Transmigrating Narcissus

1.04 - Jonquil Buds

"Through spring walks where jonquils bloom, I lay down my love for you." - Life's Melody

Alex walks with me hand in hand through cobblestone streets in the older part of the city back when they had horse-drawn station wagons. The stores were as ancient as the streets, providing a vintage feel to everything. Along the way, he points out various buildings to talk endlessly about their histories with famous musicians and singers - who was inspired where and who met who where and on and on. Alex's eyes light up whenever he talks about music, and I am able to contribute to the conversation as the musicians and singers were the same as from my past life - Tchaikovsky, Elvis, Mozart - the list is endless.

He points to a quaint stone building whose storefront and windows are decorated with lush greenery and white flowers with yellow centers that reminded me of daffodils. The wooden sign has Jonquil Buds etched in gold, cursive loops.

He turns to look at me and hesitates before saying, "Are you ready for your free food, darling?"

"Of course I am. Who in their right mind would turn down free food? I'm starving."

Do I also receive free food?

Oldie, you're an AI system. The only "food" you need is computer coding to function.

First using the elderly as a shield and now having forced elderly labor in inhumane conditions? My my Earthling, you are quite the sadist.

Hah, while I do thrive off of your misery, physical torturing isn't my thing. Blood and gore are too messy to deal with.

He smiles and pats my stomach consolingly before leading me inside. Jonquil Buds is a famous restaurant throughout history that sparked endless tales of passionate romances and tragedies of people who sacrificed themselves for love.

The entrance opens into a rich wooden archway the same color as the desk where I saw Michel and his father speaking, with more jonquil flowers weaved into the wood. Upon closer inspection, I find that they are made of a delicate fabric, and the pollen is thousands of powdered, glittering jewels. A waiter dressed in a standard black and white uniform stands in front of a desk with carved embellishments of jonquil flowers and bows slightly when we near him.

"Right this way, Mr. Battaglia," he says as he leads us through the restaurant of wooden circular tables where customers dressed in casual and formal clothing alike sit on homely wood chairs with satiny white cushions the same shade as the jonquil flowers decorated everywhere.

The back wall is a translucent windowpane with ancient Chinese style brush painting of jonquil flowers in a beautiful landscape illuminated by the sunlight outside. There's peaceful instrumental music playing in the background as Alex and I are seated at a table with two menus and plate sets in the back corner with two chairs facing one another.

"Would you like anything to drink, sir and miss?"

"I'll have chamomile tea. What about you, Kayla?" Alex asks me while holding the menu printed on creamy manila with jonquil buds painted in the same style as the artwork next to us.

Sigh, why couldn't he show one negative quality and order for me or something to make my missions easier? The sunlight streaming through highlights the golden strands of his hair, glowing brighter than the darker ones. I want to run my hands through the aureate locks and feel the transfer of their warmth.

"I'll have a glass of cold water."

"Your drinks will arrive shortly. Feel free to ask me any questions when I come back about recommendations and requests," the waiter answers professionally before leaving to the hidden kitchen area.