Dave had meticulously nned every detail of the meal, ensuring that each dish would be something Hera would love.


    He even went so far as to hire an internationally renowned chef with a culinary style reminiscent of Hannah’s, crafting a fusion of vors from various countries to impress her.


    A top-tier patissier was also brought in to create desserts that not only tasted divine but also looked magical.


    The entire theme of the lunch revolved around fairytales and princesses, so when the appetizers arrived, they were as enchanting as they were delicious—delicate bites that seemed straight out of a fantasy.


    The presentation was nothing short of dreamy and magical. The dish appeared to be a simple pot filled with loose soil, but when warm water was gently poured over it, something extraordinary happened.


    A mist began to rise, giving the illusion of a snake-like figure emerging from the pot, creating an enchanting fairy-tale atmosphere. It was likely the effect of dry ice hidden beneath, adding to the spectacle.


    Slowly, the "soil" began to shift, and tiny mushrooms and flowers started to bloom right before Hera’s eyes. She couldn’t help but smile, captivated by the whimsical disy unfolding before her.


    To Hera, it felt like watching a magic show unfold. The waiter, noticing her delighted reaction and radiant smile, couldn’t help but feel his own heart flutter.


    As the flower slowly rose from the soil, transforming into a fully blossomed beauty, it was as if the entire process of growth—from seed to bloom—was being revealed right before their eyes.


    The elegance and wonder of the moment made the experience all the more captivating, leaving everyone enchanted by the delicate transformation.


    "This soil is crafted from a blend of coconut sap and chocte powder," the waiter exined, his voice smooth and engaging.


    "The mushrooms are real, coated in a glossy ze to give them that perfect shine, and they’re filled with a savory soup. As for the flowers, they’re not real but are intricately designed by our chef using vegetables."


    "After shaping them, we dry them to create a curled appearance, allowing them to hide under the pot. Once they encounter warm water, they expand beautifully, mimicking the natural blooming of a flower."


    The waiter spoke with such enthusiasm that his voice asionally rose, as if he were sharing an exhrating tale. Hera leaned in, captivated by his exnation, her eyes sparkling with interest.


    Once the appetizer presentation concluded, Hera began poking at the flower with curiosity before taking a bite of the mushroom.


    Dave watched her every move intently, his gaze unwavering. He wanted to capture each moment—the glimmer in her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the joy radiating from her smile—engraving them into his memory.


    The appetizer concluded with a flourish, leaving Hera delighted with the vors. Next, the waiter presented a soup served in a pot shaped like a cauldron, still bubbling and emitting a gentle hiss. Hedled a scoop for both Hera and Dave.


    At first nce, the soup appeared to be a simple m chowder, nothing out of the ordinary, but the whimsical presentation added an air of magic to the experience.


    Or so she thought. The moment Hera took a sip, a delightful explosion of contrasting vors enveloped her pte, each note blending seamlessly to create a harmonious symphony on her taste buds.


    It wasn’t m chowder at all; instead, it was a velvety white pumpkin soup that surprised and delighted her with its richness.


    Hera let out a soft gasp after her first sip, her eyes widening in delight. The waiter had intentionally held back on the soup’s description, eager to surprise them.


    Only after witnessing Hera’s reaction did he seize the moment to exin, a satisfied smile ying on his lips.


    "This is a white pumpkin soup," the waiter began, his voice infused with excitement.


    "Rather than following the traditional method of making pumpkin soup, the chef crafted this using pumpkin essence blended with creamy milk and a medley of spices, giving it the appearance of m chowder."


    Hera nodded, savoring another sip, her eyes transforming into crescent shapes that radiated delight. Dave found her reaction both silly and captivating, and he couldn’t help but join in, taking a hearty sip of his own.


    Yet, his gaze remained fixed on Hera, keenly observing every little movement she made, like a hawk intent on its prey.


    Next came a beautifully presented dish featuring a glistening, perfectly cooked egg perched in the center of a ceramic te.


    Hera tilted her head, studying the egg with a mix of curiosity and confusion. She nced up at the waiter, seeking rification, but he merely smiled, encouraging her to dig in.


    Hera quickly realized that the waiter would likely exin after she tasted the dish, adding to the surprise.


    As she gently poked the "fried egg," she discovered it wasn’t what it appeared. The thinyer of jelly broke, revealing a luscious soup that mimicked a real yolk.


    The white, crafted from jellied bone marrow soup infused with herbs and spices, contrasted beautifully with the mild, creamy yolk, delighting her pte even further.


    This delightful culinary experience unfolded over the course of a twelve-course meal. When the main dish arrived—a beautifully presented b of A5 wagyu beef, expertly grilled over charcoal—Hera marveled at its rich aroma.


    As she sliced into the tender meat, it felt like cutting through butter. Just as she was savoring the texture, Dave stood up slightly from his chair, carefully lifting his te to exchange it with hers.


    His meat had already been perfectly cut into bite-sized pieces, allowing her to enjoy the dish without any fuss.


    Hera took her time cutting the meat, not just for the tenderness, but also to admire the dish itself.


    She pondered whether it was another clever illusion, like the previous courses, wondering if it might look one way while being crafted from entirely different ingredients.


    Her curiosity heightened the experience, making each moment feel special.


    As Hera became engrossed in admiring the dish, which resembled a work of art, Dave seized the moment to cut the perfectly cooked A5 wagyu into bite-sized pieces.


    His intention was to allow Hera to simply savor the vors without the distraction of cutting. As he worked, an unguarded gentleness illuminated his eyes—an expression he was unaware of but that didn’t go unnoticed by those nearby, including the violinist, who watched with a mix of awe and envy.


    "Dave, you didn’t have to do that. I already took a bite from mine," Hera said, her cheeks warming with a mix of bashfulness and embarrassment.


    She didn’t want toe across as if she needed help cutting her food or as if he were eating her leftovers. But Dave simply chuckled, his expression full of affection.


    He speared a piece of the perfectly cut meat from her te, taking a bite with a wide grin that said he was more than happy to share this moment with her.