After revolutionizing alcohol culture in the Afterlife, Atem discovers an even greater force behind civilization:
dessert.
Convinced that tea, sweets, and conversation are essential pillars of cultural development, the Pharaoh drags Kaiba into a grand new research project—visiting cafés. What begins as "market research" quickly becomes a series of increasingly public dates, complete with seasonal parfaits, social media trends, and crowds of admirers who cannot stop treating them like living legends.
Naturally, Kaiba's solution is to build an entirely new kind of café.
Designed through cutting-edge AI, controlled acoustics, and impossible levels of environmental optimization, Kaiba Sanctum Café becomes famous as a place where people drink coffee in reverent silence. Unfortunately, this only makes the phenomenon worse.
Meanwhile, Atem discovers another modern concept: relaxation.
Kaiba discovers that explaining relaxation to the Pharaoh may have been a mistake.
Between cafés, corporate welfare systems, dessert-based civilization theory, and increasingly questionable definitions of "research," the two continue reshaping both the living world and the Afterlife—one cup of coffee at a time.
Because for Atem, every pleasant experience is a cultural breakthrough.
And for Kaiba, every cultural breakthrough somehow becomes a global project.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 愛と理論 10 王、サ店に目をつける
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
A full season had turned since the culture of intoxication took root in the afterlife.
At banquets, drink carried conversation forward, and laughter spread from table to table.
Seto finished an inspection of the institute and scrolled through data with quiet satisfaction.
"Shipping volume up two hundred and thirty percent from last month. By afterlife GDP equivalents, the growth rate in the food culture sector is abnormal."
"The happiness that drink brings is worth more than numbers."
Atem tilted his cup toward the window and answered.
"When people are drunk, they talk — and sometimes cry. That moves civilization forward. Because indulgences move the heart."
Seto closed his terminal and exhaled, slowly.
"…You've started thinking in a troublesome direction again."
"Not troublesome. Interesting."
"Your interesting and my more work for me are more or less synonymous."
Light banter on the surface — but Seto had already read it. Now that Atem had grasped the concept of indulgences moving civilization, his next move was, without question, to reach toward a different indulgence.
The intuition proved exactly right.
One afternoon.
Atem was in the study, taking notes on something he had titled "History of Afterlife Indulgences."
Words were arranged across the page: tea, sweets, rest, socialization.
"If drink advances the night, tea advances the day."
Murmuring to himself, Atem looked back at Seto.
"Seto — let's redesign teatime."
"What are you proposing now."
"Create a culture centered on sweets and conversation, for the hours of midday. The afterlife still has only a faint concept of snacks. The diversification of taste is a sign of civilizational maturity."
Seto pressed a hand to his temple.
"…So this time you're going to start a confectionery industry."
"Not just confectionery. Sweets as experience."
"Here we go again."
"But this time, I want to personally taste and research the market. First: a field survey."
At those words, Seto raised an eyebrow.
"A field survey."
"Exactly. Let's go to a sa-ten in the living world."
"…When did you pick up that word."
"A king learns."
Atem said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Seto gave a wry smile.
Weekend.
Seto's car stopped on a back street in the city center. Atem turned up his coat collar and looked around, curiosity plain in his eyes.
Through the glass: parfaits, cream soda, seasonal ice cream, cake.
Inside — soft music and the scent of coffee.
"So this is a sa-ten. Looking at it fresh, it's remarkable. A place designed to undo the knots in people's hearts."
"The original word is kissaten. Where did you pick up that abbreviation."
"Sa-ten is sa-ten, isn't it? Besides — everyone on the living world's social media writes sa-ten katsu."
"Because you're the one who started it. …A king of the afterlife analyzing the living world's social media trends should tell you something has gone wrong."
Atem sat down, opened the menu — and his eyes lit up.
"Seto. Look at this — 'seasonal limited: grape parfait.'"
"Stop reacting to grapes."
"I've had wine, but the idea of pairing it with frozen dessert never occurred to me. What a beautiful structure. It's art."
Seto, unable to fully suppress his laugh, murmured it like a sigh.
"…What you're actually doing isn't researching civilization — it's an outdoor date."
"That too."
Atem smiled back, entirely without shame.
When the order arrived, light played across the table.
Layers of ice, the clear gleam of fruit, Seto's fingers reflected in the glass.
Atem took up his spoon and lifted a careful first bite.
The moment cold and sweetness touched his tongue, he closed his eyes — quietly.
"…Transcendent. So this is how human beings can give happiness a shape."
Seto smiled despite himself and brought his coffee to his lips.
