Urban LitRPG System-Chapter 95: Dinner, Mess & Solution. (1/3)

The room settled into a brief pause as everyone waited. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

" Ahem. "

The soft clearing of a throat came from the doorway.

Aaron Müller stepped back into the private room, composed as before, and behind her Finn appeared as well, looking slightly breathless like he had rushed in from the parking area.

For a brief second the entire table turned toward the entrance.

Now everyone was present inside Dallmayr — the people who were expected to attend, and even those who had arrived by coincidence — and the dinner that was meant to solve one problem had quietly turned into a gathering that might decide much more.

Aaron returned to the table and took the seat beside her husband Linn with quiet composure, her movements controlled and natural as if formal dinners like this were part of her everyday routine.

Finn followed just a step behind her and took the chair beside his mother, his eyes moving around the table with visible curiosity and a hint of shock, because the atmosphere felt far more serious than the kind of dinners he usually enjoyed.

Normally he would crack a joke or tease someone the moment he sat down, but with his mother present — and seeing the calm authority she carried — Finn simply adjusted his posture and stayed quiet, deciding this was not the moment to be his usual loud self.

Max glanced toward the restaurant maître d’ (Head Waiter), who had been standing discreetly near the entrance of the private room, and gave a subtle nod signaling that all guests had arrived and the dinner could begin.

The maître d’ responded with a polite bow of acknowledgment before quietly instructing the service staff. Within moments the first course arrived, carried in with careful coordination, the plates placed gently before each guest.

The dish was presented with the understated elegance Dallmayr was known for — a delicate appetizer of lightly cured Bavarian char with citrus and herb oil, arranged with precise attention to detail.

Thin translucent slices of the fish rested neatly across the center of the plate, glistening under the warm light, accented with small dots of citrus gel, finely chopped herbs, and a drizzle of emerald-green oil that carried a subtle aroma. Beside it sat a small garnish of seasonal greens and micro herbs, adding both color and texture to the composition.

Crystal glasses caught the candlelight as waiters moved quietly around the table, pouring water and wine with smooth, practiced motions, while the atmosphere remained relaxed and refined.

" Tell me now, what bothers you, Max? How have you involved yourself in this mess? "

Aaron said it calmly after taking the first bite from her dish, her expression unchanged as she placed the fork down neatly, the question delivered in the same composed tone she would use during a formal meeting rather than casual dinner conversation.

Max and the girls had clearly reacted differently to the food, their expressions briefly showing genuine surprise at how refined the taste was, the balance of citrus and herbs far beyond what they expected, but Aaron showed no outward reaction, eating with the quiet discipline of someone accustomed to high-end dining and serious discussions happening at the same time.

" Well... Jennifer, if you would please. "

Max said politely, turning his head slightly toward Jennifer and giving her the floor, because this situation began with her, and it was better if she explained it in her own words rather than him speaking for her.

Jennifer immediately looked nervous, her shoulders tightening slightly as she felt the attention shift toward her, because sitting across from the Deputy Mayor of Munich while explaining a situation involving a criminal was far from a normal conversation.

Her fingers tightened lightly around the fork before she slowly placed it down, her mind searching for where to even begin explaining something that had spiraled so far beyond her.

Max gently placed his hand on Jennifer’s thigh under the table, the touch subtle but firm enough to steady her nerves. Jennifer had opened her mouth to speak, her voice almost catching in her throat from nervousness, but feeling the reassuring weight of his hand she relaxed slightly, a small smile appearing on her face as she gathered herself.

" Bronte went to the USA a few years ago. My sister met him there and fell in love with him. They eventually got married. At the time I believed he was simply a German businessman since he spent most of his time living here. A few years into their marriage my sister’s mental condition started to deteriorate, so I moved to Munich and took a teaching position at LMU. I am also a medical doctor. "

Jennifer paused briefly, choosing her words carefully before continuing.

