May 1610 bloomed over Surat, the beachfront at the city's edge now transformed from barren dunes into a monument of ambition. The Vora Trading Company's three-story restaurant stood proud on its 10-foot elevated foundation, its whitewashed walls gleaming under the sun, sea breezes whispering through lattice screens. Completed in a mere three months, the feat was a testament to Jai Vora's meticulous planning and Anil's steady hand as the venture's face. Three hundred workers—loyal farmhands and laborers hired directly to evade guild scrutiny—had toiled under Jai's watchful eye, their hammers and chisels shaping his vision. Now, with the restaurant poised to open, those workers stood ready for the next project: a blacksmithing workshop with multiple forges to churn out blades and tools. The Emperor System, Jai's secret AI-spirit guide, buzzed with glee: "From sand to splendor in three months? You're a construction wizard, Jai. Those buttery dishes better live up to the hype, or the EIC might steal your thunder."
Jai, nine years old, smirked as he paced the restaurant's first floor, its open hall ready to seat 100-150 commoners—dockhands, weavers, travelers—bathed in the aroma of dishes yet to be unveiled. "Relax, system. The food's my ace—Surat's never tasted anything like it." His modern knowledge, a spark from Vihaan Roy's 2025 life, had fueled a culinary revolution. From the workers, Jai handpicked a dozen with sharp minds and deft hands, their knack for flavors honed under his guidance. He trained them as cooks, waiters, and staff, teaching them secrets from a future world: how to craft cheese and paneer, how to blend spices into symphonies. On a small plot near the restaurant, Jai had overseen the farming of tomatoes and chilies—crops rare in 1610 Surat—laying the groundwork for his masterpieces.
In the restaurant's bustling kitchen, Jai unveiled his creations to Anil, Leela, and his followers—Vikram, Ram, Shashi, Kali, Kofi, Amir, Sarita, Ravi, Manoj, and Annu. The air thrummed with anticipation as plates emerged: butter chicken, its creamy tomato sauce laced with butter and spice, a dish unborn in this era; butter paneer, its soft cubes swimming in a rich, fiery gravy; kebabs skewered with cumin and coriander, charred to perfection; and curries that danced with flavors Jai had memorized from future spice mixes. A small fast-food counter, a novel concept, offered kheema pav—minced lamb tucked into soft bread—and veggie pav for quick, on-the-go bites. The first floor would serve all; the second, with its silk drapes and cushioned seats for 70-80, awaited silver members; the third, with five sea-view private rooms for 20-25 elite, beckoned gold members.
Anil took a bite of butter chicken, his eyes widening as the flavors exploded—tangy, warm, unlike anything in Surat's stalls. Leela, savoring the paneer, gasped, her Wisdom marveling at the creamy heat. "Jai, this… this is magic," she whispered, her voice thick with pride. Vikram and Shashi, mouths full of kebabs, nodded vigorously, while Kali, ever stoic, let a rare grin slip. Sarita, her mind sharp with People Management, murmured, "This will draw crowds—merchants, nobles, everyone." Kofi and Amir, used to forge and blade, sat stunned, the kheema pav vanishing in seconds. Ravi and Annu, sturdy and practical, declared the veggie pav "better than festival sweets." Manoj, scribbling notes, muttered, "This will change Surat."
Anil set his plate down, his Wisdom grappling with awe. "Beta, how did you dream this up? These dishes, this counter for quick food—it's like you've seen markets we can't imagine." Jai shrugged, his Charm masking the system's influence. "Just ideas, Papa. People love new tastes, and they'll love feeling special here." Anil's heart stirred, his suspicion of Jai's "Wings of Freedom" role flickering but unspoken, locked behind his merchant's caution. "This restaurant," he said, voice firm, "will be a hit. The memberships, the floors—it's brilliant. We open in a week."
Leela clasped Jai's hand, her eyes glistening. "You're building a legacy, beta." The followers nodded, their loyalty a silent flame, each envisioning the crowds that would flock to this beacon of flavor. The system pinged in Jai's mind: "Butter chicken in 1610? You're rewriting history, kid! Quest progress: Establish Vora Trading Company, 30% complete. Guilds are still clueless, but don't get cocky."
As the sun dipped below the sea, painting the restaurant's walls gold, Jai stood on the third floor, gazing through a private room's window. The waves whispered of empires, and Vora Trading Company was no longer a dream—it was a force, ready to challenge the EIC's shadow with every bite.