’t take it so seriously.” Odin chuckled merrily.
There wasn’t the slightest trace of the imposing majesty one might expect from the ruler of Asgard.
He didn’t mind Evan’s jab in the least and looked every bit like an ordinary, kindly old grandfather.
Of course, anyone who genuinely mistook him for a harmless old man was in for a very unpleasant surprise.
The first time Odin had visited, he’d arrived astride Sleipnir, his eight legged steed, with lightning crackling around him.
His overwhelming presence had been as deep and boundless as an abyss, while Gungnir rested in his hand as though it might thrust forward at any moment.
He had looked every inch the mighty ruler of a realm.
Even now, Evan still found that first encounter deeply impressive.
It had been the first time he’d personally witnessed what overwhelming individual power truly looked like, and the memory remained vivid.
But whenever Evan tried to reconcile that domineering figure with the cheerful old man sitting in front of him now, his mouth twitched.
The contrast was simply too extreme.
It was enough to destabilize a man’s worldview.
Evan shook his head and tossed the stray thoughts aside.
He looked down at Odin.
“Figure out what you want to eat. I’m going to serve the table next to you first.”
There were three people sitting at that table, two men and one woman.
Ichiryu, Jiro, and Setsuno.
They came from the Gourmet World and stood among that world’s greatest fighters and master chefs.
Genuine heavyweights.
In terms of combat ability, they were by no means inferior to the Ancient One or Odin.
And unlike Odin and the Ancient One, these three had eaten their way across the Gourmet World.
They had probably seen more ingredients and chefs than Evan had eaten meals in his entire life.
They came together at the same fixed time every day, ordered a simple side dish, and spent most of the visit sitting around one table talking.
Rather than coming here to eat, it felt more like they came to reminisce.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Meanwhile, at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Nick Fury was having a very bad day.
The moment he learned that Tony Stark had returned after his disappearance, Fury immediately sent Coulson to make contact.
Tony ditched him.
Then Fury heard that the Air Force had deployed to bomb a location in the desert, with Rhodey leading the operation.
Naturally, he immediately sent agents to investigate.
They found nothing but ruins.
So Fury contacted the military and demanded to know why the Air Force had been deployed.
The military flatly refused to answer.
Fine.
S.H.I.E.L.D. and the armed forces had never exactly enjoyed the warmest relationship.
That much was understandable.
Understandable, his ass.
One irritating report after another kept landing on Fury’s desk until he seriously began to wonder whether he’d somehow offended God.
Because otherwise, why did it feel like the entire damn world had decided to make his life difficult?
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Come in.”
Fury rubbed a hand over his dark face, then instantly restored the stern, authoritative expression expected of the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.
An agent pushed open the door and walked in, placing a stack of reports on Fury’s desk.
As Fury began flipping through them, the agent started his briefing.
“Our investigation found that Colonel Rhodes received a phone call, immediately contacted senior military command, and the Air Force was subsequently deployed directly to the coordinates in question, where they carried out a saturation strike. At approximately the same time, Tony Stark and two other individuals appeared on Bleecker Street…”
Fury turned to a grainy image captured from street surveillance footage.
He studied it closely.
He recognized the man in the middle as Tony immediately.
Information on the other two individuals was attached on the following page.
The first was Yinsen.
There was plenty of information on him, but nothing particularly remarkable.
Fury skimmed through it once.
Then he reached the second person.
His eye widened.
The file contained exactly three words:
NO RECORD FOUND.
“Agent.” Fury raised the report and turned it around so the words faced the man standing across from his desk.
“Explain this.”
“Uh…” The agent, who had been reciting the report with professional precision, faltered.
“We couldn’t find any records on him. At all.”
Fury’s day somehow became even worse.
His expression remained unchanged, but his voice grew noticeably heavier.
“Nothing?”
“Uh… no, sir.” The agent blinked, then shook his head.
He was only here to deliver the briefing.
What he’d read aloud was everything they had.
“Then why the hell are you still standing here? Go find something.”
Fury closed the report with a snap, his face completely expressionless.
Once the agent left, Fury flipped through several more pages.
Then he pulled open the bottom right drawer of his desk and took out a phone.
He found Coulson in his contacts and called him.
“Hello, sir. What can I do for you?” Coulson pulled his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket.
Seeing Fury’s name on the screen, he immediately left the noisy hall and moved into a quieter corner before answering.
“Coulson, where are you right now?” Fury could hear the commotion in the background.
It sounded suspiciously like a press conference.
“Tony Stark’s press conference.” Coulson walked a little farther away from the crowd.
“Good.” Fury felt a small measure of satisfaction.
That’s my agent.
Tony had shaken him off less than half an hour ago, and Coulson had already tracked him down again.
“Keep making contact with Tony Stark. Try to get whatever intelligence you can out of him.”
Fury paused before adding another assignment.
“And there’s something else I need you to do.”
“Find a man and figure out who he is. Someone will send you what little information we have in a minute.”
Nick Fury had always believed in preparing multiple contingencies.
“Yes, sir.”
The call ended.
A message arrived almost immediately.
Coulson opened it.
Then stared.
“Uh…”
One photograph.
One address where the man had previously been seen.
That was it.
“How exactly am I supposed to find him with this?”
Boss, you really know how to hand out impossible assignments.
Coulson’s cheek twitched.
He subconsciously reached up and touched his steadily retreating hairline.
More overtime.
I wonder how much longer my hairline can survive this job.
Maybe I should try some of those Chinese herbal remedies for hair growth.
I’ve heard they’re pretty effective.
Coulson put away his phone and returned to the conference hall.
The first thing he heard was Tony Stark speaking.
“Therefore, effective immediately, I am shutting down the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries.”
Rhodey froze.
Pepper stared.
Stane panicked.
The room exploded.
And then the reporters went insane.
“Mr. Stark!”
“Mr. Stark!”
“Mr. Stark!”
Questions erupted from every direction as the crowd surged forward, microphones and cameras thrusting through the air.
Coulson looked at the sea of people before him.
Only one thought crossed his mind.
Wow.
Tomorrow’s headlines are going to be insane.