The smell of grilled onions lingered in the air long after the restaurant closed. Mia Torres wiped the counter one last time her wrists aching from twelve hours of chopping stirring and smiling through exhaustion. It was almost midnight in Los Angeles the streets outside glowing with the tired light of gas stations and distant cars. Her manager had left hours ago leaving her with silence and the faint hum of the fridge. She tied her black apron tighter and sighed thinking about the rent due next week and the recipe contest she missed again.

Cooking had always been her escape not her burden. Yet somewhere between chasing tips and taking orders from people who barely looked at her the joy had dimmed. She turned off the last kitchen light and stepped outside into the cool night air. The city smelled like rain on asphalt a scent she somehow loved because it reminded her of childhood walks with her father who used to say that food tastes better when cooked after rain. She smiled at the thought then tucked her hair behind her ear and started down the narrow street toward her apartment.

Her sneakers slapped softly on the pavement. A bus hissed by its headlights bright enough to make her squint. She thought about leftovers maybe she would make herself something simple when she got home fried rice with egg and soy sauce the kind she used to cook after culinary school when life still felt like an open flame instead of a dying ember.

A traffic light flickered from green to red ahead. She stopped looked both ways then stepped into the crosswalk. Her phone buzzed in her pocket she pulled it out quickly just a message from her best friend asking if she made it home safe. She smiled started typing a reply and then there was a sound behind her sharp and wrong like metal breaking air.

The world turned white.

Her body felt weightless. For one endless second she thought she was flying then falling then nothing. No pain just silence and a distant ringing like the world holding its breath. When she opened her eyes again the city was gone. The smell of asphalt and fried onions vanished replaced by something strange and clean the scent of flowers and burning wood.

She was lying on soft grass under a sky that was too blue too wide. Her head spun she sat up and saw walls rising ahead not of steel or glass but of stone carved with golden lines that shimmered like sunlight caught in water. A palace stood there tall and distant with banners flowing in the wind.

“What…” she whispered her voice small against the vast quiet.

A group of women in long robes appeared from behind a gate their faces pale and curious. One of them gasped “Another one from the outer villages She must be late for the selection”

Mia blinked she didn’t understand a word yet somehow she felt she should nod. The women rushed over pulling her up dusting her clothes muttering about appearances and schedules. Before she could speak they handed her a plain dress and a small veil pressing them into her hands.

“Change quickly or you’ll be punished” one said eyes darting around nervously.

Punished for what Mia thought but said nothing. She looked down at the fabric her heart racing. The last thing she remembered was headlights rain and pain that never came. Now she was standing in sunlight that felt too warm to be real.

She followed the women through the gate into a courtyard filled with dozens of other young women lined up in silence. A tall woman with silver pins in her hair walked past them her gaze sharp like a blade. She spoke words Mia didn’t fully understand but one phrase rang clear through her mind as if whispered directly into her ear “Those chosen today will serve in the royal palace”

Royal palace The words hit her like thunder.

She looked around at the marble floors the tall columns the faint smell of spice and smoke drifting from somewhere beyond. The air shimmered in the heat of the afternoon and her reflection in the marble looked strange unfamiliar the same face but dressed in time that wasn’t hers.

Mia’s pulse quickened. Maybe she was dreaming or maybe she was dead and this was what came after. But when she pinched herself the pain was real small but sharp.

A voice called her number a push on her shoulder she stumbled forward. Someone tied a ribbon around her wrist marked with a golden symbol. The tall woman nodded approvingly then gestured toward the right gate.

“Those with the golden mark to the kitchen quarter”

Kitchen. The word broke through the confusion like sunlight through clouds. Mia’s eyes widened. Kitchen meant cooking food knives fire. Something she understood something that made sense when nothing else did.

As she followed the group down a long corridor the smell of soup and roasted meat reached her nose warm comforting painfully familiar. She stopped at the doorway staring in disbelief. The royal kitchen looked nothing like the restaurant back home. Giant bronze pots steamed over open flames cooks moved in precise rhythm their sleeves rolled high as they chopped and stirred with perfect coordination.

A short man in a red robe shouted orders. “Prepare the Emperor’s tasting menu The royal challenge begins at dusk”

Emperor Mia’s breath caught in her throat. The word felt heavy ancient powerful. She pressed a hand to her chest her heart racing again.

This wasn’t Los Angeles. This wasn’t any dream. It was something else.

And somehow she a girl from a late-night diner now stood at the edge of a royal kitchen in another world with no way back and no idea that fate had just begun to cook something extraordinary.