ALL MAKER

Angel Feast 2

"This kinda feels like a tuxedo," he said, adjusting his cuffs.

With a small, approving smile, she took a step back. "Hm... It suits you," Then, her expression shifted, and she gestured forward. "Now, get to work."

"Right now?" he asked with a hint of annoyance.

"Right now!!" she ordered.

"Sighs...alright."

It's good that it is fall season, or I would be sweating in these heavy cloths.

He tugged at the collar of his layered outfit, letting out a sigh of relief. "It's a good thing it's not summer, glancing up at the crisp, cool sky. If it were any warmer, I'd be sweating through these heavy clothes.

I really don't like summer.

"So where should I start?"

"A waiter's job is to greet and seat guests,Handling Payments, introduce the menu, take orders, and serve food and drinks accurately and politely."

"Do you expect me to do all that?"

"Do you expect me to give you salary?"

He narrowed his eyes and she mirrored his gaze without hesitation. Their expressions tightened, turning their shared glance into an unspoken challenge. In an instant, it was a silent, unwavering standoff-a staring contest neither was willing to lose.

His eyes began to sting, and his resolve wavered as he fought to keep them open. But her gaze remained steady, unwavering. Finally he blinked, breaking the spell. She had won.

"So what is currency here and how much I'm getting paid." he asked with a sigh.

"The currency is simple
100 bronze = 1 silver
100 silver= 1 gold"

"Your payment will be 20 silver, that's more than enough with place to live and with food."

"What can I even buy with that?" he asked.

"I'll show you the market later and ask my dad if you need help.He is in the kitchen washing dishes probably."

She made her way upstairs to her room,her footsteps soft against the creaking wooden floor.

So he is the dish washer here, alright.

He started his job as a waiter, wearing the neat uniform with a mix of hope and nerves. As he approached each table, he put on a polite smile, doing his best to get everything right.

"Do I really have to do this every day?" he asked himself, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice as he glanced at the task before him.

When he carried the plates to the kitchen sink, he once again came face-to-face with Zoey's father who was washing the dishes.

He noticed the solid build of Zoey's father, his muscles defined and taut, hinting at years of hard work or dedication to physical strength.

Did he made those muscles by washing dishes.

"Oh, hey," Zoey's father said, his voice warm with gratitude. He gave a small bow, his hands pressed together in respect. "Thank you for saving my daughter."

At this point I feel bad for not being able to save her but she is literally upstairs.

Meanwhile, as she sat in cross-legged, deep in her meditation and focused on controlling her mana, a sudden sneeze broke her concentration. The small, unexpected disruption caused a flicker of red energy to ripple around her, momentarily unsettling the flow she had worked so hard to steady.