Adrian narrowed his eyes slightly, as though trying to read her expression.
"...For me?"
Amelia, catching the seriousness in his tone, could not help but laugh. She waved a hand dismissively.
"All right, don't take it so seriously. I was only joking."
She twirled a finger idly, though her eyes still held their brightness.
"In truth—I wanted to spend some time working in France, to experience life here."
"And then I saw your post." She gave him a quick wink. "I thought, since I'm in Paris already, why not come find you—and perhaps lend a hand if you need it."
Adrian lowered his gaze, watching her over the rim of his cup.
"Help? You?"
Amelia raised an eyebrow, feigning indignation.
"Why not? I'm an Imperial College graduate in Environmental Engineering. My practical skills are excellent."
"That's laboratory work," he said evenly.
"Laboratory, kitchen, front-of-house—still hands-on," she countered, unruffled. "Reception, service, even bookkeeping—your choice."
Adrian took a slow sip of coffee, then asked, almost as an afterthought,
"So… you've been following my social media all this time?"
Amelia froze. The smile slid from her lips.
"You've only just realised?" Her voice carried a note of reproach. "I've been sending you messages ever since you opened that account. But—"
She broke off with a shrug, as if to downplay it.
"You never replied."
Adrian's hand paused on the cup.
He thought of the endless flood of messages in his inbox, of how he had stopped opening them long ago. The thought of Amelia, waiting unseen among them, struck him with an unexpected pang of guilt.
"...I'm sorry," he said quietly. "There were too many. I never went through them properly."
Amelia pressed her lips together, staring down at her cup without a word.
Adrian sighed softly. So this is on me.
To break the silence, he cleared his throat.
"...Shall we take a walk? It's good weather."
Amelia looked up at him. Though still faintly sulky, she nodded. "Fine."
They walked side by side along the Canal Saint-Martin. Early summer light danced across the water, and the cool breeze carried the scent of the river, softening the air between them.
Amelia wandered along the cobblestones, hands clasped behind her back, occasionally kicking a stray stone.
Adrian glanced at her, then asked,
"When you said you wanted to help—were you serious?"
She turned to him, mildly surprised by his tone. Her smile softened. "Of course. Did you think I came here just to pass the time?"
Adrian stopped walking, his gaze steady.
"You've only just arrived in France. Surely you have other priorities. Working in a small restaurant like mine might hold you back. It could even affect your career."
Sunlight glimmered on the canal, casting a thoughtful shadow across his face.
Amelia stopped too, folding her arms.
"Are you worried about me?"
"I'm being realistic."
She looked at him for a moment, then smiled.
"You really haven't changed."
Adrian tilted his head slightly. "Meaning?"
"You still want to map out other people's paths." She shrugged. "But I've made my decision. Whether it's worth it—that's for me to judge."
Adrian held her gaze a moment longer, then gave a small nod.
"Very well. But on one condition."
She raised a brow. "Go on."
"Three rules," he said, his tone firm. "Work is work. Life is life. At work, you follow instructions—"
He paused, his look meaningful. "—and no playing the heiress."
Amelia blinked, then grinned.
"Excuse me? You think I can't handle myself?"
She took a few steps ahead, turning to face him with mock indignation.
"I've lived in more countries than I can count. Seen more people than you might imagine. If you think I'm some fragile little princess, then you don't know me at all."
Adrian's lips curved in the faintest smile.
"Good."
He stopped, hands in his pockets.
"Then, Amelia Clarke—you're officially employed."
Amelia blinked, then broke into a bright smile.
"Oh? That quick? I thought you'd need more time to think."
"Your salary will be at market rate," Adrian continued, businesslike. "Meals included."
"Not bad," she said, arching an eyebrow.
"But accommodation is your responsibility."
Amelia sighed theatrically.
"Ah, so no lodgings."
"You could always use the staff quarters," he said dryly.
Her interest perked up. "You have quarters?"
"The storage room downstairs."
"..."
She shot him a mock glare, then laughed. "Fine. You win."
Stretching, she added, "Oh—and I'm signing my lease today."
