The honey-blond boy gestures for that same waiter. "Hey, excuse me."

The waiter swiftly closes the door and heads to their table. "May I help you?"

"You allow drinking here, but not smoking?"

"No, sir. There is a strict no-smoking policy here, sir, especially with young people like you."

The whole table tilts their head to the waiter. "Why is that? Did the bar almost get burned or something?"

"Head chef says there was once a customer here, a young girl. Her mother, the lady of a big estate, personally came to fetch her. He says the estate threatened this bar to be shut for allowing her daughter to smoke. They also threatened to shut it down if word ever gets out."

"But you're telling us the story," the girl in a bun says.

"Their estate already shut down," the waiter says. "And we don't really know the names."

This is what I came for.

The waiter nods, and it is my turn to ask. "Excuse me."

"Yes?"

"I noticed, the steak always tastes the same even when I've been coming here for years now. Is your chef the same chef who has been here for years?"

The waiter grins. "Yes, sir! He has seen people come and go, and businesses rise and fall. I think he has the blessing." He falls quiet for a few seconds, then regains his cheer. "He's been in service for almost 50 years now, sir!"

"Is that so?" I feign an excitement. "I've been coming here regularly. Do you think he'd allow me to meet him after my meal?"

At this, Timmy the waiter passes by and throws an arm around the waiter I have been chatting with. "A meet and greet with Head Chef? I got this, bud." Timmy pats the waiter's arm, and the waiter nods and walks. "Care to share details?"

"Can't." He nods. "Just arrange a short meeting. No longer than five minutes, I promise."

Timmy nods that waiter nod that says they memorized your order even without a notepad.

"Also," I add, "get those students an order of steak platter." I point to the straw-haired boy's table.

"Certainly, sir." Timmy walks to the kitchen.

As I eat my meal, I listen more to the students' gossip.

"That's not true!" the dark-haired girl exclaims. "Have some respect!"

"But it's true!" The straw-haired boy is becoming distressed. "I saw it!"

"No, you didn't," the honey-blond boy chimed in.

Their nonsense drunk exchange continues on as I finish my meal. On cue, Timmy walks back to me, handing me a receipt with a timestamp; not of the time the receipt was issued, but of the time when I can enter the kitchen. I hand him back the receipt with my Mass Card, a black card marked with my signature cross issued by the Chapel. As long as the establishment is blessed by the Chapel, a Mass Card can be used as payment as much as a Chapel member wants.

I stand. Timmy looks at his watch and moves to guide me to the kitchen, holding a waiter's smile. When I enter the kitchen, the Head Chef stands waiting alone. "A Chapel member."

"I only have one question."

"Ask away."

"The smoking ban. What happened? The full story."

The Head Chef solemnly nods. "Have you heard of the estate lady and her young daughter?"

I nod.

"This young daughter had always been rumored to be the black sheep, yet her mother dotes on her. Perhaps, because she's the youngest. Perhaps, she sees herself in her. I'm not sure. But this doting led to lack of guidance. And lack of guidance led her to bad company.

"When her father sent her to the boarding school, they thought the strict policies would help her. It didn't. Bigger area and more people meant less eyes for her. She learned to smoke. She had the money; students there were tasked to pay for their own fees so parents just send them money. Until her. Now, you see those students outside? Their guardians directly pay for them now. They don't hold money in the boarding school; everything is paid for the whole semester. Food, supplies, uniforms, you name it.

"So she learned to smoke. And then she discovered opium. That thing sucks the life out of you." The Head Chef shakes his head and holds his temples with his hand. "She got kicked out and sent back home. The mother still did not scold her. She fooled around here more, until she got to my bar.

"Word already spread about how much of a black sheep she's been. Everybody already knew her. Harriette of Madame Antonnia's Estate and Monsieur Louis' Strawberries and White Patisserie. I can never forget Antonnia's threats, as if it was our fault her daughter's loose in the head." The Head Chef looks like he is ready to hit. "She yelled, 'How can you allow young women to fool around with dirty men and smoke in your bar? What will you do if something terrible happened to my Harriette? If your underground bar catches fire?'

"I wanted to scream back, 'Well, how can you allow your daughter to act like this?' But it was obvious they were trying to save face. And she did have a point. The next day rumors swirled. Not that Harriette was smoking opium, but that she was drinking with a man. Naturally, that paints a picture of a man her age drinking wine in a bar; but really, she was smoking opium with her black market dealer.

