Chapter 38

The Game Café

The notification arrived without warning.

Usinomics stared at the screen.

A new community challenge had been issued.

This time, it was not enough to host a simple tea party.

It was not enough to place tables, serve snacks, and wait for visitors.

The challenge required something bigger.

Something memorable.

Something entertaining.

A game party.

A destination.

An attraction.

Usinomics leaned back in thought.

An amusement park would have been ideal.

Unfortunately, amusement parks required skills, resources, and patience that exceeded the current limits of Moo66 construction technology.

For several minutes, the room remained silent.

Then inspiration struck.

A dangerous kind of inspiration.

The kind that usually creates more problems than solutions.

The idea sounded perfectly reasonable.

At least for the first five seconds.

Soon, images from countless films appeared in Usinomics’s imagination.

Towering public institutions.

Massive entrances.

Rows of pillars.

Security gates.

Interrogation rooms.

Detention cells.

A place that looked serious from the outside yet concealed something entirely unexpected within.

A café.

A maze.

A game.

And thus, the concept of the Moo66 Game Café was born.

Construction began immediately.

The entrance was designed with dark pillars and broad walkways.

Green-and-white pathways guided visitors toward the main gate.

Traffic signals stood beside the entrance.

Signs warned against troublemakers.

Decorative security fences surrounded the property.

The building itself rose proudly from the landscape like a futuristic metropolitan police headquarters.

Inside, however, things became considerably stranger.

The first floor contained a café.

Computer terminals lined the counters.

Guests could sit, relax, and enjoy refreshments before beginning the challenge.

Nearby stood indoor agricultural plots arranged with perfect symmetry.

Rows of crops grew beneath the observation areas.

Efficient.

Orderly.

Practical.

Very Usinomics.

At the center of the structure sat the detention block.

Four compact holding cells.

Each equipped with its own toilet.

Each visible through reinforced observation doors.

The design reflected practicality rather than comfort.

Security came first.

A lesson learned from countless detective films.

One particular cell attracted immediate attention.

Inside sat a polar bear.

A very suspicious polar bear.

The charges were unusual.

Public indecency.

The suspect had allegedly appeared wearing nothing except a single pair of underwear.

Further investigation was required.

Particularly because the polar bear continuously produced snow from both paws.

Medical examination had been recommended.

Several officers remained confused.

The second floor contained two interrogation rooms.

Large observation windows allowed investigators to monitor interviews while recording evidence.

Tables held recording devices and storage equipment.

Every detail had been planned carefully.

Every detail had a purpose.

Or at least a purpose that made sense to Usinomics.

The conference room overlooked the entire facility.

Large windows provided views across the farmland, the holding area, and the surrounding district.

The space felt professional.

Important.

Almost official.

Almost.

The rooftop represented the final objective.

The goal.

The destination.

The finish line.

Guests who successfully navigated the maze below would emerge onto an elevated terrace overlooking the landscape.

A relaxation area had been prepared.

Comfortable seating.

Decorations.

An aquarium.

Refreshments.

And, most importantly, a spa.

Visitors could soak in warm water while overlooking the town below.

Showers had been installed.

Cosmetics had been prepared.

Towels had been arranged.

Everything had been designed for comfort.

Everything had been designed for celebration.

Everything had been designed perfectly.

Or so it seemed.

The blueprint was complete.

The maze worked.

The café worked.

The rooftop worked.

The challenge worked.

The building looked magnificent beneath the morning sun.

Its white walls gleamed.

Its black pillars stood proudly.

From a distance, it resembled a major government facility.

From nearby, it resembled something between a police headquarters, a prison, a café, and an amusement attraction.

Which somehow made perfect sense inside the world of Moo66.

There was only one remaining step.

Implementation.

Usinomics returned to Moo66.

The original district blueprint was carefully saved.

Preparations were completed.

A deep breath followed.

Then the transformation began.

The consequences were immediate.

Every crop returned to inventory.

Every flower returned to inventory.

Every decoration returned to inventory.

Every unused object returned to storage.

The backpack filled.

The storage boxes filled.

The warehouses filled.

The entire district appeared to explode into thousands of individual components.

For a brief moment, civilization itself seemed to collapse.

Hours passed.

Construction crews worked.

Systems processed.

Furniture appeared.

Walls emerged.

The police headquarters stood complete.

Or nearly complete.

The final inspection report arrived.

Several objects were missing.

A table.

A refrigerator.

A section of fencing.

A few decorative elements.

Minor issues.

Nothing catastrophic.

Usinomics quickly manufactured replacements.

