Dining & Deals

The car glided to a stop not before a gleaming tower, but at the foot of a weathered, unassuming brick fortress perched on a cliff at the mouth of Oslo fjord. A discreet brass sign read Ankerhus. Stepping out, the evening air hit Rei like a revelation. Mirage City was a frantic, manufactured adolescent, a neon jungle growing in a once-dead canyon, its humidity a constant, clammy blanket. But here the sea air was cool, clean and carried a profound calm. The only thing that came close was the rarefied higher placed atmosphere of Aurora Cliffs, but Oslo seemed calmer, older and colder.

As Cillian peeled away to take his perimeter position, his sidearm glinting in the low, setting sun, Takumi offered Rei his arm. She took it, her senses overwhelmed, absorbing the city’s fusion of tradition, nature and modernity. “Do you know the story of this place?” she asked quietly, as they started towards the brick entrance, “After hearing Yumi’s stories, I got the impression you have… history here.” Takumi’s arm tensed under her hand, but his voice remained even, “I did spend some years stationed here.”

He deftly pivoted, his gaze sweeping over the ancient stone walls, “The history of Ankerhus is rich. It was established in the Middle Ages and has since been fought over countless times. But it has never been captured.” He led her through the main gate, “Naturally, the architecture changed. Once, even lightning struck and ruined parts of it.” He paused, his tone shifting, “During the Second World War, when Norway was invaded, Ankerhus was surrendered to the Germans. But to this day, even after several corporate wars, no adversary has successfully taken it… not by direct force at least.”

When they stepped inside the main building, Rei stopped short, her mouth falling open. The historic shell of the fortress remained, its rough, textured brick walls soaring upwards. But integrated seamlessly within, were spheres of glass and softly glowing screens. The effect was breathtaking; the ancient, sturdy rooms transformed into a delicate, historic soap bubble, light and legacy intertwined. The dining tables and chairs were of the same shade of translucent glass, appearing to float, while the candlesticks, vases, plates and cups were of rough, warm stoneware, grounding the ethereal space in the earth on which the fortress itself rested.

Takumi’s patience for Rei’s paralyzed awe lasted only as long as it took to scan the room. He spotted Bjorn easily, seated at the bar to the right. The Helix Apex CEO was already observing them, a half-smile on his face as he sipped a dark cocktail. He wore a brown and gold checkered suit, holding court in his own domain.

Bjorn’s eyes lit up as they landed on Rei, drinking in the sight of her in the molten silver dress. “Stunning,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble of appreciation. He took her hands, and his continental kisses against her cheeks were bolder this time, lingering more than a fraction too long, his breath warm against her skin.

Takumi’s corporate mask was flawless, a polite smile fixed in place, but Rei could feel the frustration radiating from him in nearly imperceptible waves. Her backless dress stopped just short of the throbbing, newly branded skin on her lower back. The soreness was a constant, sharp reminder of her afternoon, but the breathtaking restaurant and the promise of exquisite food provided a powerful distraction.

The handshake between the two men was a brief, tense affair, their grips perfectly calibrated to communicate strength and a mutual, resolute temper without descending into overt hostility. “Let’s start with a drink,” Bjorn declared, gesturing to the bar and his own nearly empty glass, “I’ve already taken the liberty.” He offered Rei his barstool, a sculpted glass seat balanced on a solid ceramic foot shaped like a tree trunk. It was a gesture of old-world chivalry that felt entirely calculated. The two men remained standing on either side of her.

Rei picked up the cocktail menu, her eyes scanning the options. The bar itself was a masterpiece of fusion: segments of ancient, restored wood, each with its own unique grain and patina, were assembled and preserved within a river of transparent epoxy, making the past literally the foundation of the present. Rei scanned the room over her drinks menu, still mesmerized. The entire space was a dialogue between epochs: the rough, such as the historic walls contrasting with transparent furnishings, everything either ancient or utterly see-through.