Adrian glanced at her. "Already?"
"Of course. It's just by your restaurant. Less than twenty metres."
Adrian's brow arched. This was no last-minute choice—she had planned this.
He looked at her knowingly.
Amelia met his gaze without the slightest guilt, only smiling with a mischievous "heehee."
"Caught me."
Adrian gave a quiet hum and said no more.
"Go sign it," he said at last.
She nodded briskly. "And you?"
"I'll draft your contract."
Her brows lifted. "Efficient."
"You've made your choice. It should be formal."
They agreed to meet later.
"This afternoon at my hotel?" she asked.
"Fine. I'll help you move."
Her smile warmed. "Deal."
She waved and left, while Adrian returned to the restaurant.
That afternoon, Adrian walked into the hotel lobby carrying a neatly bound document.
Amelia arrived at the same time, clearly fresh from signing her lease.
"Punctual," she quipped, shaking out her golden hair.
Adrian held up the folder. "Your contract."
She took it, flipped through—and froze.
"Wait—€2,400?!"
She looked up in disbelief. "You're serious? That's far higher than the usual pay for a server."
"You're not merely a server," Adrian replied calmly.
"Oh?"
"In the restaurant's early stage, you'll handle both front-of-house and management. Effectively half a manager." He paused. "Your pay reflects that."
Amelia studied him, then gave a soft laugh.
"You are generous with your staff."
"Competent staff deserve it."
Feigning thought, she smiled. "Then I'll work hard enough to earn it."
Without hesitation, she signed.
"So quick?" Adrian remarked.
"Of course. Twenty metres to work, above-market pay, meals included—this job was made for me."
Adrian chuckled lightly. "You do know how to bargain."
At that moment, the familiar chime sounded in his mind.
[Chef God System]
Task Completed: Recruit at least one qualified server for the restaurant.
Reward Unlocked: Mystery Dish Mastery — Golden Egg Fried Rice (Mastery Level).
Golden Egg Fried Rice.
The name alone conjured memories of the fragrant, golden grains he had eaten as a boy on Shanghai's streets. Yet this would not be ordinary fried rice—not if the system had given it to him.
Adrian closed the contract and glanced at Amelia, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Perhaps this would be the restaurant's first signature dish.
They packed her belongings at the hotel and loaded them into his car.
When Adrian shut the boot, Amelia eyed the understated yet imposing Mercedes G-Class and let out a whistle.
"Well. Driving a G-Wagon. Someone's doing well."
Adrian gave her a sidelong glance. "Apart from the car and the building, I'm hardly wealthy."
She blinked. "What?"
"If the restaurant doesn't earn enough in two months, I might not even keep it."
The playfulness faded from her face, replaced by something more serious.
Adrian shut the door and added lightly, "So don't think you're just helping out. You're on a generous salary—you'd best deliver."
Amelia regarded him, then smiled.
"Fine. Let's see if we can keep it afloat."
Her words left a brief stillness between them.
Adrian gave her a small, almost stiff smile—an unfamiliar attempt at reassurance.
"Don't worry. I'm confident we'll succeed."
His voice was quiet, but steady, like a promise.
Amelia leaned back in her seat, smiling faintly.
"Then I'll believe you. Just this once."
By the time he had carried her belongings into her new flat, night had fallen. Streetlamps glowed along the canal, their light trembling on the water.
Adrian returned to his restaurant, sliding the key into the lock, when light, quick footsteps approached behind him.
"I'm back."
Amelia breezed past him into the unfinished dining area, sitting as though she owned the place.
Adrian gave her a dry look. "Now what?"
"Dinner," she said simply, propping her chin on her hands.
Adrian sighed, rubbing his forehead with a quiet laugh. "You're impossible."
But then another thought came to him. Perfect.
The Golden Egg Fried Rice—the system's latest gift—needed testing. And a second palate would help.
He looked at her, lips curling into a faint smile.
"Actually, you're just in time. I've a new dish to try. Tonight, you'll be my first taster."
Amelia's eyes lit up, and she leaned forward with barely restrained excitement.
"Wow. That sounds promising."