The missing pieces were installed.

The structure was completed.

The party settings were configured.

Everything was ready.

Finally.

At last.

Success.

Then the message appeared.

“Party creation unavailable.”

“Required blueprint objects are missing.”

Silence.

Usinomics stared at the screen.

The screen stared back.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

Several minutes passed.

The message remained unchanged.

The party could not begin.

The building existed.

The maze existed.

The café existed.

The rooftop spa existed.

The polar bear existed.

Everything existed.

And yet the party could not begin.

A second notification appeared.

To restore the original Moo66 blueprint, additional construction materials would be required.

Forty color materials.

One hundred acorns each.

Four thousand acorns total.

Usinomics calculated the cost.

Then calculated it again.

Then decided not to calculate it a third time.

Usinomics muttered,

The materials were purchased.

The restoration process began.

Hours of construction vanished.

The police headquarters disappeared.

The detention cells disappeared.

The café disappeared.

The rooftop spa disappeared.

The polar bear disappeared.

And slowly, piece by piece, Moo66 returned.

By sunset, everything stood exactly where it had before.

As though none of it had happened.

As though the entire day had been a dream.

Usinomics stood quietly in the fading light.

The wind crossed the familiar streets of Moo66.

The district looked normal again.

Peaceful.

Comfortable.

Home.

After a long silence, Usinomics finally spoke.

No answer came.

Only the evening breeze.

And somewhere in the distance, perhaps, the faint sound of a very confused polar bear.

Tomorrow would surely be a better day. 

Chapter 38

The Game Café

Continued

For several precious hours, the Moo66 Game Café truly existed.

It had not been a dream.

It had not been an illusion.

The walls had stood beneath the sky.

The black pillars had risen with authority.

The rooftop had caught the light.

The entrance had waited for guests.

And for a brief moment in the long and strange history of Moo66, the impossible building became real.

Construction workers had come and gone in a rush of noise, dust, sparks, and movement.

The electrical lines had only just been completed.

The gas line had not yet been connected.

The café kitchen was not ready for proper cooking.

The heating system was unfinished.

The official party settings had not been approved.

But hospitality could not wait for perfect infrastructure.

Not in Moo66.

Not when guests had already arrived.

The first guest was Mayor Butanomics.

He arrived with the calm dignity of a leader who had seen many strange things in his political career and had wisely decided not to be surprised by any of them.

Beside him stood Moo.

Quiet.

Observant.

As if Moo already understood that this building was not merely a café, but a turning point in the future of the district.

The third visitor was Liana Greenfield, Chairwoman of Emerald Green Market.

She stood at the entrance in an elegant emerald-toned outfit, her expression bright with curiosity and confidence.

She did not look at the unfinished wires.

She did not complain about the missing gas line.

She did not question why a café looked suspiciously like a metropolitan police headquarters.

Instead, she looked at the build

Liana adjusted his tie and smiled.

he said.

Usinomics blinked.

The offer sounded less like a business proposal and more like the beginning of a partnership.

Liana looked up toward the rooftop terrace.

His smile widened.

Usinomics hurried to welcome them.

There was no grand banquet prepared.

There were no elaborate dishes.

There was no official catering service.

There was only one thing Usinomics could serve.

A steamed pancake cake.

It had been inspired by a poem.

A recipe hidden inside a piece of writing called The Rice Cooker Cake, published in IMARIN KINGDOM.

At first, it had seemed like an ordinary poem.

A quiet kitchen.

A simple morning.

Pancake mix, an egg, vegetables, water, and a rice cooker.

But as Usinomics read it more carefully, the poem revealed something deeper.

Not just a mood.

Not just a memory.

A method.

A process.

A way to create food when the world was still incomplete.

And so, inside an unfinished game café with no working gas line, Usinomics prepared hospitality through improvisation.

The steamed pancake cake was warm.

Soft.

Simple.

And somehow perfect for the moment.

Usinomics placed the cake before the guests.

Mayor Butanomics looked at the cake.

Then at the building.

Then at Usinomics.

His expression remained serious.

But there was warmth behind it.

 he said.

Usinomics nodded.

 Usinomics explained,

The words hung in the air.

For a moment, even the unfinished walls seemed to listen.

Mayor Butanomics folded his hands.

 he said. 

He looked toward the entrance, where the road beyond Moo66 stretched toward travelers, tourists, and wandering guests.

Usinomics listened carefully.

The words were not only advice.

They were a warning.

A café could be beautiful.

A game could be clever.

A building could be impressive.

But without hospitality, it would become nothing more than walls.

