The most prominent demonic races found in Garbrandt are the succubi and fiends. Migrated from Zelgarad's Rift, where the Demons of Solomon and their kin dwell. In the beginning, they were outcasts and reviled, often living near human settlements but not among them. As they procreated with humans, elves, and dwarves, the dilation of their demonic blood allowed them to integrate into sapient society with little issues. The East Star Clubs have gained notoriety for their succubi-managed brothels and it is rumored that the leader of the Twilight Bandits is part-fiend. For many denizens of Garbrandt, they likely have a demonic ancestor in their lineage. The effect of having a sliver of demon blood is unknown, but theorized to enhance natural attractiveness and even increase physical attributes, depending on their demonic ancestor's initial race.

~ Ancestry of Demons, a study by Garm E. Noll

The neutral zone was impossible to miss. After an hour of walking, Chester noticed his surroundings change significantly. The buildings were more well-maintained, the populace didn't look so miserable, and it still resembled a city much more than any area he'd been to in Garbrandt so far.

Strofil South was a slum, and for some time the man had considered that most of the lawless city would be the same. But it was different here in many subtle ways. The people didn't hold their heads down, and no gangsters were terrorizing the area looking for prey like in Strofil. But the illusionist's keen eyes spotted many key figures despite how densely populated the neutral zone was.

Shady people wearing coats, shirts, and robes with varying symbols. Some acted brazenly, while others were shifty and secretive. The gang members were all aware of each other's presence; sometimes sneering at each other or glaring. But nothing went further than that.

Despite some of them carrying weapons, everybody kept their hands to themselves as though an invisible force was watching them all.

'Those kids weren't lying when they said people were careful here.'

He decided to keep things subtle. At least, until he gathered more information about the region. Chester explored the area further, in search of anything that piqued his interest. He kept his eyes and ears open in the chance that people mentioned anything he'd be interested in. The illusionist did it on instinct and filtered out useless blabber from anything he could use.

Contrary to his initial impression, minor altercations occurred throughout his walk; some between gang members, others between regular people. The illusionist watched as a Twilight Bandit member butted heads with another man right in front of a shop.

"You don't think I noticed you trying to grab at my pockets? Fuckin' runt!" The gangster shouted while readjusting his pockets. He double-checked to make sure all his belongings were in order before lambasting the man he accused.

The suspected thief glared back with the same intensity. "Haa-? I don't know what the hell you're talking about. You want to start something here?"

A small crowd began to form around the two and Chester edged a little closer to take a better look. The Twilight Bandit member looked rather similar to the thugs Damien was dealing with, and he glanced around nervously as the altercation grew slightly out of control. But the gangster didn't seem willing to back down and grabbed his opponent by the collar.

"Excuse me. May I ask what you're doing?"

A hand was placed on the Twilight Bandit gangster's shoulder. He whipped his head around and craned his neck slightly higher to meet the newcomer's gaze.

It was a bearded man wearing a bandana on his head, and tan skin, standing just under two meters. He possessed broad shoulders and a solid build, visible from his forearms alone. In his other arm was a basket of goods. As soon as he appeared, the thug gritted his teeth and shook his shoulder off, and cussed loudly.

"Punks think they can do shit when they're here...Tch! Move it!"

The thug shoved through the crowd and bumped Chester's shoulder on his way out. In his hurry to get away from the scene, the Twilight Bandit didn't notice the hand that flitted into his pocket before disappearing. The illusionist slipped the coin purse into his robes before returning his attention to the man at the front. Several people talked to him as the action died down.

"That guy's got some guts making a fuss in front of your shop, Manny! Can you believe 'em?"

Chester glanced at the storefront where it all took place. From the interior, he could see shelves of products alongside tables serving customers with what looked to be coffee. The sign stationed by the door was painted and designed with care, in big bold letters.

Manny's Café and Dispensary

The shopkeeper, Manny, smiled. He turned his head and immediately grabbed the suspected thief's forearm.

"They would know better if a certain someone wouldn't keep provoking them. Isn't that right?"

The younger man struggled, shaking his head in denial. "I didn't do anything! You're tripping, Manny!"

"You better get your act together unless you want Lola involved. How'd she react if I told her you've been up to no good?"

