Just as Olivia was still biting back the lingering flush on her face, Kafka raised his hand with casual ease and flagged down a nearby waiter.
His fingers snapped lazily in the air, like he hadn't just emotionally whiplashed her into oblivion moments ago.
"Let's order, Mom." He said lightly, glancing at her with that same calm, unreadable expression that made her want to throw her napkin at his face. "Before you melt into a puddle of blush right here at the table."
"I am not melting!" She hissed back, fixing her hair with unnecessary urgency. "I'm perfectly composed."
He chuckled under his breath. "Of course you are. So, what does my perfectly composed mother want to eat?"
"I, uh..." She shook her head quickly, trying to clear the haze. "Blueberry pancakes. With a side of bacon." Her voice dropped a little as she added, "Crispy, not chewy."
Kafka nodded, then looked up with a smile just as the waiter approached. Olivia instantly relaxed when she saw it wasn't the same waiter approaching as she didn't want to scare her once again like her son had said.
"For the lovely lady by my side..." Kafka said, voice syrupy and obnoxiously charming. "...blueberry pancakes and a side of bacon, extra crispy."
The waiter raised a brow, either amused or confused by his theatrics, while Olivia buried her face behind her menu, practically sizzling with embarrassment.
"And for you, sir?" The waiter asked politely.
Kafka leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands. "Before I order...how quick is your kitchen?"
The waiter blinked. "We've got the full breakfast prep done, sir. Everything on the menu is ready to go, shouldn't take more than a few minutes, max."
"Perfect..." Kafka said, smiling with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "Because I'm planning to order quite a lot. I hate waiting when I'm starving."
Olivia shot him a wary glance. "Kafi...how much is a lot?"
The waiter, too, braced himself. Probably expecting two or three items, a stack of waffles and some eggs. Reasonable. Human.
Kafka turned his eyes back to the menu. "Let's see..." He pointed toward the top. "Waffles. Great starting point."
The waiter nodded, pen poised.
But Kafka didn't stop there.
Instead, with deliberate slowness, he dragged his finger from the waffles at the top of the menu...all the way down to the bottom where the poached eggs were listed.
"All of them. From the top to bottom of the menu." He said cheerfully. "From waffles to poached eggs....Every single dish."
The waiter blinked in confusion.
So did Olivia.
There was an awkward pause. The kind of silence where even the air seemed to hesitate.
"Wait, sir..." The waiter coughed politely. "You mean you want waffles and poached eggs, correct?"
Olivia quickly nodded in agreement, eyes wide. "Yeah, that's what you meant, right? Just those two."
Kafka looked between them, confused.
"No? I meant what I said." He traced his finger again with mock patience. "Waffles. Omelets. Breakfast burrito. Granola bowl. Hash browns. French toast. Sausage bites. Scrambled eggs. Avocado toast. Along with the rest and yes, poached eggs."
"...From top to bottom. I want every single dish on the breakfast menu."
The waiter was frozen. "You want...every item on the breakfast menu?"
Kafka gave him an almost apologetic smile. "If that's allowed. Or is it too much? You guys alright with doing that?"
The waiter stood stiff as a pole for a second, processing the absurdity of the order, before stammering.
"No, uh, no, sir! We, we can definitely prepare all of that!" He turned to Olivia and then back to Kafka. "I just...I just wasn't sure if you'd be able to finish everything. Our portions are actually quite large. Not gourmet tiny servings, sir."
Kafka waved his hand lazily. "That's fine. I'll eat it all."
The waiter blinked again. "All of it?"
"Every last bite." Kafka said without hesitation. "No crumbs left behind."
Still dazed, the waiter nodded, notebook trembling in his grip. "R-Right. I'll get it started right away..."
He scurried back toward the kitchen, nearly bumping into a server on the way. The moment he breathlessly relayed the monstrous order, the kitchen erupted in a flurry of disbelief.
"What do you mean, everything?!" A chef shouted from the back.
The head chef himself them emerged, wiping his hands on a stained apron.
"Who in the world ordered all this?" He demanded, eyes narrowing as he peeked past the swinging door toward the dining area, catching a glimpse of Kafka, completely composed and unreadable as ever.
Muttering under his breath, the chef turned back in with a shake of his head, barking rapid-fire orders to the brigade.
Pans clanged, burners ignited, and the kitchen turned into a storm of preparation and Olivia, who had seen the entire commotion unfold from her seat, turned to Kafka with an incredulous smile.
"I get it, Kafi." She said, gently nudging his foot under the table. "You want to taste everything on the menu. Honestly, I do too. All of it sounds amazing. I'd love to sneak a bite out of every single dish."