Then Liana Greenfield stepped forward.

The Chairwoman of Emerald Green Market smiled with the confidence of someone who understood supply chains better than most people understood weather.

he said.

He did not look at the unfinished wires.

He did not complain about the missing gas line.

He did not question why a café looked suspiciously like a metropolitan police headquarters.

Usinomics blinked.

Liana continued.

The words struck Usinomics with unexpected force.

For the first time that day, the Game Café no longer felt like an impossible construction project.

It felt like a future.

Liana looked up at the building.

he said with a confident smile.

Usinomics looked at the polished floors, the black railings, the rooftop beyond, and the unfinished rooms waiting to be filled with purpose.

A game café.

A public attraction.

A place for travelers.

A place for stories.

Perhaps even a landmark.

Then a soft laugh came from nearby.

It was gentle, but clear enough to turn everyone’s attention.

A young woman wearing a delicate handmade hat stood near the entrance.

She did not look like a government official.

She did not look like a business executive.

She did not look like a tourist either.

She looked like someone who had simply found her way into the story.

 she said.

Usinomics smiled.

For all the complicated planning, this was the moment that mattered most.

Not the architecture.

Not the inspection report.

Not the blueprint.

Not the cost.

A guest had arrived.

A real guest.

Someone willing to play.

Usinomics stepped forward and answered with a warm expression.

Nearby, Shibanomics barked happily.

The black Shiba Inu seemed to understand the importance of the moment better than anyone.

Her tail moved with proud excitement.

The building was unfinished.

The future was uncertain.

The game system was not yet approved.

But people had gathered.

Food had been served.

A dog had welcomed the guests.

For a little while, Moo66 Game Café was alive.

Outside, the building stood beneath the sky like a strange monument to ambition.

It was too serious to be only a café.

Too welcoming to be only a police station.

Too strange to be official.

Too charming to be ignored.

The flowers lined the front like witnesses.

The pillars cast long shadows across the path.

Somewhere inside, the holding cells waited.

Somewhere above, the rooftop spa waited.

And somewhere in the logic of the world, the system was already preparing to reject everything.

But no one knew that yet.

For those few hours, the dream remained intact.

Then the restoration began.

Moo66 was rebuilt again.

The Game Café disappeared.

The grand public building vanished.

The police-station-like walls were replaced by the familiar structure of home.

The rooms that had briefly held possibility dissolved into memory.

The café counters.

The interrogation rooms.

The cells.

The rooftop spa.

The game route.

All of it faded back into the system.

Usinomics stood there quietly, watching the world rearrange itself.

And then Usinomics understood.

The guests had gone.

Mayor Butanomics.

Moo.

Liana Greenfield.

The woman in the handmade hat.

They had all left the place that no longer existed.

Yet, when Usinomics looked into the distance, they were there.

Far away, beyond the restored Moo66, three figures stood beneath the light.

Mayor Butanomics raised one hand.

Liana Greenfield smiled and waved.

Moo stood beside them, quietly watching.

And for a moment, it felt as if they were not saying goodbye.

They were saying:

Build again.

Try again.

Do not waste the lesson.

Usinomics raised a hand in return.

The Game Café had failed.

The party had never begun.

The blueprint had not been accepted.

Four thousand acorns had disappeared into restoration materials.

But the day had not been meaningless.

For a few precious hours, people had gathered inside a building that should not have existed.

A cake had been served before the gas line was ready.

A mayor had given advice.

A market chairwoman had offered support.

A future player had appeared.

And Shibanomics had barked with joy.

That was enough to make the failed construction feel strangely important.

The sun lowered over Moo66.

The evening breeze passed through the restored district.

Usinomics looked at the familiar buildings and smiled faintly.

Tomorrow, there would be more work.

More materials to gather.

More blueprints to improve.

More impossible ideas to test.

The Game Café had disappeared.

But the story had not.

Some buildings are not completed in a single day.

Some dreams must fail once before they learn how to stand.

And somewhere beyond the horizon, the future of Moo66 was already waiting.

Eight thousand acorns had disappeared into construction and restoration costs.

Valuable furniture had been sold.

Rare cards had changed hands.

Event food had vanished from storage.

Even prized fish had been sacrificed to balance the budget.

Usinomics had spent the evening not as an architect, but as an accountant desperately trying to recover from his own ambitious idea.

The Game Café had disappeared.

Eight thousand acorns had disappeared.

Several rare items had disappeared.

The polar bear had disappeared.

Yet somehow, the story remained.

Tomorrow would surely be a better day.

— End of Chapter 38 —