"I immediately put up new policies in my bar and restaurant that week, and in the same year, I renovated the whole building. Anyone from that estate, too, was to be refused service. When their estate fell, I immediately asked for blessing from your Chapel. That bad luck of theirs can never be saved by any protection; it's irresponsibility and neglect." He clicks his tongue in disgust and disappointment. "I heard everything went to that Harriette when Monsieur Louis died. Rest in peace. He was a good guy. But that's all wrong.

"Monsieur Louis' attorney, he was a regular here. He drank at the bar when I was bartending there. Just for a change, you know. He said, and I can never forget this, for only a drunk can say something that puts their license in danger, 'Monsieur Louis of the Patisserie, you know him? He's dying. He wants to leave everything to Marriette, the good one. He took her with him everywhere. She even bakes better than he does. I think she took over the Patisserie when he got sick. He's very sick now; he can't stand anymore but that wife of his threw a tantrum, screaming that Harriette and she has to get something too.'

"When word got out that he passed, that lawyer went away. I never saw him again. And then I heard Harriette got everything, but Marriette still stayed. She tried to help at the Patisserie, but Antonnia always pushed her away, saying, 'Stop being so selfish and leave this to Harriette.' A lot of their housekeepers and employees already left by that time. When the Patisserie, the only remaining memory of her father, fell, they made a scene on the streets. They were fighting the Chapel. The guts! Then they blamed everything to Marriette. 'You! You selfish bitch! If you only helped, if you had any respect for your father's name, you would've done something!' Marriette was through. 'YOU were the one who's been spending so much. YOU were the one who kept pushing me out. All these people know. It should've been mine!'

"Every one of us was relieved: she found her father's lawyer, got him on her side, got him to produce the original document, and she went to court. That day, when the Patisserie shut down, was also the day the court ordered the Estate to give her what is due, or give the monetary value of everything they took from her. They could not produce any more than the Estate, and even the Estate was no longer enough because it was falling. So Antonnia, I heard, negotiated hard with the Chapel. The Chapel kicked her out. People in the streets say they can only deal with the legitimate heir of the Estate: Marriette. Marriette followed the bindings of the contract to a T. She studied it. So she simply gave the Estate up to the Chapel and shook on it. She went back to court, and forced her mother and her sister to give her what she's due. They sold what little they had and gave it to Marriette. To stop her from pursuing them anymore. Then, she took her belongings with her and left. Before she left town, she personally went to all that they troubled and apologized. Such a good kid.

"I don't know where she is right now. Even if I do, I won't say. Kid already got enough trouble before she's grown. She deserves a good and quiet life. Wherever she is."

"And Harriette?"

"You said only one question. And only five minutes."

I look at him, dumbfounded. "I said the whole story. You didn't finish."

The Head Chef laughs. "Alright, alright. Harriette. Trouble is her." He looks around, steps closer, and says, "I only know that she dealt drugs. She stayed here in Hoxwell for some time, then I never heard of her again. Think she went out of town."

I nod.

He speaks louder and says, "Anyway, I don't wanna deal with trouble like that. Drugs are a disaster."

"You signed a contract with the Chapel," I retort.

"Only in it for the protection, kid." He smirks. "Anything more than that, I'm out. I mind my business and my business alone. Whatever you lot do, you do you."

I chuckle. "Thanks."

"Two questions and an overtime. I'm charging you for that. You'll have your receipt." The Head Chef points at the door.

I nod and smile. "Be my guest."

When I went back to the restaurant, Timmy the waiter hands me my receipt and card. "You're charged for extra service."

I chuckle. "Yes."

Then, the students all wave at me. "Thanks for the food, sir!"

I nod at them and say, "You're quite the entertaining lot. And you seemed to be hungry."

They all laugh. The straw-haired boy seems to want to say something, but the girl in a bun pulls him, gives him a look, and says to me, "Well, we hope you have a good night, sir."

I smile at them as I pass by them. Before I leave the restaurant, I ask the students, "What's the name of your Headmaster?"

The straw-haired boy exclaims, "Marie Antoine!"

Clever.

The whole table laughs again and teases him, pushing him here and there. "You really like the Headmaster, don't you?"

"Why don't you just go and bring flowers to her?"

"Make sure to ask her on Valentine's Day!"

I laugh and say, "Scary name. You can do better for your age." I step outside and head to the Vatican room.