Cole walked over to the front desk, where the same clerk from earlier glanced up with that automatic hospitality smile.

  “How might I assist you, Mr. Mercer?”

  Cole leaned on the counter. “We were hoping to get a tour of the place – get a feel for where everything is before we just start wandering.”

  “Certainly, sir. If you will permit me but a moment, I shall arrange for a guide.”

  She reached out without even glancing and found a small brass bell somewhere amid the desk clutter, ringing it once like muscle memory.

  A guy in his twenties hopped out from behind the concierge station, still chewing what had to be the final bite of his breakfast. He swallowed hard, wiped his mouth, and straightened up like he hadn’t just been caught mid-sandwich.

  The receptionist’s smile tightened for a fraction of a second – clearly professional displeasure, but brief enough to be deniable. “This is Mr. Quint, sir,” she said, tone smooth but with just enough edge that Quint definitely felt it. “He shall be most pleased to conduct your tour of the premises at your convenience.”

  Quint recovered quickly, offering a neat, earnest bow that looked good enough to satisfy Tenna’s standards. “Good afternoon, sirs and madam. If it suits you, I’d be pleased to show you about the resort’s amenities. Shall we proceed when you're ready?”

  Cole glanced back at the group. Nobody objected. “Yeah, we’re ready.”

  “Right then,” Quint said with a bright professionalism. “If you’ll follow me, we’ll begin just here in the main hall.”

  He led them a few steps back toward the center of the lobby, gesturing broadly at the space around them.

  “Some eight years past, Lord Masahiro Tanaka established Terraland Resort, his intent being to fashion a sanctuary reflective of his homeland’s traditions. He brought with him such novelties as the ‘cinema’ and the ‘bowling alley,’ set down just as he remembered them. Yet he set it all together so neatly that his own ideas and what our gentlefolk prefer just seem to meet in the middle, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.”

  The spiel was flawless – impressively so. Had Cole not caught him inhaling a sandwich earlier, he might’ve believed Quint had been born giving guided tours.

  “The resort spans nearly three hundred acres: gardens, walks, and all manner of leisure rooms and dining halls besides. You’ll find quiet spaces and livelier corners both, a pleasant change from the city’s bustle. As for the buildings, Lord Tanaka set them after the style of his homeland, then balanced it with the look of Celdorne. He always said the two ought to meet softly, so a guest might feel at home and still find something delightfully new.”

  Miles leaned toward Ethan. “Fancy way of sayin’ the guy just mashed two styles together and hoped for the best.”

  Ethan smirked but let the moment die. And honestly, that was probably for the best; Miles didn’t need encouragement.

  Quint, either too focused or too professional to bite, continued on without a hitch. “In the main building here, you’ll find the guest rooms, our larger dining rooms, and the offices where we keep things running smoothly. The two wings to either side,” he added with an easy gesture, “each offer their own sort of leisure – one for quieter rest, and the other for more lively pastimes.”

  The East Wing backed off the big marble showiness and leaned into warmer wood tones – smooth paneling, soft lighting, a light cloud of steam floating around; just a hint of onsen flavor without committing to the whole aesthetic. Even the air around here smelled sweet, somewhere in the vanilla-honey neighborhood but with a sharper edge that definitely marked it as local.

  Cole loosened up almost immediately, which was… great. Perfect. Exactly what his body needed, but also mildly concerning. Suspicious, to say the least. Whatever they’d pumped into the air had more of an effect on him than he would’ve liked.

  But then again, this was a resort – one that OTAC approved and nobles adored. The whole point was to get people to unclench. Still, knowing that didn’t stop his brain from treating the whole thing like a test he shouldn’t fail too easily. Old habits didn’t shut off just because the place smelled nice.

  He set that thought aside as Quint took them past a row of glass doors, each with a faint sheen of condensation and neatly printed labels in Celdornian script alongside their Aurelian equivalents.

  The spa turned out to be more sophisticated than Cole expected – not just the standard massage-and-steam setup, but legitimate therapeutic infrastructure. It contained everything that could be cobbled together from Celdorne’s technology and a bit of practical ingenuity: pressure tools, steam rooms, and the like. As long as the equipment didn’t require electronics, this place had it.

  Quint rattled off the basics from massage to hydrotherapy and herbal baths tailored to different needs. Standard resort fare, sure, but then he mentioned the mana channel therapy.

  Apparently they had treatments specifically designed to clear blockages and improve mana flow through the body’s natural pathways. Something about using stuff like crystal-infused water and controlled magical pulses, all aimed at opening the channels and boosting flow. Honestly, it sounded less like pampering and more like a chiropractor visit for mana users.

  It seemed excessive, but hey, mages were just as prone to overuse injuries as athletes. And given how hard the team had been running through mana recently, this sounded like one of the few things in the resort that could physically help.

  Quint brought them to the hot springs next, which sat just past the spa entrance. The setup was pure onsen vibes – exactly like every anime bathhouse scene Cole had ever watched, just without the fanservice.

