So far, Solomon had encountered the "village chief" of Newbie Land, Coulson, and the "guide," Tony Stark. If he counted Matt Murdock, he felt like a Pokémon trainer, out to collect heroes as though he were aspiring to be the champion—meeting future heroes at every turn. But unlike a trainer, Solomon always chose the "run away" option. He didn't want trouble. These people were indeed good, kind even, but precisely because of this, Solomon felt that he didn't quite fit in with these street heroes.
Besides, Bayonetta and Jeanne were waiting to eat his cake. That was far more important than a lot of things.
After returning to his apartment, Solomon quickly showered, then put on a clean shirt and an apron before unpacking his ingredients. Setting aside the meat and vegetables, he focused on the sugar, eggs, fruit, and cream to start making dessert. Once Jeanne finished work, he planned to pick up Bayonetta from Athena's apartment (another task), and by then, dinner would be ready, and the desserts chilled to the perfect temperature in the fridge.
First, Solomon fished the plums out of the plum wine, chopped them into small pieces, and lightly dusted them with cornstarch. Then he separated the egg whites and yolks, adding softened butter and plum wine to the yolks in stages and blending them until smooth and creamy. Next, he sifted in low-gluten flour and mixed it evenly with the batter.
As he worked through each step, Solomon's hands never touched any of the ingredients; only his wand made contact with them. This was the power of magic—using the spell Minor Wishcraft allowed him to whisk the egg yolk mixture and beat the egg whites with sugar until they reached stiff peaks, all without needing an electric mixer. Solomon folded the meringue into the batter in three additions, adding in the chopped plums, poured the mixture into a mold, tapped out the bubbles, and placed it in the preheated oven at 180 degrees Celsius for twenty-five minutes.
He also prepared a non-alcoholic strawberry chiffon cake, decorating the plum wine cake with raisins and the strawberry chiffon with sliced strawberries. His plan was to take this cake to the orphanage after dinner to share with the kids.
The next dessert was a wine jelly, a simple recipe. He brought a pot of water to a boil, dissolved white sugar, added softened gelatin sheets, a bit of lemon juice, and red wine, simmering for a minute before pouring it into a large glass bowl. Using magic, he cooled the mixture quickly, having also placed a few cherries at the bottom of the bowl, suspended by a spell to make them look as though they had just been dropped into the liquid.
Satisfied with his work, Solomon was jolted by the sound of the doorbell. He glanced at his watch—it wasn't Jeanne's quitting time. He quickly tidied up the table, cleared away scattered flour and egg residue, pocketed his wand, and opened the door. One look outside, and he closed the door without a word, ignoring the person standing on the other side.
"Hey!" A black leather shoe wedged itself in the doorframe, blocking him from closing it. Solomon gave the door a push, then pulled hard. A dull scraping sound left a white scuff on the glossy shoe, and the man outside let out a pained yelp.
"Do you always hate guests this much?" he called out. "It took some effort to find your location, but I didn't expect you'd be so unwelcoming!"
"I don't welcome uninvited guests," Solomon replied coldly, reopening the door and looking at the guest outside. It was as if all warmth had been drained from him, leaving only his icy words. "That includes you, Tony Stark."
"Wow, that's a first—I've never been unwelcome." Stark tried to sidle into the apartment, but Solomon didn't budge an inch. "Can I?" he asked, gesturing toward the entrance with a faux polite finger. "You really don't want to talk?"
Given Stark's height, Solomon could meet his gaze directly. He stared at Stark until the man's expression turned awkward. After a moment, he spoke. "Talk about what?"
"Are you sure you want to have this conversation here?" Tony Stark raised an eyebrow, pulling his mouth into an exaggeratedly dubious expression. "Listen, kid," he said. "I don't know what your daily life is like, but talking about aliens out in the open is probably not wise. For most people, life is still pretty normal. Just like everything else."
"We're at my door; nobody's coming."
"If we keep standing here, though, your downstairs neighbor is going to come up with a broom. She looked annoyed when I passed her on the stairs. Happy can back me up on that, right?"
"Correct." Stark's burly bodyguard nodded earnestly behind him.
"Plus, I can smell dessert from here… and I'd be happy to try some." Stark retracted his foot and flashed what he thought was his most charming smile.
"Only you," Solomon said, somewhat curious about why Tony Stark had come. Whatever it was, it was unlikely to involve Asgard—Thor's arrival was still about a year away. Stark must have another reason, possibly because Solomon had been ignoring his calls, making Stark agitated enough to show up at his door.
"Oh, and remember to take off your shoes. I have guest slippers, and I don't want my floor dirtied."
"Got it. Happy, you stay here. Don't just stand around; go grab something to eat downstairs. I'll call when I'm done," Stark said, waving him off as he followed Solomon inside. Stark reluctantly slipped on the prepared guest slippers, though his face betrayed his distaste for the pink color.
When he entered the living room, his attention was immediately drawn to the kitchen, where ingredients and utensils flew through the air as if enchanted. He watched as knives floated, slicing meat with precision, vegetables scrubbed themselves clean, and spatulas and frying pans cooked the food independently. Even a washcloth turned on the faucet, dancing with a scrub brush and detergent as suds filled the sink.
"Wow! It's like a fairy tale." Stark plopped onto the couch facing the TV. "Is this how you live all the time?" Solomon didn't answer but instead took a small glass bowl of wine jelly from the fridge, set it with a silver spoon before Stark, and gestured him to the guest couch across from him. "I think you should be answering my questions now," he said, waving Stark over to the proper spot. "Why are you here?"
"For a lot of reasons. Uh, did you make this, or is it magic? Maybe it's secretly worms? I didn't expect it to taste this good," Stark replied, casually commenting on the living room decor as if he hadn't heard Solomon's question.
"Nice doormat at the door—where'd you get it?"
"I wove it myself…" That doormat was indeed his handiwork. If an unauthorized person entered, the mat would animate and wrap around the intruder until they either suffocated or suffered broken ribs causing internal bleeding.
"Quite the multi-talented fellow. Do you cook all the time?"
"Yes."
"And your girlfriend? It's not in the S.H.I.E.L.D. files, but I know you have a charming girlfriend."
"Not your business."
"This fat cat…"
"Meow!" The Cheshire Cat leapt onto the couch and slapped Stark across the face with a paw. Stark rubbed his cheek, looking at the cat in surprise. "Alright, I won't mention you. Listen, Hogwarts wizard, I get that you hate people disturbing your life…"
"That's right!" Solomon nodded, "So once you finish dessert, feel free to leave. And I don't like nicknames."
Stark clenched his jaw, looking aside awkwardly. He hadn't expected Solomon to be so quick to show him the door, but he pressed on anyway. "I'm curious what you're doing at Eton. You haven't invented anything since you enrolled—seems like a waste for someone like you."
"Magic is my calling, and magic is science; it involves precise calculations and…" Solomon began his usual rebuttal until he saw the gleam in Stark's eyes. "No," he said firmly, "don't even think about it. Otherwise, when your bodyguard comes up, all he'll find is a pig in clothes."
"You know curses?"
"It's not a curse; it's transfiguration!"
"Okay, okay, no need to get excited. I'm here for several reasons, but mainly, I wanted to ask you one thing." Tony Stark raised his hands, signaling for patience. "One thing. Just one."
"What?"
"Have you ever heard of…the Tesseract?"
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