Golden Dragon Restaurant, Chinatown - 7:00 PM
The familiar chaos of Golden Dragon Restaurant wrapped around Alex like a warm blanket as he pushed through the glass door. The dinner rush was in full swing—families crowded around circular tables, the air thick with the aroma of garlic, ginger, and soy sauce. Conversations in Mandarin, Cantonese, and English created a comfortable cacophony that had been the soundtrack to Alex's childhood.
His father, David Chen, emerged from the kitchen wiping his hands on a stained apron. At fifty-five, he moved with the efficient grace of someone who'd spent thirty years navigating cramped restaurant spaces. His graying hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, and his weathered face lit up when he spotted Alex.
"Xiao Bao!" he called out, using the childhood nickname that never failed to make Alex cringe and smile in equal measure. "You're late. Your mother was worried."
"Traffic from Manhattan," Alex lied smoothly, accepting his father's brief, fierce hug. The scent of cooking oil and five-spice powder clung to David's clothes—the smell of home and hard work.
"How was the dungeon today?" David asked, his English still carrying traces of a Guangzhou accent after twenty-six years in New York. "Dangerous?"
If only you knew, Alex thought, but aloud he said, "Same as always, Ba. Just filming from a safe distance."
They made their way to the family table in the back corner—a small round table that had been their designated spot for Sunday dinners since Alex was ten. His mother, Linda Chen, was already seated, still wearing her hospital scrubs from her job as a radiology technician. She looked up from her phone with the expression of mild exasperation that was her default setting.
"Finally," she said in Mandarin, though her tone was more relieved than annoyed. "Amy's been here for twenty minutes already."
Alex's older sister sat across from their mother, looking professional even in casual clothes. Amy had inherited their mother's delicate features and their father's stubborn chin, combined with a nurse's practical demeanor that made her seem older than her twenty-seven years.
"Little brother," Amy said with a grin, switching to English. "You look like hell. Rough day at work?"
Alex slid into his seat, acutely aware of the ache in his shoulders from his impromptu training session. "Just tired. You know how it is."
Linda reached across the table to feel Alex's forehead with the back of her hand—a gesture that had embarrassed him as a teenager but now felt comforting. "You're warm. Are you getting sick?"
"I'm fine, Ma," Alex said, gently removing her hand. "Just need some food."
David disappeared into the kitchen and returned with their usual order—mapo tofu, salt and pepper fish, beef and broccoli, and a mountain of white rice. The family ate with the comfortable efficiency of people who'd shared thousands of meals together, conversation flowing between English and Mandarin depending on the topic and who was speaking.
"So," Linda said, spooning rice into Alex's bowl without asking, "Mrs. Wu's daughter just got engaged to an A-rank Awakened. Ice elemental, very powerful. Good family too."
Alex nearly choked on his tea. "Ma, please don't."
"I'm just saying," Linda continued, undeterred. "Maybe it's time you thought about your future. This camera work... it's not a real career."
"Linda," David warned gently, but his wife was on a roll.
"What happens when you get older? When your reflexes slow down? These Awakened people, they live in a different world now. Maybe you should think about going back to school, getting a proper degree—"
"I make good money filming," Alex interrupted, then immediately regretted the defensive tone. "The guilds pay well for quality documentation."
Amy leaned forward, her nurse's instincts kicking in. "Alex, you seem tense tonight. More than usual. Something happen today?"
The question was casual, but Alex caught the professional assessment in his sister's eyes. Amy had always been able to read him too well—a skill that had only gotten sharper since she'd started working with trauma patients at Mount Sinai.
"Nothing happened," Alex said, focusing intently on his mapo tofu. "Just a long day."
But Amy wasn't buying it. She studied him with the same intensity she probably used to assess patients in the ER. "Your hands are shaking slightly. Your posture is different—like you're favoring your left shoulder. And you keep glancing around like you're expecting something."
Damn nurse training, Alex thought, forcing himself to relax his shoulders. The interface icon in the corner of his vision pulsed gently, as if reminding him of its presence.
"I'm fine, really," he insisted. "Maybe just need more sleep."
David set down his chopsticks and looked at his son seriously. "Alex, you know we worry about you. This work with the dungeons... it's not what we hoped for when you were growing up."
