You call this a projection?

Through the Stand power of [Judgement].

Using earth-fabrication techniques sophisticated enough to pass for reality, Cameo had created a perfect physical replica of the restaurant owner. Controlling this clay puppet, he had quietly and covertly removed the waiter who previously blocked his entry—and indeed, every single staff member in the establishment—replacing them with his own people.

Or rather, after using [Judgement] to grant the wishes of another companion to create a horde of replacement waiters and chefs, Cameo had completed his preparations. He was finally able to manipulate these clay puppets to serve the meal.

To serve Shirou Emiya and the others a ”grand feast,” Cameo had specifically selected soil containing radioactive materials. He used his Stand to craft these radioactive clumps into the very dishes the group had ordered.

Being encased by a Stand power was one thing. Just as the puppets he created were made of clay but were indistinguishable from real humans, the food appeared genuine. However, once these items made of earth were ”destroyed”—or in this case, digested—they would revert to their raw materials.

Which meant delivering that radioactive soil directly into the stomachs of Shirou and the others!

However...

—”My partner for this collaboration truly is a freak.”

—”Even though the things created by [Judgement] are fakes, they are fakes that can deceive the world!”

—”I thought if that guy wished for treasure, I could split the gold from selling it and make a quick fortune on the side.”

—”But that fool actually wished to my [Judgement] for nothing more than ’more rapier blades’?”

Even recalling the experience now, Cameo was utterly speechless regarding his companion. If only his [Judgement] could work on himself—if only it didn’t require the wishes of others to trigger its power—would he ever share the loot? He would have used the ability to churn out treasures alone, getting rich off those realistic fakes.

There would be no need to drop hints to a partner for ”help” or to work himself to the bone taking mercenary contracts from DIO.

—”Forget it, why am I thinking about this? If that guy doesn’t value the chance to make extra cash, that’s his business.”

—”In any case, the Joestars are doomed to be finished off by me, Cameo. Lord DIO’s reward will be mine alone!”

—”Joseph Joestar! Enjoy your last supper!”

With a look of absolute confidence, Cameo manipulated the clay waiters to place the radioactive food onto the table.

”The chicken soup is here~~

This is our signature chicken soup. Honored guests, you must savor it carefully~~!”

”Is that so? Then I must give it a try.” Prompted by the waiter-puppet’s professional smile, Joseph paused the previous discussion.

As he reached out to open the lid of the special ceramic tureen containing the soup, he began introducing the dish to Jotaro and the others. ”Since I’ve been to Hong Kong a few times before, I’ve made a point to learn about Cantonese-style soups.

Unlike the soups we usually drink, Cantonese soup involves placing the ingredients into these small containers and simmering them for at least three to five hours. This allows the flavors to fully permeate the broth. Furthermore, they don’t add too many seasonings during the process—no cream, no cheese. They preserve the original flavor of the ingredients, giving it a taste quite unlike the soups we are used to.”

After all, what was soup usually like in the West, especially Europe and America? It was basically a thick purée. Rather than soup, it was more like a dip for bread. Under these circumstances, Cantonese soup, stewed with its unique methods, naturally offered a distinct experience.

As he spoke, Joseph’s appetite grew, and he couldn’t wait to revisit this unique aspect of Eastern culinary culture.

But just before he could, Jotaro, sitting beside him, suddenly grabbed the lid Joseph had just set down and slammed it back onto the tureen.

Blocking Joseph’s attempt to take a sip, Jotaro said, ”Hold on, Old Man. You aren’t seriously planning to just drink that, are you?”

”?”

”We literally just survived an enemy attack. Are you sure the enemy hasn’t infiltrated this place to poison us?” Jotaro’s words caused Avdol and the others, who had been tempted by Joseph’s description, to immediately halt their movements.

Even Shirou Emiya hesitated. Although in the plot of his previous life, there were no issues with the restaurant the group chose after the plane crash—at least, no issues with the food—in that timeline, Kakyoin and Gray Fly hadn’t teamed up to attack them on a private jet either.

Since he had already interfered with the original ”plot,” how the story developed from here on meant his memories could only serve as a reference.

”Surely not. This is a restaurant chosen at random by the SPW Foundation. Forget the enemy; even we only just found out the address,” Joseph argued. ”Besides, even if enemies did sneak in, we only have to ask the waiters to know if they’ve hired any new staff lately.”

Despite his words, Joseph didn’t actually drink the soup. Instead, as he spoke, he turned his gaze toward the clay waiters standing nearby.

—”That damn Jotaro! How dare he ruin my plans!”

Cameo, observing from the shadows, was fuming. He was seconds away from completing the mission, only for it to turn into this. Fortunately...

—”Kekeke, did you think I hadn’t considered that possibility? I replaced every single staff member in this restaurant long ago!”

—”So no matter what you ask, you’ll only get one answer—”

”Hiring new staff? No. As a long-standing Hong Kong establishment, all of our staff have been working here for years,” the clay waiter said under Cameo’s control.

And it wasn’t just him. Every clay waiter gave the same answer when asked.

”See, Jotaro? I told you it was fine,” Joseph said, smiling back at his grandson.