Chen tied the apron tighter around his waist, still red in the face as he stood behind the enchanted coffee counter, surrounded by floating spoons, swirling cups, and the occasional order scroll that zipped overhead like a hummingbird.
The blue-skinned girl, who had finally introduced herself as Listra, gave him a quick tour of the café's magically assisted kitchen, which looked like a wizard's study collided with a barista's dream—coffee beans poured themselves through sieves, ovens lit up with a whisper, and milk frothed in bowls that responded to clapping patterns.
She handed him a notepad that instantly translated languages from the customers and let out a chuckle when she saw him staring wide-eyed at the fire-breathing teapot.
"Just keep your fingers away from that one," she said. "It bites if you look sleepy." Chen jumped into the flow quickly, taking orders, delivering trays to floating tables, and wiping up glowing syrup spills with towels that squeaked with happiness. It was all surreal, but familiar.
To Listra's surprise, he didn't flinch once when a two-headed lizard asked for half-sweet cinnamon milk tea, nor did he hesitate to mix unusual syrups with confident hands. "You've done this before?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. Chen gave a sheepish smile. "My parents run a little café back home. I've been helping since I was nine."
That seemed to win him more approval than anything else. By the end of the fourth hour, Listra had stopped micromanaging him and let him take over the whole front section. "Not bad for a wildwalker," she murmured.
He didn't know what that meant, but it sounded like a compliment.
Around what felt like the eighth hour, Chen was back behind the counter sipping a small cup of violet coffee Listra insisted he try, when a scroll floated down in front of him. "Shift complete.
Wages calculated," it said in golden script. He looked at Listra, who grinned and flicked her finger at the scroll.
It opened with a chime and displayed: Today's Earnings: 23 Bloomleaf. Chen's eyes sparkled. "Is that a lot?"
"For a first shift?" she nodded.
"Not bad."
He was about to celebrate when a second scroll dropped.
Celestial Set Damage Deducted: -23 Bloomleaf.
"Huh?" Chen blinked. "Wait… all of it?"
"Those cups are hand-sung by choir orchids," Listra shrugged.
"Be glad you worked it off. Most people pay in blood contracts." He laughed nervously, unsure if she was joking.
Still, despite earning nothing, he felt proud. And exhausted. And a little bit dizzy.
He glanced up at a moss-covered clock shaped like a sleepy owl.
"What time is it?"
"About second petalfall," Listra said, stirring a cup that changed colors with the angle of the spoon.
"That's… helpful," Chen muttered.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The battery had long since died, but when he pressed the button, it buzzed back to life. Then he saw the screen. And his soul almost left his body. 15 hours. He had been in the tavern for fifteen real-world hours. A full day. His afternoon classes. His evening cram school. Dinner. Home. Parents. Probably the police.
"Oh no." His voice cracked.
"Oh no no no no no." He backed away from the counter, panic rising.
"I need to go—I need to get back—my parents are probably freaking out—school's going to call the police—I might be expelled—I might be grounded for the rest of my life—oh God, they probably think I got kidnapped—" Listra blinked.
"You okay?"
"I've been gone fifteen hours!" he shouted, already running toward the exit.
"Fifteen! Do you have any idea what that means in Earth time!?"
"What's Earth?" she called, but he didn't stop.
He sprinted through the glowing walkways, heart pounding, dodging winged cats and walking chairs, following the curved paths of the tavern's massive first floor. All the joy, all the wonder, all the magical floating cinnamon-spiced nostalgia evaporated under the crushing weight of teenage reality.
As he reached the closet-archway that had brought him here, he skidded to a halt, one hand on the doorframe, chest heaving.
He turned back for a moment. The lights of the tavern sparkled behind him. Somewhere, a trumpet made of vines played a sleepy tune.
He could still hear Listra shouting something faint, probably asking if he'd return for another shift. He wasn't sure.
But one thing was certain—he had to get back.
Now.