The familiar weight of parental disappointment settled on Alex's shoulders. When the Great Awakening had happened five years ago, his parents had harbored the same secret hope as millions of other families—that their child might be one of the chosen few, the Awakened who could reshape the world with supernatural abilities.
Instead, they'd gotten Alex: F-rank, barely enhanced, working as a cameraman for people who could do things he'd only dreamed of.
"I know, Ba," Alex said quietly. "But it's honest work. And I'm good at it."
Better than they could ever imagine, he added silently, thinking of the Lightning Slash data quietly catalogued in his mind.
"We just want you to be safe," Linda said, her voice softer now. "These Awakened people, they live dangerous lives. We see it on the news—guild wars, dungeon breaks, people dying for glory and money."
"I stay behind the camera lines," Alex assured her. "I'm not a fighter."
Amy's phone buzzed, and she glanced at it with a frown. "Speaking of dangerous lives, I need to head back to the hospital. Multi-car accident coming in, and they need all hands."
She stood and kissed each parent on the cheek, then paused next to Alex. In a voice too low for their parents to hear, she said, "Whatever's going on with you, little brother, be careful. You're carrying yourself like someone who's been in a fight."
Before Alex could respond, she was gone, leaving him with his parents and a growing sense of unease. Amy had always been perceptive, but her observation was uncomfortably accurate. The training session had left physical marks he hadn't considered—subtle changes in his posture and movement that a medical professional might notice.
I need to be more careful, Alex realized. If Amy can spot changes after one practice session, what happens when I really start training?
"Your sister worries too much," David said, but his eyes remained concerned. "Still, she's not wrong. You do seem... different tonight."
Linda reached across the table and took Alex's hand in both of hers. Her fingers were small and work-roughened, but warm with maternal concern. "Promise me you'll be careful. I know you think we don't understand your work, but we do understand that we love you."
The sincerity in her voice made Alex's chest tight. Here were his parents, worried about his safety while working ordinary dungeon documentation, completely unaware that their son had just gained the ability to copy the techniques of the world's most dangerous people.
"I promise, Ma," he said, squeezing her hands. "I'll be careful."
They finished dinner with lighter conversation—David's plans to update the restaurant's ventilation system, Linda's frustration with new hospital regulations, neighborhood gossip that felt both comforting and surreal given the day's events.
As Alex prepared to leave, David pulled him aside near the kitchen door.
"Your mother doesn't say it, but she's proud of you," David said quietly. "We both are. You found a way to be part of this new world without losing yourself. That takes courage."
If only you knew how much I might be about to lose myself, Alex thought, but he hugged his father tightly instead.
"Thanks, Ba. I love you too."
The walk to the subway station took Alex through familiar Chinatown streets, past shops selling everything from traditional herbs to knockoff designer goods. The neighborhood felt different now—not smaller, exactly, but more fragile. Like a piece of the old world that the Awakened revolution had somehow overlooked.
As he descended into the subway station, Alex's phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: "Looking forward to coffee tomorrow. Get some rest—you'll need it."
What does that mean? Alex wondered, but before he could analyze the message further, the system interface flickered to life:
[EMOTIONAL STRESS DETECTED][DECEPTION PROTOCOLS ACTIVATED DURING FAMILY INTERACTION][RECOMMENDATION: ENHANCED PRIVACY MEASURES REQUIRED][WOULD YOU LIKE TO ACCESS BEHAVIORAL MODIFICATION SUBROUTINES?]
Alex stopped walking, staring at the translucent text floating in front of his eyes. Behavioral modification subroutines? The system had been watching his dinner conversation, analyzing his interactions with his family, and now it was offering to help him lie more effectively?
The implications were terrifying. This wasn't just a tool for copying combat techniques—it was something far more comprehensive, something that could potentially reshape his entire personality and social behavior.
[AWAITING USER RESPONSE][PRIVACY PROTECTION PROTOCOLS HIGHLY RECOMMENDED]
Alex's finger hovered over the mental 'Yes' button. The rational part of his mind knew that keeping his secret would only get harder as his abilities developed. If the system could help him maintain his cover...
But the thought of letting an unknown technology modify his behavior, even subtly, made his skin crawl.
"No," he whispered aloud, and the interface faded with what almost seemed like disappointment.
As the subway train carried him back to Brooklyn, Alex stared at his reflection in the dark window and wondered how many more family dinners he'd be able to endure before the weight of his secrets became too much to bear.