Chapter 8: Date With Healer Hart
Classes ended and I made my way to the infirmary.
I hadn’t forgotten the date.
The hallway outside was empty. Late afternoon light came through the windows in long yellow slats. I pushed the door open without knocking.
Hart was standing by the front desk, packing her bag.
She’d changed into blue jeans, fitted enough to show the shape of her legs, the meaty curve of her thighs filling out the denim.
A cream sweatshirt, a tan coat folded over her arm.
Her hair was down now, loose around her shoulders.
She looked clean and well put together. She glanced up when I came in.
"You look good." I stopped in the doorway. "Really good."
She didn’t answer. Just adjusted the strap on her bag.
"Ready to go?"
She nodded. Then her eyes settled on mine and held.
"You’re telling me what happened tonight, Ash. All of it. Or this is the last meal we share."
I laughed.
"I’ll tell you. Promise."
She studied me for another second, decided to believe me for now, and walked past me out the door.
The System chimed before we hit the corridor.
[CHOICE A: Take her to Maison Volante. Reward: E-Rank Storage Ring.]
[CHOICE B: Take her to any street vendor. Reward: +1 Vitality.]
[CHOICE C: Take her home. Reward: Loss of {Tempered Channels}.]
I picked A before the screen finished loading.
Maison Volante was going to gut my weekly allowance. The previous Ash had a savings line set aside for emergencies, maybe five thousand if I drained it. The dinner would take most of that.
An F-rank storage ring on the open market started at a hundred thousand. An E-rank ran higher.
I’d eat instant noodles for a month and call it a bargain.
We pulled up in front of Maison Volante.
The building sat on a quiet corner, glass front, wrought iron lanterns flanking the entrance, the name etched in cursive gold above the door. A valet in white gloves opened a town car at the curb. Inside, through the glass, soft amber light caught on crystal and dark wood.
Hart’s face darkened.
"What is this?"
"A restaurant."
She turned to look at me. "I know it’s a restaurant, Ash. I mean why are we here. This place is expensive, and I’m not paying for the meal you invited me to."
"Who said you’re paying?"
"I—"
"I am."
I held out my hand.
She looked at it for a second. Then she took it, her fingers slipping into mine, warm and a little hesitant.
"Let’s go in."
I led her through the door. The host behind the lectern straightened the second he saw us, his eyes doing a quick read of my face, my uniform underneath the coat, and Hart at my side. Whatever he calculated, he came down on the side of professional warmth.
"Good evening, sir, madam. Do you have a reservation?"
"Rowan. Two."
He checked the screen, nodded, and gestured to a second waiter who appeared at his shoulder.
"Right this way."
The waiter led us through the main floor, past tables lit by single candles and couples speaking in low voices, to a corner booth by the window with a view of the lit-up plaza outside. The waiter tried to pull the chair out for Hart, but I didn’t let him. "It’s okay, I will handle it." I pulled the chair for her, inviting her to sit down with a gentle smile on my face.
She sat carefully, smoothing the lap of her coat over her thighs.
The waiter laid two menus on the table.
"Would the lady care for sparkling or still?"
"I’ll have still."
We looked over the menu.
Hart picked something modest. Pan-seared sea bass with lemon butter. I ordered the wagyu with truffle reduction and a side of roasted vegetables, mostly because I wanted to find out if it lived up to the price tag.
The waiter wrote it down and disappeared.
The food came fast. Faster than I expected for a place this expensive. The plates arrived on white porcelain wide enough to fit a small painting, the portions smaller than my fist, the smell hitting me before the waiter even set them down.
I cut into the wagyu first.
The meat parted under the knife like warm butter. I put a piece in my mouth and stopped chewing for a second.
It was better than anything I’d ever tasted back on earth. Smoky, soft, rich enough that I felt it in my chest. Whatever the previous Ash had been eating his whole life, it wasn’t this.
"Worth it," I muttered.
Hart smiled into her glass.
Across the table, she ate the way she did everything else, with control.
Small bites, slow chews, her napkin folded across her lap. Every once in a while she’d glance up at me over the rim of her glass, eyes patient, waiting.
I smiled back at her and kept eating.
She set her fork down halfway through the meal and leaned back.
"Ash."
"Yes, Ma’am."
"You’re stalling."
"I’m eating."
"You’re enjoying watching me wait."
"That too." I cut another piece. "But mostly the food."
Her mouth twitched at the corner. She picked her fork back up and went back to her sea bass without pressing further.
I set my knife and fork down across the plate.
"That was good."
I leaned back in the chair, exhaling.
"That was really good. I think I just ruined every other restaurant for myself."
Hart chuckled softly.
"How was yours?" I asked.
"Lovely." She set the glass down. "The sea bass was perfect."
"Good." I picked up my own glass and took a sip. The wine was something I couldn’t pronounce. It tasted like it cost what it cost. "Now."
Her eyebrow lifted.
"You’ve been patient." I swirled the wine. "I’ll give you that."
"Ash."
"I’m not F-rank anymore." I kept my voice low. "I’m not D-rank either. My body’s still adjusting. My core hasn’t fully stabilized yet."
Her hand paused halfway to her glass. "You mean..."