"You were the one who said indulgences move civilization. You're tasting exactly that, right now."
"Indulgences are a means of sharing the heart. …Seto, what are your preferences?"
"Something not too sweet. The balance with bitterness—"
"Then next, I'll bring bitter sweets back to the afterlife."
Another new idea had taken root.
Seto set down his cup — half exasperated, half quietly pleased.
"You'll do it regardless of whether I try to stop you."
"Naturally. And you're going to taste-test with me."
Atem smiled. Seto let his shoulders drop.
Outside, the sky was slowly taking on the color of dusk, and golden light came through the glass.
In that light, their two shadows fell together, quietly.
The progress of the afterlife always begins at teatime.
From the day café-hopping became a regular part of their routine, the moment they stepped through any coffee shop door, the room invariably stirred.
"…Wait, isn't that the President?"
"The person next to him — is that…?!"
"It's Atem — the real one…!"
Whispers threaded through the air. Seto held his cup and didn't move a muscle.
Beside him, Atem examined a slice of cheesecake with visible delight.
"Seto — today's teatime civilization is progressing well."
"The only things progressing are your palate and your stomach."
"That too is advancement."
"…I wouldn't call this situation advancement."
Seto exhaled deeply, aware of every eye in the room.
By the time they left, a handful of the braver souls had approached: at least four spoke to them, three asked for handshakes, two took photographs.
"Why does simply drinking coffee require me to become a trending topic."
"Because it's teatime with a king and a president?"
"…That combination was a mistake from the start."
Atem tilted his head at Seto's tone.
"But everyone was happy."
"I don't want to make anyone happy. I want to drink in peace."
That single word — peace — was what set Seto in motion.
To reclaim quiet, the environment itself would have to be designed from scratch.
The following week, a new project was launched in Kaiba Corporation's development division.
Project name: Silent Sanctuary.
The concept: an AI-driven resonant silence system that controlled ambient sound throughout the space and automatically suppressed the volume of patrons' voices.
All orders entirely contactless. The moment a customer was seated, the AI read their pulse and expression and determined what they needed to drink today.
During early development, Atem looked at the monitor and said:
"Seto — this is no longer a sa-ten. It's a place of prayer."
"It's a place to drink in peace."
"Same thing."
"…If you say so, I suppose it must be."
Drawing on afterlife atmospheric technology, air circulation and lighting control gave the finished space a quality of soft, suspended time.
The first location opened as a trial run.
Its name: Kaiba Sanctum Café.
Opening day.
The queue stretched for hundreds of meters.
Social media trends were dominated by phrases like:
"The President's café"
"Supervised by Atem"
"The scent of sacred ground"
The exterior: a simple black facade.
The interior: stillness itself. Every person who stepped inside instinctively lowered their voice.
At the counter, Atem sat drinking coffee at an unhurried pace.
Customers who noticed him caught their breath — and then, quite naturally, pressed their hands together.
It was, without question, an act of worship.
Atem smiled at Seto.
"Seto — it's quiet."
"Naturally. I built it."
"This quality of quiet is something the afterlife needs too."
"Are you planning to launch not 'teatime civilization' but 'civilization of silence' next?"
"Both are filled with love."
Seto gave a helpless look — and tilted his cup, somewhere between exasperation and satisfaction.
The café's air was something like a midpoint between the world and the afterlife, and every customer left with a quiet smile.
One month later.
Kaiba Sanctum Café had gained national recognition as "a place to drink coffee as if in prayer."
News coverage carried headlines like "pilgrimage café" and "mental reconstruction tearoom," and at least one university launched a study on its psychological effects.
"…The goal was simply to drink in peace."
"If silence heals people, it is civilization."
"You always expand things like this."
"Only as long as you're there to support them."
At Atem's unhurried words, the corner of Seto's mouth eased.
Outside the window, a night breeze moved through the light.
In the quiet, only their laughter carried — soft, and warm.
The café revolution: complete.
The gate of silence connecting the afterlife and the living world had opened.
Kaiba Corporation. An afternoon corner of the building.
The employee lounge.
Atem sat on a sofa, watching the steam rise from a cup of herbal tea.
His gaze settled on the employees on their break.
"Everyone says 'it calms me down,' don't they."
"Hm?"
A woman nearby blinked.
"This tea is good, and it does calm you down, doesn't it. The scent."
"Hm — so 'calming down' is a kind of preference?"
"…Preference?"
She laughed lightly and nodded.
"Well, a lot of people like it. It helps you relax."
"Relax?"
