Five days later, Dravin's jaw dropped as he arrived at the AC-666 building in Amethyst Block.
Two days earlier, Mr. Lanford had notified him that the building was vacant and ready, and Dravin had immediately instructed Rubby to renovate the place according to his exact specifications.
His feet were rooted to the oak floor as he slowly spun in place for nearly ten minutes, utterly stunned. How could nearly 80% of this be done in just two days?
Even though he should have stopped being stunned by the system's power, he just couldn't shake the feeling. Things shouldn't be this convenient.
When he turned to the right, he saw a line of six round tables.
Each was flanked by four single sofas in purple-gray and white velvet.
The zigzag arrangement provided generous spacing, preserving the intimacy of each table—a key to success for every fine dining establishment, Dravin believed.
As he rotated to the left, six rows of long, oval tables were arranged linearly.
On each side sat two three-person velvet couches of the same color, topped by a central chandelier.
This vertical arrangement created a harmonious feel, perfect for large families to face each other and spend intimate quality time.
The highlight of this area was the window seating: every table ran alongside a glass window that contained a built-in mini-aquarium.
From the street, people would see only a normal window aquarium, unable to view the customers behind it.
But from the customer's perspective, they could watch colorful small betta fish swim while still catching glimpses of the alley sidewalk outside.
Dravin chuckled in satisfied recognition, this was a design he had failed to execute in his old restaurant because the building layout was inadequate.
Now, he felt as if he had stepped into his own imagination, and it was such a powerful feeling that if it were a dream, he would never want to wake up.
Dravin finally shifted, stepping aside as two workers passed, carrying a wooden wine rack. His eyes lit up when he saw the high-quality shelving that would soon protect his "baby" wines and other liquors.
He followed the workers and was once again awestruck by the open mini-bar featuring a U-shaped counter placed right in the center of the floor.
Dravin dragged over a high bar stool and sat down.
The cold marble of the bar sent a jolt across his skin.
It wasn't usual for a family restaurant to have a bar like this, but even with the mission pushing him toward "family dinner," Dravin insisted on a fine dining structure where the bar was essential.
The building's design supported this: the bar area was centrally located but partially hidden by pillars that would later be fitted with dividing curtains, keeping it visually separate from the main seating—a safe sight space for those bringing children.
A loud thud rang out from the open kitchen area behind the bar.
Dravin stood up and headed toward the open kitchen, the stage where he would perform, and where he would demonstrate his talent.
"Is everything okay, sir?" Dravin asked a worker who appeared to have dropped a hammer, hitting another worker's foot.
No one answered Dravin.
The two workers simply faced each other in silence.
The others didn't approach them either, everyone remained focused on their assigned tasks.
Dravin gulped. When the workers spun to face him in unison, he immediately regretted speaking. He should have just ignored them.
Just like the man in black delivery guy, the renovation workers were clad entirely in black, wearing black masks and black latex goggles that resembled swimming gear.
Instead of helmets, they wore hoods, again making Dravin unsure if they were human or robots.
The only difference was that this time, Dravin didn't detect the scent of rusted iron.
Then, like a comical snap in a parody, the two workers simultaneously flashed a thumbs-up at Dravin for a few seconds before instantly returning to work.
What the… What are they? Is that how they signal they're okay? Dravin was bewildered and shook his head.
Despite his confusion, Dravin carefully watched every worker install the open kitchen equipment.
Surprisingly, they were meticulous and made zero mistakes.
Dravin smiled, satisfied with the layout.
The open kitchen was a must-have for fine dining success; people loved food porn.
Having them witness the chef cook their meal directly was the ultimate satisfaction of having money.
It made the customer feel superior because of the talented chef specially cooking for them.
And obviously, in his experience, the row of stools at this counter would be perpetually filled with female customers.
The open kitchen fed directly into the closed kitchen.
If the open kitchen was the soul of the fine dining restaurant, the closed kitchen was its heart—the true battlefield.
It constantly supplied the movement of food, pumping hard and hot while the face of the restaurant appeared calm, comfortable, and cool.
Even after the restaurant closed, the closed kitchen never slept; the freezers and refrigerators had to be alive to preserve the ingredients' freshness.
Dravin paced back and forth along the freezer and refrigerator shelves, double-checking that the temperature installation matched his SOP.
After a satisfying exploration and supervision of the first floor, Dravin ascended to the second floor via the elevator. This floor was just as busy as the one below it.
Dravin had initially greedily wanted to use the entire indoor second floor as a restaurant expansion, allowing them to host hundreds of customers at once.
But that wouldn't align with the core concept of fine dining, where comfort and intimacy were paramount.
So, he settled for an outdoor expansion only. Even that was limited, able to accommodate just twenty people in three to five groups.
Just as he turned toward the outdoor area, his steps froze.
Freya was sitting there, legs crossed, beneath an outdoor umbrella.
As if feeling his gaze, she turned, staring sharply at Dravin.
Her head tilted, an unspoken command inviting Dravin to approach her table.
"Are you happy playing 'build a sandcastle' while I'm frantically chasing demons out there?" Her voice dripped with disappointment as the outdoor door slid open automatically, sending a clear message: Dravin could not afford to answer incorrectly.