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"Why is everyone gathering like this in the middle of the morning?"

Johan quickly brushed the question off, waving a dismissive hand. "It is just our standard monthly commercial district meeting. We are just discussing supply chain issues. It is nothing important."

Solomon crossed his arms. "Jasmine told me these ’monthly’ meetings have been happening quite a few times a week lately."

Johan and Elara completely avoided his gaze, staring awkwardly at the pavement.

"I am asking you again," Solomon pressed, his tone turning serious. "If you do not tell me what is going on, I will just walk inside right now and ask them myself."

Elara let out a heavy sigh and placed a hand on Johan’s arm to stop his protests. She looked up at her son. "A dungeon has appeared in District Six."

Solomon furrowed his brow. District Six encompassed the residential neighborhood where they lived, the commercial district where the diner operated, and two adjacent industrial sectors.

"The local authorities issued an official notice," Elara continued, her voice trembling slightly. "They ordered all residents and business owners to evacuate the area immediately."

"Why would they issue an evacuation order?" Solomon asked in genuine confusion. "Is there not an official guild assigned specifically to this district? Why would they not just clear the dungeon before a break occurs?"

Every single district in the city required at least one operational guild to maintain public safety. There could be multiple guilds competing in the same district, but the absolute minimum requirement was one.

If an area lacked a guild, the Adventurer Association and the Dungeon Regulatory Bureau would either fund a private organization or establish a permanent, state-sponsored guild to handle the local expeditions.

If a guild failed to clear a manifested dungeon within the designated time limit, a ’dungeon break’ occurred. The magical portal would shatter, creating a permanent, open gateway for the monsters to pour out and wreak absolute havoc upon the surrounding civilian population.

"There is a guild assigned to our district," Johan answered grimly. "They are currently working on a joint operation with the guild from District Seven."

Solomon’s face darkened instantly. He clenched his fists inside his hoodie pockets, fighting desperately to keep his expression composed.

"What is the name of the guild from District Seven?" Solomon asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

"The BlueYorker’s Shield," Johan replied.

Solomon ground his teeth together.

"There is no need to evacuate or panic," Solomon stated, forcing his muscles to relax. "When exactly did the dungeon appear?"

"Two weeks ago," Elara answered.

"Then there is still plenty of time left to clear it before a break happens," Solomon reassured them. "There is no need to worry."

However, Johan did not look relieved in the slightest. His father’s shoulders remained tense, and his expression was clouded with deep, unspoken dread.

Solomon immediately realized his parents were hiding something else—something much worse, and he knew Johan was not going to tell him out here on the sidewalk.

Solomon glanced at his mother. Elara looked equally troubled, biting her lower lip, but she remained silent.

’I will just ask the other shop owners later when my parents are not around,’ Solomon decided inwardly. ’I am sure at least one of them will spill the truth if I press them hard enough.’

Solomon pretended to accept their explanation. He offered a bright, easy smile. "Is your meeting almost finished?"

Johan nodded slowly. "We are just wrapping up the final details."

"You should finish up and come back to the diner as soon as possible," Solomon requested, rubbing his stomach. He looked at his mother. "I am starving. I want to eat all my favorite dishes made by you."

Elara’s worried expression instantly melted away, replaced by a radiant, maternal smile. "We will be right there, Solomon. I will cook everything you want."

Johan and Elara turned around and walked back inside the hardware store. Solomon stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds longer, staring at the closed glass doors, before turning on his heel and walking back to the diner.

When he arrived at the back alley, he found Jasmine sitting on a wooden crate near the kitchen door, with Barbaros happily circling around her legs.

The moment she spotted him, Jasmine jumped up. "What was it?! Why were they all gathering secretly like that?!"

"It was literally just their standard monthly meeting," Solomon lied smoothly, patting the dog’s head.

Jasmine puffed her cheeks out and crossed her arms. "You are just like everyone else! You never tell me anything either!"

Solomon chuckled and ruffled her blue twin tails. "It really was just a boring meeting, Jas. They were discussing commercial zoning laws and supply chain logistics. You would not understand a single word of it anyway."

"Where are Mom and Dad?" Jasmine asked, swatting his hand away.

"They will be here very soon," Solomon promised. "I already told them to make all my favorite dishes. We are going to have a massive feast."

Jasmine’s frustration vanished instantly. She cheered excitedly, grabbing Barbaros’s leash as they both hurried inside the diner.

Solomon followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the stainless steel counters to chat casually with the morning prep employees while he waited for his parents to return.

Johan and Elara returned to the diner a short while later, their worried expressions completely replaced by warm, eager smiles the moment they saw their son waiting for them. They immediately tied on their aprons and got to work.

Solomon followed them into the kitchen, intending to help chop vegetables or manage the grills, but Elara promptly shooed him out, insisting he sit at his favorite booth and simply wait to be served.

The diner usually opened its doors to the public exactly at noon, catering to the heavy lunch rush from the surrounding commercial offices. However, they maintained a friendly neighborhood policy: if the prep work was finished early, they would happily serve anyone who walked through the doors.

One by one, plates piled high with Solomon’s favorite meals arrived at his booth. Because the kitchen was fully prepped for the lunch rush, the dishes came out incredibly fast. Before he could even finish his plate of spiced noodles and potatoes, a bowl of creamy chicken stew and a basket of fresh garlic bread appeared right next to it.

Solomon spent the next hour happily stuffing his face, chewing and swallowing until he physically could not pull a proper breath into his lungs.

Even as he leaned back against the vinyl booth, patting his bloated stomach, Johan and Elara kept insisting he try just a few more side dishes they had prepared specifically for his return. Not wanting to disappoint them, he slowly picked up his fork and continued eating.

Suddenly, the front glass doors of the diner were kicked violently open. The loud, shattering crash echoed across the empty dining area.

Solomon paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He glanced over the back of his booth, wondering if they had officially flipped the ’Open’ sign and a particularly impatient customer had arrived early.

A young waiter rushed out from behind the counter to check the entrance. A second later, an agonizing scream erupted from the boy, echoing shrilly through the diner.

Solomon instantly dropped his fork. His casual demeanor vanished, replaced by a hardened scowl. He pushed himself out of the booth.

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