Then her tone shifted, gentle but firm, the same one she'd use to chide a child for climbing the kitchen counter.
"But still, Kafi..." She said, narrowing her eyes slightly in a mock-scold. "You shouldn't be so greedy. Don't forget, it's wasteful to leave so much food untouched. That's not good, you know?"
Kafka tilted his head and gave her a vague look. "Wait...so even you think I won't finish it all?"
"I didn't say that!" She huffed, crossing her arms. "I didn't say you were lying or anything. It's just...that's a lot of food, Kafi. Like, a lot. Enough to feed a whole block. That's not a dinner order, that's a festival catering request."
He chuckled. "You really doubt me that much?"
She pouted. "No! I just...I mean...be reasonable."
Kafka leaned back lazily in his seat, smirking. "Relax, Mom. I wasn't joking. I really can eat all of it. I've always had a huge appetite."
Her brows lifted in quiet surprise, a small gasp escaping her lips as realization began to set in.
"I mean..." He continued. "Even back at home...the reason I cook most of the time isn't just because I like to help out. It's because cooking for me is like cooking for a restaurant."
"If I left it to Mom...she'd be stuck in the kitchen all day just trying to make enough to keep me fed. It's basically like cooking for an entire inn. The poor woman would've passed out halfway through."
Olivia's mouth parted slightly in astonishment.
"Wait, so yesterday...that massive pot on the stove...and the two pans on the side..."
"All mine."
Her eyes widened. "You mean...the food wasn't for the week?"
"Nope...Just for that evening."
She slumped back with a dazed look.
"So that's why the pantry looked like a doomsday bunker this morning. I thought it was some kind of stocking error or you two were prepping for an apocalypse, or worse, running a cult."
"There were six crates of instant noodles, an entire shelf stacked with canned beans, like a tower, three jumbo jars of peanut butter, twenty kilograms of rice, at least four family-sized boxes of cereal, and don't even get me started on the gallon jugs of cooking oil lined up like soldiers."
"I swear I even saw a suspicious amount of powdered milk and...were those industrial-sized chocolate bars?!"
"What can I say? I have a sweet tooth." Kafka laughed. "And it's not prepration for the end of the world or feeding a holy cult. Just me. Most of that stash is mine. I keep it full so I don't have to restock every two days."
Shaking her head in disbelief and realising how greedy her son was when it came to good, Olivia let out a soft laugh. "You're really a glutton, huh, Kafi?"
"Can't help it." He shrugged. "I usually snack through the day, prepped stuff, reheated meals. But today, I figured I'd go all out. Big occasion and all, since I'm going out with you."
"But is it a nuisance though?" He added after a pause, glancing at her plate. "You only ordered two dishes. Hope I'm not being too much."
Olivia shook her head immediately, eyes softening.
"No, not at all. I'm actually happy to see you eating like this."
A nostalgic expression bloomed on her face as she looked at him with a warmth that made even Kafka pause.
"Back then...when you were a child...you barely ate anything. You'd always complain about Abi's food, or whatever was served. Picky about anything you ate. But now..." She smiled, eyes shimmering faintly. "You've really grown up, Kafi."
He blinked slowly at her, quietly touched by the way she said that, so naturally, so affectionately.
Olivia's gaze also lingered on him for a moment longer than it should have, her thoughts drifting to the little boy from her memories, the one who used to wrinkle his nose and shove away plates even when a juicy, perfectly-seared steak was placed right in front of him.
And now, he was eating with such an appetite that she could hear the kitchen staff panicking in the background, their frantic voices echoing as they struggled to keep up.
It made her heart swell with pride.
'Of course he was this strong now. With a body like that, stiff, thick, powerful all over, it was no wonder...My Kafi really has been eating well, taking care of himself, and it shows.'
She thought in her mind as she admired her son's burly arm before a sudden flush crept into her cheeks as she realized she was staring a bit too long, gazing his body more than she meant to.
With a flustered glance away, she tried to compose herself, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
In his mind, however, another thread of thought trailed off.
'Maybe it's because I'm a mortal god...That alone could explain the bottomless hunger, the insatiable craving.'
'And speaking of gods...'
He glanced out the window, looking at a mother holding onto her son as they walked towards the park with smiles on their faces.
'What's going on up there, anyway?'
His mother...Evangeline...The other goddesses.
It had been a while since any new request reached him. The silence was unnatural.
His gaze lingered on the sky a moment longer as he muttered under his breath,
'Hope nothing bad's happened...'