  Both sides had the whole layout going: one giant communal pool big enough for a platoon, and a handful of smaller private ones for people who wanted their relaxation without witnesses. The big baths even had the classic open-air thing going on, steam drifting straight out into the forest like the place was auditioning for a tourism commercial. The private ones, meanwhile, stayed tucked inside behind stone and wood screens.

  The amenities went all-in on the theme. Cold milk bottles sat by the entrances, which was a classic onsen tradition, courtesy of Tanaka. The changing rooms kept that authenticity going, although with a slight deviation. They stocked robes in two distinct styles: lightweight yukata wraps – Japanese, obviously – alongside thick Celdornian bathrobes pulled straight out of any fancy hotel from back home.

  The contrast stood out, but didn’t detract from the vibe at all.

  They even had the bamboo water thing – the little contraption that filled, tipped, and made that soft thock! every few seconds. That detail alone won the room. They’d only hit two parts of the tour so far, but Cole knew damn well they’d already hit the peak of the tour. Mack had absolutely nailed the choice.

  The gym came next, and it was about what he expected – pretty standard, though the real luxury was the total lack of sweaty strangers hogging equipment. Honestly, the empty squat rack alone made it nicer than anything back home. He’d swing by later; maintenance was maintenance.

  After that, they moved to the aquatic center. No, not a pool; an aquatic center. Calling it a mere ‘pool’ would be a total lie; this was more like a private lake. Sunlight poured in through a vaulted glass ceiling, turning the whole surface into a glowing sheet of blue.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  Elina actually stopped walking to take it in, which said everything about the scale. Even Quint puffed up a little, like he’d been waiting to unveil this one.

  They wrapped the East Wing and swung into the West, where the mood flipped from ‘relax and breathe’ to ‘here to have a good time.’ Warmer lights, broader walkways – the whole place was clearly designed to handle crowds without losing its mind.

  The theater complex sat dead-center as the wing’s crown jewel, and Quint made a point of saying so. Not because of the stage – though they did run plays and full orchestras – but because of the cinema.

  According to the resort’s pamphlet, it was the attraction. And Quint, looking proud enough to burst, explained why: moving pictures with full sound and crystal clarity. As in: actual films. As in: technology this world shouldn’t have for another century.

  All courtesy, he said, of Lord Tanaka’s “visionary application of scrying magic.”

  Ethan hadn’t wasted a second in scanning the schedule by the door. Tanaka had apparently rebuilt half the cinematic canon from memory – lovingly faithful knockoffs of classic Hollywood films from back home mixed alongside genuine Celdornian and Aurelian productions. Cole didn’t even pretend he wasn’t interested. They were absolutely catching a movie before they left.

  Beside the theater was the bowling alley. Somehow they’d captured the feeling of a retro bowling alley instead of some sterile luxury version, which was harder than it sounded given the clientele. The only real difference was the use of paper scoresheets instead of screens, but that actually added to the vibe.

  Further down sat the recreation gallery: billiards, card tables, and a few arcade staples like Whack-A-Mole and skee. Quint didn’t linger, and neither did Cole.

  Quint brought them out to the arena next – half range, half airsoft theme park for nobles with too much free time. Miles lit up immediately, already going on about “rolling over civvies in airsoft.” Predictable. Endearing.

  Their tour guide then brought them into the gardens and started talking about seasonal design, which Cole tuned out five seconds in. The walkways were beautiful, yeah, but that was as far as his opinion reached.

  That kind of talk was more of a match for a sophisticated noble, like Elina. But whether she actually appreciated the intricacies of the fancy design choices or just liked the aesthetics was anyone’s guess. Either way, Cole did keep a note of her interest; it might be useful in the future if he wanted to spend time with her outside of mission contexts.

  They continued past the gardens. The golf course ran along the left, in line with any high-end country club back home. Fancy as shit, yeah, but nothing really remarkable except for the terrain shaping. The various hazards and obstacles and slopes were obviously sculpted by magic so guests could pretend golf was interesting.

  Cole, personally, didn’t see much of a point to it aside from socializing. But hey, to each their own.

  He moved on, following Quint. The promenade opened up to the ocean, the view hitting him all at once – wide horizon, clean breeze, nothing demanding anything from him for a change. It was… nice, in a way he never really let himself admit. Too peaceful, maybe, but not in a way that set him on edge; more in that glossy Instagram-calm he’d seen farming likes on those travel pages.

  The beachfront came into view next – cabanas, loungers, shade sails, the whole resort lineup, but done clean and intentional instead of tourist-trappy. Honestly, it reminded him of the nicer beaches in Hawaii. The ones where people really do just sit around sipping mimosas or some shit, while pretending they aren’t going to sunburn.

  Cole wasn’t really that guy, but… yeah. He could get behind that.

  Quint wrapped up the tour and asked if they wanted to check anything out again or head back. Cole opened his mouth to answer, but his stomach cut in first with a loud, very unambiguous opinion.