The man paled upon the mention of that name and quickly bowed his head down. Manny dragged him into the store, muttering about having him get to work. With the conflict resolved, the crowd began to split off and left the illusionist deep in thought.

'So the people here seem to handle themselves without any soldiers or guards. But I guess they have a leader of some sort? Lola, was it?'

Seeing the thug's hesitance in causing a scene, it was clear the people in the neutral zone had something over the nearby gangs that forced them to comply. Although the shopkeeper was an intimidating sight, he didn't stand out in terms of strength or power. Chester even utilized his mana-sensing skill but only found Manny to only be above average than a normal villager. There was the possibility that the bearded man was repressing his power, but the illusionist didn't think it was the case.

He entered the shop and looked at the offered goods on the shelves. Many of them were labeled but had complex jargon that he could barely understand, and their uses weren't visible from appearance alone. From what he could infer, many of the products were related to alchemy and medicine; none of which were his area of expertise.

Turning to the other side of the shop, he looked at the menu where they offered confectionery and coffee. It was a cozy little area but seemed quite popular, evidenced by the lack of seats available for him to sit. He approached the counter and looked over at the cashier, realizing that the suspected thief from before was taking orders.

"You work here?" Chester asked the man. It was funny to him how an employee would cause trouble in front of the store they worked at.

"...I'd rather not talk about it. What can I get you?"

The menu had a wide array of coffee-based drinks, but they all had long and complicated names that made it hard for the illusionist to choose.

"What's the difference between the drinks?"

"Depends which one you're taking. Madelyn Vapor can help you get a good night's sleep. Redflower if you're doing something physical, and..."

The explanation of the various effects that would take place was numerous, and Chester couldn't make his mind up quickly enough. Seeing the line behind him gradually get longer, he decided to take the safest route and order the most popular drink in the shop.

"Golden Teacher latte, what dosage would you like?"

'Dosage? Like, caffeine?'

"Er-regular's fine."

"Okay, your total is one silver."

The illusionist handed the money without much thought. One silver was markedly higher than what he expected to pay, but considering the location and popularity of the shop, it was likely they were this world's version of Starbucks. He didn't care much; he was using other people's money to pay for the drink.

It didn't take long for his order to arrive. The drink came in a clean ceramic cup and he found a vacant seat after a few minutes of waiting. The window provided a nice view of the street outside and he watched while taking a small sip of his beverage.

'Tastes like coffee.' Chester puckered his lips together after noticing a distinct aftertaste. 'Is that pumpkin seeds? Hm.'

Humming quietly to himself, the curly-haired illusionist returned the mug and went on his merry way without any problems. He quickly lost interest in the store and continued traversing the streets, landing himself in an even larger area filled with many shops and buildings. The sight amazed him, eliciting a quiet breath of awe.

You are under the influence of Golden Teacher Mushroom.

Your way of thinking is slightly adjusted.

Your anxieties decrease and calm increases.

The way you perceive the world is slightly altered.

Due to user's acceptance of effects, Poison Resistance and Mental Resistance will not activate.

Chester's pupils felt like they were dilating as he observed the box. It seemed a lot more vibrant than he remembered, and he didn't feel too alarmed upon seeing the notification. The calming sensation was truly significant.

'I guess those drinks were spiked with shrooms? Phew, I thought it'd be poison like last time. I wasn't paying attention. This is nice, though. Not my first rodeo, no sir.'

The illusionist could detect several changes in his body. For starters, he felt everything more. The crispness of the air, the smells of the food, the colors of the sky; they all seemed more vibrant than ever. He approached things with a child-like wonder, asif everything here was something he had seen for the first time. He felt...more. The clothes on his skin, the slightly uneven ground from under his feet. It was as if everything he had been subconsciously ignoring was brought to his attention.

His eyes zoned in on a restaurant across the street. It was filled to the brim with people, but he didn't care. Chester's legs moved towards the front where he watched an elderly chef cook the food in full view of the customers. It was a mesmerizing sight that he couldn't take his eyes off. Everything else seemed to fade away in the background.

