The bodyguard behind us remained in relentless pursuit, his heavy footsteps pounding against the pavement like a rhythmic drum urging us forward. From a distance, the familiar silhouette of the coffee shop appeared. But I suddenly froze-I couldn't make such a risky move as "leading the tiger back to the den." Signaling to Yashu, we both reluctantly veered off course, weaving through a labyrinth of interconnected alleys that felt like a spider's web.
After a breath-taking chase, the bodyguard finally ran out of steam. He stopped, hands on his knees as he gasped for air, before turning away with a resentful glare. Only when his figure had completely vanished did I allow my body to slump, leaning against the cold brick wall to catch my breath. Beside me, Yashu was equally exhausted, sweat beading on her forehead, yet she looked at me and let out a triumphant, rasping cackle.
Once my heart rate stabilized, I cautiously poked my head out of the alley to scout the area. After confirming our "tail" was gone for good, the two of us crept along the main road to return to the cafe for our shift.
Stepping into the hauntingly familiar space of the eerie coffee shop, the first person I saw was Ming, the manager. His tall frame and usually gentle face were now clouded with contemplation as he intently observed a strange card in his hand.
Inside the shop, a few customers were quietly sipping their drinks. Perhaps because we were late, the other staff members had already handled the setup. Seeing us, Ming cast a soft glance our way before quickly looking back down, offering not a single word of reproach.
Suddenly, I looked toward the reception desk and froze. The strand of hair we had carefully placed in the glass jar had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind, as if it had never existed. Perhaps its "magic" or potency had expired the moment we stepped back into the shop. It was an arrangement that felt both logical and spine-chilling, a testament to the immutable laws of this world.
With no time to dawdle, we hurried to the back to change into our uniforms. The moment I brushed past Ming, a thick, heavy aura suddenly wafted over me - that same creeping dread one feels when standing before the Demon Gate.
I stole a quick glance at the card in his hand: its surface was covered in grotesque patterns and squiggly characters I had never seen before in my life. Although I didn't understand what they were, my intuition screamed that it wasn't anything good. Sensing the heavy atmosphere, I didn't dare ask any questions and simply slipped past him in silence.
Once dressed in our formal server attire, the daily grind began to turn once more, as if the recent drama had never happened.
Another shift passed as peacefully as any other. The space was filled with familiar sounds: the occasional "ting ting" of the service bell, the low murmur of customers ordering, and the rhythmic grind of the coffee machine, releasing a rich, warm aroma that filled the room...
I suddenly found myself wishing this mundane moment would last a little longer. According to the schedule I had mapped out, in just two days, I would have to set out again, plunging into the perilous missions within the Demon Gate. Everything repeated itself like a deadly timetable-boring, yet mentally draining.
Time truly flies like a galloping shadow passing a crevice; soon enough, the midday sun gave way to the evening twilight. The fading yellow rays of the "Eye Sun" filtered through the lush green leaves, marking the end of the day.
Today, Yashu was struck by a sudden culinary inspiration; she was determined to hand-make flan for dessert. While I sat at the old dining table, slowly picking at the food in my bowl, she was busy bustling about with a mess of ingredients in the kitchen.
After thirty minutes of struggling, the "masterpiece" finally emerged. Looking at the cake speckled with bits of egg yolk on top, I had to try my best to swallow a sigh. Yashu stood before me, wiping sweat from her brow with a satisfied smile:
-"Try it! See if it's good. Hehe!"
I looked down at the plump but shattered cake on the plate. Since this was the fruit of her hard labor, well... I figured biting the bullet for one piece wouldn't exactly make me "log out" of this world.
I picked up a spoon, scooped a large chunk, and shoved it straight into my mouth. And... just as expected, an indescribable flavor exploded in my maw.
To be precise, it was incredibly fishy-as if Yashu had cracked a raw egg directly onto the cake the moment it came out of the oven. The pungent raw smell mingled with the sickly sweet condensed milk, making me "swallow the bitterness" quite literally. Summoning every ounce of my willpower, I finally managed a hard gulp, sending that horrific flan down to my stomach.
-"How is it? Good?" Yashu's voice rang out with excitement, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Unable to crush her joy, I squeezed out a smile that looked more distorted than a sob and forced out:
-"It's... it's great..."
After a "delightful" and dramatic dinner, we each headed back to our rooms. It seemed Yashu was genuinely happy to have someone praise her cooking for the first time. All the way down the hallway, I could still hear her giggling to herself.
Seeing her so spirited, my heart felt a flicker of reflected joy, even if the "horrifying" aftertaste of that bite still lingered on my tongue.
Returning to the familiar Room 109, I maintained my cautious habits: checking the dust on the doorknob, then tossing a spare towel inside to scout before fully entering. Once everything was confirmed safe, I breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed onto the soft bed.
( Finally, some rest... ) I muttered, my consciousness fading as I drifted into a deep sleep.
But that peace didn't last long. In a flickering dream, I saw my mother standing in a forest of roses filled with sharp thorns. I hurriedly reached out to touch her, but at that exact moment... she turned around. Her face was abnormally distorted, the flesh twitching incessantly like a corrupted video file.
Then, abruptly, the reality surrounding us fractured, crumbling into pieces. Terrified, I tried to grab her hand to run away, but the moment I touched her, her image shattered like shards of razor-sharp glass, vanishing into the void.