" What I didn’t know back then was that Bronte was involved in drug trafficking... and that my sister had already become addicted. At some point she tried to escape with money — though in truth it was his money. He filed a report against her, and she was arrested for possession of a large amount of illegal narcotics. She is currently in prison because of that. "

As Jennifer was about to continue speaking, the maître d’ quietly entered the private room with a polite bow, signaling the arrival of the second course. Behind him, two servers followed in perfect coordination, each carrying large porcelain plates with careful precision.

Danica and Jennifer still had traces of the first dish on their plates — Danica had barely touched hers after hearing the story unfold, and Jennifer had been too focused on explaining everything to even notice the food in front of her.

Max lightly tapped Jennifer’s thigh again under the table, a subtle signal for her to pause, not because her story wasn’t important, but because the service flow of a restaurant like Dallmayr followed strict rhythm, and interrupting it would only create unnecessary attention. Jennifer understood immediately and stayed quiet.

Max then stood up from his chair calmly and stepped toward the serving tray, taking one of the plates himself before the server could place it down. With composed manners he personally set the dish in front of the Müller couple first, the gesture both respectful and appropriate considering they were the most senior guests at the table.

The second course was a warm appetizer, a refined preparation of pan-seared Atlantic scallops served with a delicate cauliflower purée and a light champagne beurre blanc.

Two perfectly caramelized scallops rested at the center of the plate, their golden crust contrasting with the silky pale purée beneath them. Small roasted baby vegetables and micro herbs added color around the dish, while the buttery champagne sauce was lightly spooned along the edge, releasing a subtle aroma that immediately filled the air with richness.

The presentation was minimal yet elegant, every element arranged with precision, the kind of dish designed to be both visually balanced and layered in flavor — unmistakably at the level expected from Dallmayr’s kitchen.

After placing the plate before Aaron Müller, Max stepped back toward his seat as the servers continued distributing the rest of the dishes around the table with quiet efficiency, the conversation naturally pausing for a moment as the new course settled before everyone.

After the servers quietly left the private room and the door closed behind them, the atmosphere returned to its earlier calm. Max subtly gestured toward Jennifer with a small motion of his hand, signaling her to start eating first, because Aaron had already taken a few bites while wearing a slight frown, clearly thinking about something carefully rather than focusing on the food.

" Ahem... Bronte is not someone to take lightly. You’re fortunate that I happened to be the one sitting here tonight, and that Finn has a connection with Max. Otherwise, situations like this rarely end neatly. "

Aaron said it slowly, the words carrying visible weight as she set her fork down for a moment. Her expression showed genuine concern, not exaggeration, because people like Bronte operated in complicated circles where law, influence, and silence often mixed together.

Max nodded quietly, acknowledging the truth in her words, and Jennifer did the same. Aaron wasn’t trying to scare them — she was simply stating reality.

Bronte wasn’t just some small criminal; he was a figure with deep connections across the city. Owning a large villa in one of Munich’s most prestigious neighborhoods alone suggested the level of influence he carried, and people at that level almost always had relationships within political and administrative circles as well.

" So tell me... what exactly does he want? A quiet settlement? A favor? Or are we talking about something more elaborate than simply closing your sister’s case? "

Aaron asked directly, her tone sharper now, the question precise and intelligent, because she preferred understanding the structure of a problem before even thinking about how it could be solved.

" Eight hundred fifty thousand euros. In exchange, he withdraws the case, releases her sister from his grip, and walks away like nothing ever happened. "

Max said it himself before Jennifer could speak again, his tone calm and direct, cutting through the situation without unnecessary explanation. He had already told Jennifer earlier not to go too deep into emotional details or discuss her sister extensively, but she had done it anyway out of nervousness, so this time he simply moved the conversation straight to the core of the matter.

Aaron gave a slow nod after hearing the number, her expression unreadable, but she didn’t respond immediately. For a brief moment Max waited, expecting a comment or a question, but none came, then he understood why.

A knock came at the door.

The maître d’ entered once again with a quiet bow, followed by two servers carrying the next course with the same practiced elegance. Max glanced at Aaron for a second.

So she knows exactly how the service works here...

The realization came instantly. She had timed her silence perfectly, letting the restaurant’s service flow interrupt the conversation rather than answering in the middle of it. It wasn’t hesitation — it was control.