Chapter 127: No Menu, No Mercy

Mochi spotted them the moment they stepped out of the car.

"Scaley Daddy!" he called out, loud enough for every valet and passing pedestrian to hear.

"And my favorite Kane-chan!"

Kane wanted to sink straight into the pavement as heads turned.

The valets tried to hide their smirks behind professional masks, but their amusement was obvious.

Cyrus’s expression could have frozen lava.

Mochi sauntered over, completely oblivious to the mortification he was causing. His eyes immediately zeroed in on Kane’s throat.

"Oh my," he purred, "what do we have here?"

Kane’s hand flew to the pendant protectively.

"It’s just jewelry, Mochi."

"Just jewelry?" Mochi’s grin was wicked. "Interesting choice of jewelry."

Mochi leaned closer to Kane, his voice dropping to a whisper that wasn’t actually quiet at all.

"Did Scaley Daddy buy that pretty little thing for you?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he gestured at Kane’s pendant.

Mochi preened, adjusting his own elaborate collar—thick black leather studded with silver spikes and what looked like genuine gemstones.

"Don’t judge, Kane-chan. It’s high fashion now. Very avant-garde."

He struck a pose.

"Though yours is much more... meaningful."

"Okay...shall we head inside?" pleaded Kane.

"Of course, this is going to be such a fun evening." Mochi clapped his hands together, delighted.

The hostess led them through Kagura’s pristine interior, past tables where patrons dined in hushed reverence.

The space was all clean lines and subtle lighting, with pale wood and stone surfaces that whispered wealth.

Kane’s eyes widened as they walked.

No colorful menus cluttered the tables. No prices anywhere. Just elegant place settings and the soft murmur of sophisticated conversation.

"This is..." Kane breathed, taking in the minimalist perfection.

"A massive upgrade," Mochi finished, sliding into the private room behind them.

His leather jacket looked wildly out of place against the refined backdrop. "And I thought our last sushi place was fancy."

The hostess bowed gracefully.

"Chef Yamamoto will prepare tonight’s selection personally. Please enjoy."

Kane settled onto the cushion, still marveling at their surroundings.

The private room featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, ambient lighting that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves, and a table carved from a single piece of black walnut.

"No menu?" Kane asked, though he already suspected the answer.

"Omakase only," Cyrus confirmed, adjusting his cuffs. "The chef decides what we eat."

Mochi rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"So," he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "what’s the occasion? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to experience whatever culinary magic happens in a place like this, but you two don’t drop serious money on me unless you need something."

Kane shifted uncomfortably on his cushion.

"Can’t we just want to treat a friend to a nice dinner?"

"Kane-chan, please. I can smell desperation a mile away." Mochi waved a dismissive hand.

"Last time you bought me expensive sushi, you were hunting for the Midnight Chalice. The time before that, it was information about those trafficking routes."

Cyrus remained silent, watching Mochi with calculating eyes.

Mochi’s grin widened.

"So what kind of rare artifacts are we looking for this time? Something ancient? Something dangerous? Something that’s supposed to be buried in some forgotten tomb?"

He gestured grandly at their opulent surroundings.

"Because judging by the venue upgrade, whatever you need must be pretty important. Spill it, boys. What’s got you desperate enough to bring me to the fanciest restaurant in Feilun?"

Kane glanced at Cyrus, seeking permission to speak.

Then he stopped himself. Why was he looking for his approval?

"We’re looking for a healing shard," Kane said directly, meeting Mochi’s curious gaze.

"Something with regenerative properties. Have you heard of anything like that?"

Mochi’s eyebrows shot up, his playful demeanor shifting to genuine interest.

"A healing shard? Now that’s specific." He leaned back against his cushion, fingers drumming against the table.

"Most things I deal with are the destructive variety— explosives, banned weapons, and maybe the occasional cursed trinket that makes people do embarrassing things."

Kane felt his stomach sink.

"But," Mochi continued, holding up one finger,

"I did hear whispers about something called the Mercy Fragment. Supposedly part of some ancient healing artifact that got shattered centuries ago."

Cyrus straightened almost imperceptibly.

"Where did you hear this?"

"Underground network," Mochi said with a shrug.

"You know how information flows in my circles. Someone’s always looking for something, and someone else always claims to know where it is."

Kane leaned forward eagerly.

"Do you know who might have—?"

Just then, a waiter glided into their private room, carrying an elegant black lacquered tray.

"Our first course," he announced with a respectful bow.

Mochi immediately held up his hand, cutting Kane off mid-sentence.

"Rules are rules, Kane-chan. Food first, then talk."

Kane’s mouth snapped shut in frustration, but he knew better than to argue with Mochi’s dining etiquette.

The waiter placed delicate portions before each of them—paper-thin slices of wild yellowtail topped with microgreens and a single drop of aged soy reduction.

Each piece was the size of Kane’s thumb, arranged like tiny works of art on handcrafted ceramic plates.

More waiters appeared in silent succession, presenting course after course.

Wagyu beef, seared for thirty seconds. Served with a quail egg yolk cured in sea salt for three days

Uni so fresh it practically melted on contact with their tongues, paired with crispy nori that dissolved into oceanic bursts of flavor.

Each portion was exquisite but impossibly small, leaving Kane simultaneously amazed and slightly hungry.

The presentation made their previous omakase look like fast food in comparison.

Cyrus accepted each course with appreciation, while Mochi’s eyes grew wider with every plate.

"This," Mochi whispered after tasting something that might have been caviar mixed with gold flakes, "is what gods eat for breakfast."

Eighteen courses later, Kane sat back with his hand pressed to his stomach, eyes wide with disbelief.

The final course—a dessert that looked like a miniature zen garden complete with edible stones made from dark chocolate—had left Kane speechless.

Cyrus had spent more time watching Kane’s reactions than eating, savoring each moment of wonder that crossed his face.

Kane’s genuine amazement at luxury never failed to captivate him.

"I can’t believe I’m full," Kane admitted, patting his stomach. "Those portions were tiny, but somehow..."

"Quality over quantity," Mochi declared, stretching like a satisfied cat.

He dabbed his mouth with the silk napkin, then fixed them with a calculating grin.

"Now then. Back to business."