Her bowl-shaped frying pan tossed and turned rhythmically, making a wave of ingredients rise into the air and fall back in. The smell was heavenly; smoky, fragrant, aromatics intertwined with chicken and made his mouth drool. The older woman handled the pan along with a metal ladle, creating the stir-fry dish and then plating it with grace and efficiency. Chester could tell the move was practiced with years of consistent work. Before he knew it, he had stopped at the front where the chef continued to cook.

"Whaddya' want, brat?" The chef spoke, not even turning to meet the curious man's gaze. Her words were rough, but her tone didn't show any aggression. It just seemed like the way she spoke.

The illusionist snapped out of his daze. He spoke slowly and carefully, trying to make sure his words made sense before letting them come out of his mouth. He didn't want to be weird while he was under the effects of a mystery mushroom.

"Can I have that? That dish?"

The woman turned to look at him. She was on the shorter side, with short hair and thin eyebrows. From what he could assume, she was likely in her sixties. But her hair was still a healthy shade of dark brown, and her eyes were stern but kind.

"You got money?"

"Ah-yeah, yeah. Of course. How much?" He realized it was odd to ask for food like that and made him look like some sort of beggar. He pulled out his pocket and reached out to pay, estimating it would be at least a silver.

"Seventy-five bronze. One silver if you want some extra meat on the side."

He purchased it with the extra meat and handed over the silver. The elderly woman placed it into the till and began to work. She seemed to be the only chef in the kitchen, but several younger children were going around and serving the tables in a frenzied rush. They were all a ragtag bunch that reminded him of the orphans in Strofil South.

"Lola! Two more orders of grilled pork!" One child shouted while putting a paper down on the counter. The woman, despite her advanced age, was moving incredibly well and coordinated several tasks at once like a seasoned master. But there was only so much she could do without compromising the taste of the food.

'Lola? That's the name they mentioned back there.'

Chester continued to stare at the lady until he felt someone push past him gently. He turned to see a girl, likely in her teens, walk behind the counter and into the kitchen. The first thing he noticed about her was her abnormal irises; multi-colored, shifting and, pulsating like they had a life of their own. It was iridescent, reminding him of a certain mage in Elway he had met long ago.

She ignored him and began stocking the shelves with the contents of the bag. The chef gave her an acknowledging glance before returning her gaze to the meat sizzling on a grill. The illusionist's stomach began to rumble.

"Wear your headband when you get in here, Eli." Lola chastised gently. "Don't want hair in the customer's plates."

The girl placed her blonde hair into a simple bun and then followed it up with a headband that covered some of her forehead. The illusionist was able to admire her beauty, but even that was minor compared to her skills as a chef.

She seamlessly joined in on the cooking process, working shoulder-to-shoulder with the older lady. Chester watched in amazement as the two women turned the simple act of cooking into an art form. An elaborate dance involving ingredients and metal dishes that required years of repetitive movements. As he stood entranced by the restaurant's daily operations, a plate of stir-fried rice was set before him, still steaming slightly and letting the glorious scent enter his nostrils.

"Enjoy."

"Ah, thanks."

He looked around for a seat but quickly found himself with none because of how crowded the restaurant was. Even with two lightning-quick chefs, they were barely keeping up with the influx of new orders. Leaning against the wall while carrying his plate, Chester dug in with gusto and took his first spoonful.

'Holy shi-'

The illusionist couldn't even finish his thought before he went for a second bite. Then a third. And a fourth. With every bite, he noticed a new flavor; smoked ham, chicken skin, shrimp, and more coalescing into an unforgettable dish. The rice dish held a distinct taste similar to Asian cuisine, and Chester's tastebuds were in overdrive after being altered by the coffee he had ingested earlier. He ate like a starved dog and didn't care whether people stared. In his world, only his mouth and the food existed before him.

After every grain of rice had disappeared off his plate, the illusionist let out a large burp and looked into the air in a daze.

Lola looked over to see the illusionist standing in front of the counter once more, and she smirked lightly at the satisfied look on the curly-haired man's face.

"What, you want seconds?"

Contrary to her expectations, the adventurer bowed his head to the floor and begged rather loudly, catching the attention of everybody present in the building with his groveling.

"LET ME HIRE YOU AS A CHEF! I'LL PAY YOU WELL!"