The morning hours flew by in a flurry of activity.
The steady clacking of keyboards was occasionally broken by the low murmurs of Dan Heng and Bronya, and the rustling of pages as they rapidly flipped through technical documentation.
There were also Kiana's dissatisfied remarks, "Oh, the lighting and shadows aren't right here," and Mei's gentle suggestions, "Wouldn't it be better if we adjusted it like this?"
Stelle and March 7th had their heads almost pressed together over a single screen, pointing at games currently on the market.
From time to time, arguments would erupt: "How about this!" or "That's too cliché!"
Shinji, meanwhile, was completely absorbed in his own world. He was organizing the notes on his laptop while also conceiving several key scenes for the prologue—the rooftop meeting at Chiba Academy. He jotted down design points, such as the stunning arrival of the Hyperion.
His pen tip moved rapidly across the paper, occasionally pausing as he frowned in thought, before continuing again.
Until an impossible-to-ignore, extremely alluring aroma wafted from a corner of the office, gradually spreading and reaching the nostrils of everyone engrossed in their work.
"Grumble…"
It was unclear whose stomach growled first, but the sound acted like a signal.
Kiana was the first to jerk her head up, her blue eyes shining brightly as she sniffed hard. "What's that smell? It smells so good!"
Mei had already left her seat at some point and was busy beside a small table near the office window.
Somehow, a portable induction cooker and a small pot had appeared there, along with several crisper boxes filled with washed ingredients.
Bronya stood nearby, holding a kitchen knife, deftly slicing carrots into thin, even rounds. The da-da-da rhythm was steady and precise.
"Mei! Bronya! What delicious food are you making!"
Kiana, like a cat catching the scent of fish, immediately darted over.
"Lunch."
Mei didn't even look up, focusing on the bubbling soup in the pot. She tasted a bit with a small spoon, then took the sliced carrots from Bronya and added them in.
"I noticed everyone has been working hard lately, and takeout isn't nutritionally balanced. So I brought some ingredients. Bronya is helping me prepare them."
Bronya hummed in acknowledgment, her hands not stopping as she processed the green vegetables nearby. Her movements had a strange sense of rhythm—efficient and quiet. They formed an inexplicable harmony with Mei's gentle, focused demeanor.
"Wow! Long live Senior Mei! Long live Senior Bronya!"
March 7th cheered as well and ran over, gazing longingly into the pot.
Although Stelle didn't shout, her feet moved involuntarily, her gaze locked tightly onto the ingredients—as well as the rolled omelet Mei had taken from another insulated bag. It looked soft and delicious, garnished with green onions.
Dan Heng also stopped typing, took off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, and looked toward the steaming pot. The lines on his face seemed to soften slightly.
Shinji finally snapped out of his storyboard-filled mind, his stomach belatedly beginning to protest. Watching that heartwarming (albeit in a strange location) cooking scene, fragments of memory surfaced.
It seemed… back when the Studio's conditions were slightly better and everyone didn't have to work overtime so much, Mei would occasionally bring ingredients over, teaming up with Bronya—who was skilled at precise food preparation—to make a simple lunch on this small office table.
The taste was always excellent, instantly soothing the body and mind tormented by overtime.
Later, as the project repeatedly failed and the pressure mounted, he (or rather, the original "himself") began working overtime day and night. His schedule became chaotic, and meals became mere formalities. The bento Mei brought would often sit untouched until cold, and over time, she stopped bringing them. Everyone followed suit, eating various takeouts of questionable taste.
No wonder… Kiana and March 7th, these two foodies, hadn't run off despite the Studio's dismal situation. Besides inertia or friendship, Mei's occasionally revealed cooking skills were probably an important "strategic resource," right?
Shinji glanced at Kiana, who stared at the pot as if she were about to drool, and understood.
As for Stelle… Shinji's gaze fell on the gray-haired girl secretly poking the edge of the rolled omelet with her fingertip. Her tastes were peculiar; besides having a hoarding habit for "trash can" designs (there was a polished miniature metal trash can she treasured in the corner of the office), she also had a soft spot for items like "baseball bats," full of physical persuasiveness.
The original "himself" had seemingly used the nonsense of "we can design a hidden character in our future game who uses a baseball bat as an ultimate weapon" to pique Stelle's interest, which helped him rope her in. Although, looking at it now, that promise was a long way off.
"It will be ready soon. Everyone, please wait a moment." Mei's gentle voice interrupted Shinji's train of thought.
She and Bronya worked in perfect sync, and soon, a simple meal of two dishes and one soup, along with the rolled omelet and rice, was portioned into several clean lunch boxes. The aroma became even richer.
"Time to eat!" Kiana impatiently grabbed her share and sat on the floor in a relatively clean corner. She ate voraciously, praising it vaguely as she went: "Mmm! Delicious! Mei's cooking is still as great as ever! The thickness of the carrots Bronya sliced is just right!"
The others also collected their respective shares.
Dan Heng said thank you and carried his lunch back to his seat to eat quietly.
Stelle and March 7th squeezed together, eating while quietly arguing about how to improve their meals today.
Bronya took her lunch box to her corner, eating in small, careful bites.
Mei gently placed the last portion—the most generous one—in front of Shinji.
"Captain, thank you for your hard work. Eat up." Her voice was soft.
"Thank you, Mei."
Shinji looked at the meal before him, a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate, with green onions carefully garnished on the rolled omelet, and felt a slight warmth in his heart. He picked up his chopsticks and tasted the beef brisket. It was stewed until tender and flavorful, with the sweet and sour tomato perfectly neutralizing the greasiness.
A warm feeling spread from his stomach throughout his body, dispelling some of the fatigue from staying up late.
He looked up, watching everyone in the cluttered, dilapidated office quietly or noisily enjoying this simple yet thoughtful lunch. There was no fancy restaurant, no comfortable dining table, but in that moment, a certain close bond—like that of "companions" or even "family"—seemed tangible in the aroma of the food.
Kiana swallowed the last mouthful of rice with satisfaction and patted her stomach. "Ah—I'm alive again! Mei, make more of that rolled omelet next time! Bronya, could you slice the carrots a little thinner?"
Bronya lifted her eyelids to look at her, said nothing, and silently picked up the remaining two slices of carrots from her own lunch box, placing them into Kiana's.
"Hey! That's not what I meant!"
"Waste is bad," Bronya said calmly.
Mei covered her lips and chuckled softly.
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