"Yes. Calming down equals relaxing."
Atem nodded and laced his fingers together, looking genuinely intrigued.
"Relaxation… I hadn't realized such a concept had developed so thoroughly among the living world's people."
"The President recently strengthened the relaxation program in our employee benefits too."
"Employee… benefits?"
"A support system for employees to maintain their physical and mental wellbeing."
The moment she began to elaborate, Atem stood up.
"I see. I'll ask Seto to explain."
"Oh — you mean the President?!"
Leaving the employee's voice behind him, Atem strode out — back perfectly straight, every inch a king.
He made his way, with the ease of someone who knew every inch of the building, directly to the president's office.
Seto was reviewing the next development project on his tablet.
A knock at the door.
He didn't need to ask.
"Come in."
Atem entered quietly and stood before the desk.
"Seto — explain something to me. What are employee benefits?"
"Where did you pick up that term this time."
"An employee was using them for the preference of 'calming down.'"
"…I see."
Seto pressed two fingers lightly to his temple and smiled, just slightly.
"You want to understand 'calming down'?"
"Understanding a preference leads to understanding a culture."
"…Fair enough."
Atem's eyes were bright with interest.
Seto had nothing but bad feelings about what was coming.
"So what did you hear about?"
"Apparently there are things called relaxation and head spa."
"……"
"Seto — I think I should experience these."
"Denied."
"Why?"
"I will not have strangers put their hands on you."
The immediacy of it made Atem blink — just once.
"Seto?"
"You heard 'relaxation' — don't worry. I'll do it."
"You will?"
"My precision is higher."
That night. The Kaiba mansion.
The lights were dimmed. Soft music played.
Atem sat on the sofa in a bathrobe.
Seto wrung out a towel, unhurried.
"This feels almost like a ritual."
"Calming down is, in a sense, close to ritual."
"Coming from you, that's reassuring."
Seto applied the warm towel to Atem's neck with practiced efficiency and worked his shoulders with light pressure.
Every motion: theoretical, precise. Pressure, angle, temperature — flawless.
"This is… it does calm you down."
"I thought it would."
"But…"
Atem smiled and looked up at Seto.
"When your hands are on me, it doesn't calm me down at all. It makes my heart race."
Seto's hands stopped — for just a moment.
"…That falls outside the definition of relaxation."
"So I can't calm down — because of you?"
"Theoretically, that isn't my responsibility."
"Under the theory of love, it absolutely is."
Atem's smile was soft — and entirely provocative.
Seto exhaled slowly and resumed.
"I can calm others. I can't calm you. That's what you are."
"That's fine. As long as it's your hands doing the disrupting."
A beat of silence.
The air held a quiet warmth.
The next morning.
The employee lounge.
For some reason, Atem was giving a lecture.
"'Calming down' is not an external stimulus — it is nothing other than inner stability."
"Hm…"
"In particular, relaxation through another person's hands is an expression of psychological trust."
"…What does that actually feel like?"
"Ask your President. He'll know."
Several seconds later, the company chat stirred.
【Breaking】The President apparently handles relaxation entirely in-house.
【Unofficial】Atem has been quoted saying "an expression of trust."
【Conclusion】Quantum marriage, as expected.
The report reached Seto.
He closed his tablet and exhaled, slowly.
"…It was, after all, impossible to make him understand 'calming down.'"
But the corner of his mouth held a smile he couldn't quite deny.
Kaiba Corporation had changed the world once more.
The new system — designed as "employee benefits to keep staff at their best" — analyzed each person's neural transmission rhythms and built an algorithm to guide them toward optimal rest.
Seto had built it in three days.
The result: employee productivity improved dramatically, and the stress index showed a statistical value that was, for all practical purposes, nonexistent.
Companies around the world rushed to replicate it. The success rate came in at under one percent.
And once again, journalists arrived at the same conclusion:
"Perhaps Kaiba Seto himself — that formidable, relentless presence — is, in the end, the greatest relaxation device of all."
Atem looked over that particular report and brought his cup to his lips.
"Seto — you don't use the word 'calm' very often."
"Do you think I need it?"
"No. …Neither do I."
Atem smiled a little and set down his cup.
"When I'm with you, I'm never calm. But I've never once found that unpleasant."
"Being unable to calm down is proof of being alive."
"I see. Then instead of 'calming down,' what we have is 'continuing to burn.'"
The King of the Afterlife and the king of the living world sat at the same table, drinking the same coffee.
Quiet — and yet burning through and through.
A restless happiness, undeniably present.