Takumi didn’t bother with the menu. “The Akvavit Martini,” he told the bartender, his order revealing a prior familiarity with the establishment that he hadn’t voiced. Rei chose something called a Northern Ember, described as smoky mezcal tempered with lingonberry and a sharp twist of lemon.

As their drinks were being prepared, Takumi didn’t waste a second. “I trust you’ve taken the time to review the revised contract I sent over?” he began, his tone smooth as silk. Bjorn ignored the question entirely, instead sweeping a hand to encompass the room. “This restaurant has won ‘Best Restaurant in the World’ twice in a row,” he stated, his voice full of pride. “They lost the title last year to Le Ciel Blanc,” he admitted with a shrug, “But when it comes to seafood, Ankerhus will always be the true winner.”

Rei took a tentative sip of her cocktail as it arrived, the smoky and sour notes a perfect counterpoint to the tension. “Are you a foodie, Bjorn?” she asked, steering the conversation into safer, less pushy waters. He laughed, a genuine, hearty sound, “Guilty as charged.” Then he turned to Takumi, his gaze softening just a degree, “It’s one of the few things, I think Takumi and I can truly see eye to eye on.”

Takumi offered an enigmatic smile, raising his newly arrived martini, “I would argue we have more in common than you’re implying, Bjorn. But either way…”, he lifted his glass higher, “…here’s to seeing eye to eye.” The toast hung in the air, a fragile truce over drinks, in a room where the past was preserved with clear materials and the future as transparent as Bjorn’s insistence on avoiding the subject of the Eidolon deal.

After having ordered the full tasting menu with wine pairings for all of them, Bjorn took a sip of the crisp, mineral-rich Riesling that accompanied the first course. The first two courses arrived soon after, each a miniature landscape on a rough stoneware plate. The amuse-bouche was a series of delicate ‘sea stones’, crispy shells shaped like pebbles that dissolved on the tongue to release a cold, briny burst of oyster emulsion mixed with different root vegetables. As they ate, the conversation was a delicate dance, mirroring the food’s precision.

Bjorn turned to Rei, his eyes crinkling, “And you, my dear? Are you a food lover?” Rei’s face lit up, a genuine, unguarded smile transforming her features. “Guilty as well. It’s hereditary really. You see, my mother was an Italian chef,” she shared, a note of nostalgia in her voice, “Though she also specialized in Japanese cuisine.”

A look of pure, triumphant delight spread across Bjorn’s face. It was as if he’d just uncovered a priceless secret, “Is that so? Growing up with an Italian chef of Japanese food. How wonderfully singular.” With every layer he uncovered, his fascination seemed to grow.

The silence after that moment of uncomplicated exchange, was when Takumi chose to strike. He dabbed his lips with the terracotta linen napkin, his movements economical. “I’m losing patience with your reluctance to discuss the Eidolon deal, Bjorn,” he began, his tone perfectly polite, though his eyes were glacial slivers of slate, “It was you who proposed we finalize the details over dinner, yet you continue to avoid the subject…”

Bjorn smiled, clearly enjoying the annoyance he was provoking. He steepled his fingers, observing Takumi for a long, loaded moment. “I know, I know – sorry for stalling,” his tone shifting into one of admission, “I promise I will stop… soon. It’s only because the Eidolon concept, and the team behind it, truly inspire me. It gives one pause.”

Takumi’s eyes narrowed as he took an intentionally lengthy sip of his wine. The conversation lulled as the next course arrived: a dramatic composition that looked like a miniature, frost-kissed cliff. They ate quietly for a few moments, the delicate shell of the ‘cliff’ cracking to reveal a warm, foamy mist, beneath which a perfectly textured, pickled herring rested.

Not wanting to address the contract directly, Bjorn turned his flattery into a more personal probe. He looked at Rei, “Tell me Rei, what are your visions for the ultimate Eidolon?” The question was both open and deeply personal. Takumi tensed, his fork hovering over his plate. He sent a disciplinary glare her way, a silent command to be careful. Then, with a soft, almost imperceptible blink, he granted his permission. Musings, when asked.