  Miles snorted. “Lunch?”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” Cole turned to Quint. “Any recommendations?”

  The guide produced a neat fan of pamphlets. “If you’ve an interest in our dining rooms, sir, these may serve you well.” He offered the first forward with an open hand.

  “Sakura Hall stands foremost among them. His lordship fashioned it after the cuisine of his homeland, and the chefs prepare the dishes much as he taught them. You’ll find much use of fresh fish, rice prepared in their manner, and several finer delicacies that seldom appear on Celdornian tables. Guests speak highly of it, those who favor lighter fare most of all.”

  He passed the next pamphlet with a small nod.

  “The Terrace keeps to Celdornian tastes, though Lord Tanaka has seen fit to add a few notions gathered on his travels. A plate of noodles in sauce called ‘spaghetti’ – quite hearty, despite its simple look – and fowl roasted with herbs we seldom keep in our own kitchens. Near enough to what we know to feel comfortable, yet touched with something pleasantly different.”

  Then came the third pamphlet.

  “For variety, many choose the Conservatory. It serves in the buffet style – from breakfast straight through to supper – and offers both our usual Celdornian dishes and several of Lord Tanaka’s foreign contributions besides. It proves convenient for families, or for parties who keep different hours.”

  He transitioned to the final pamphlet.

  “And lastly, the Pavilion. That room offers Aurelian fare: spiced meats, flatbreads baked thin, olives and their oils, and stews. Guests with a fondness for richer seasonings often take a particular liking to it. If any of these strike your fancy, sir, I’d be glad to arrange a table at whatever hour suits you.”

  Cole nodded, flipping through the first pamphlet. “What’s your pick?”

  “Oh, Sakura Hall, without question!” Quint said immediately, leaning forward a little like the answer had been waiting on the tip of his tongue. “I’ve lived in Alexandria all my life, so our own Celdornian fare feels rather ordinary by now. But Lord Tanaka’s dishes… there’s such lightness to them, and a kind of variety you don’t oft see. The way they prepare the fish – clean and fresh and never weighed down – it’s a marvel, sir, truly.”

  He gave a short, self-conscious laugh, though his gaze didn’t waver.

  “That said, the Terrace and the Conservatory hold their own. Some of the foreign dishes seem unusual at first glance, but once you take the measure of them, they’re surprisingly good. I’ve found myself going back more than once.”

  “Alright, then. Appreciate it, Quint.” Cole glanced at his team. “Give us a minute, and we’ll let you know?”

  “Certainly, sir. I shall wait just here.” Quint stepped back to give them space to talk.

  Cole spread the pamphlets across a nearby table, scanning the Sakura Hall menu first. “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with.”

  The menu was surprisingly detailed, each dish listed with full descriptions and accompaniments. He read a few aloud.

  “Sashimi Moriawase – Chef’s selection of three fish: Kairel, Talmis, Sanmar. Served with pickled ginger, wasabi, soy sauce, and steamed rice.” He looked at Mack. “Okay, so that’s pretty much a sashimi platter, right?”

  Mack shrugged. “Yeah. Dunno what the fish are, but sounds kinda good, honestly.”

  Cole kept reading. “Tempura Gozen – Assorted tempura: some type of shrimp, cevass, Yumeji mushrooms, and… sweet neeps? Comes with sauce, miso soup, rice, and salad.”

  Miles squinted at the menu. “The hell’s a ‘gozen’?”

  “That’s your question?” Ethan asked. “Anyway, it’s a set meal. Japanese thing. You get a bunch of different stuff on one tray.”

  “Huh. Fancy.”

  Cole moved down the list. “Teriyaki Brellen Don – Grilled Brellen strips glazed in house teriyaki sauce, served over steamed rice with sautéed vegetables and soft-boiled egg. Brellen’s gotta be meat. Beef? Poultry? Eh, it’ll be good either way.”

  Elina picked up the Terrace pamphlet, frowning slightly as she read. “Pan-Seared Kairel… Kairel filet with qaris-cream sauce, roasted brins, sautéed vess and sholu, garnished with fresh thornley. That is indeed rather Celdornian.”

  “Yeah. Fusion western, I’m guessing.” Seeing Elina’s confusion, Cole clarified, “Well, ‘western’ as in adjacent to Celdorne, I guess.”

  He set the Sakura Hall menu down and glanced around the table. “So, what’re we thinking? Buffet’s probably overkill right now.”

  “Sakura Hall sounds good to me,” Mack said. “Fits the whole isekai resort vibe.”

  Miles shrugged. “I’m down. If it’s anything like Lisara’s cookin’, it’ll be damn good.”

  “Same,” Ethan added.

  Elina set her pamphlet aside. “I’ve no objection. It does seem fitting, I suppose.”

  Cole nodded and gathered the pamphlets. “Sakura Hall it is.”

  Want more content? Check out my other book,

  Patreon:

  Discord: