Chapter 8 - Neighbors

The streets of Korvar were quieter than usual as I made my way back to the bakery, more precisely, to my home above it. The usual hustle and chaos of the southern district faded into the stillness of the evening as I left it behind after a long day, leaving only the distant murmur of tavern chatter and the occasional bark of a stray dog. I couldn't help but yawn, looking up at the night sky, thinking it had to be past midnight already. My legs ached, and the weariness from the whole day running errands back and forth clung to me like a second skin. I only wanted my trusty sponge and to wash myself down before sleeping until morning.

I was fumbling for the spare key in my pocket, walking towards the stairs leading up to the side of the building, when I noticed a faint light spilling out from the bakery's front windows. There it was, the familiar scent of fresh bread mixed with a faint sweetness in the air, and through the slightly ajar door, I spotted Lira sweeping the floor, humming softly to herself.

What was she doing here at this late hour? Baking? No way. But the smell was indeed fresh. The family operating it was a small one, and by now, I knew them by name. Lira was their daughter, about sixteen or seventeen. I have never really asked. Of the two, I mean, between the parents and her, she was always the chatty one—the one with the actual energy and one who could sell the goods. Her father was good at operating the tools and the oven, and her mother was good at coming up with recipes and prices... but when it came to selling them? Yeah, that was Lira's specialty.

"Long day?" she called out before I could even step inside to ask if she needed help or something. Her voice was light, teasing as if she already knew the answer or was here, waiting for me.

"You could say that," I replied, stepping into the glow of the bakery. There wasn't much inside; everything was put away, and she was finishing packing up for the day. "Didn't expect anyone to still be here."

"We had some late orders come in today." She smiled while she set the broom aside and wiped her hands on her apron. "Also, I'm always the last to leave. Someone has to make sure everything's ready for tomorrow. Besides," she gestured to a tray of small pastries on the counter, "I couldn't let these go to waste. Want one?"

"Well..." I hesitated. "I'm not exactly rolling in coin right now."

"Please!" She laughed, shaking her head. "They're on the house, Mister Flour. Think of it as neighborly generosity."

The word 'flour' made me twitch my lips as she picked up on the nickname the others started to call me when they were about to tease me. Oh well... I can't blame them for it, so if it was the price for a free second dinner, so be it, and I picked up one of the sweets. It was soft and filled with some kind of fruit preserve that burst with flavor as I bit into it.

"This is good," I mumbled, my mouth half-full.

"Good?" she scoffed, feigning offense. "I'll have you know those are my forte. It isn't just good. It is excellent!"

"It is perfect~!" I corrected myself, making her grin.

"Much better!"

We ended up sitting on the edge of the counter, munching on the pastries while the conversation flowed easily between us. She asked about how I was settling in upstairs and whether the room was to my liking. I kept my answers vague, steering clear of the details of my real work, and I think she knew it. She never pushed for answers and quickly switched topics when they became sensitive.

"You don't talk about yourself much," she noted after a while, tilting her head to study me.

"Not much to tell," I lied, wiping crumbs from my hands. "Just a guy trying to get by. That's who I am."

"Mm-hm," she replied, clearly unconvinced but not pressing the issue. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you moved in. This place could use someone who's not afraid of a little hard work."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I just nodded, knowing I had just agreed to help them out when I could... for free. Tsk. I am still too easily pulled into things like this, aren't I? Damn it... I will need to ask for stuff; I can't let myself return to old habits! Thinking about it, she may have noticed the change in my expression while I was finishing the last of my pastry.

"You should get some rest," she said eventually, standing and picking up the tray, looking at me apologetically. "You look like you're about to fall over."

"Yeah, maybe I am now that my stomach is full!" I admitted, feeling the weight of the day catching up to me. "Thanks for the sweets."

"Ehehe~!" She smiled, a small, genuine thing that made me feel oddly at ease. "Anytime. Goodnight, Mister Auriel."

"Goodnight, Lira," I said, heading out with a nod and then up the stairs to my room.

...

....

...

Lira watched him disappear up the stairs, her heart fluttering a little despite herself. She hurriedly shook her head, scolding herself under her breath for pushing it a bit too far at the end.

"Get a grip, Lira. He doesn't even notice you... You will need more than sweets! Maybe a new pair of shoes?" She whispered, looking out the window, watching him disappear.

Once the door upstairs creaked shut, she locked up the bakery and stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against her fair skin, catching onto her long, auburn hair. Her family's home was just next door, a modest but comfortable residence with the same smell of bread and sweets seeping through its walls, connected to the bakery. Just as usual, when she opened the door and stepped into a house that should've felt like a sanctuary, it felt like she was back in a cage. One that looked nice and inviting from the outside but was stale and sour within.

Her father was slouched in his usual chair by the hearth, his fingers fidgeting with an empty vial that once held a potion for who knows what this time around. His eyes were glassy, the telltale sign that he'd used another dose earlier. Her mother was at the dining table, sorting through an old pile of maps and gear from her adventuring days, muttering to herself about the good old times and how much her chosen husband had fallen. And how she was now stuck in doing... nothing.

"You're late," her father suddenly recovered, hearing Lira coming in, his voice heavy and slightly slurred.

"I was closing the shop," Lira replied evenly, heading toward the kitchen to grab a drink of water.

"So late?" Her mother looked up sharply. "And spending time with that 'Flour Man,' weren't you?"

"..." Lira froze, her jaw tightening. "So what if I was?"

"You..." Hearing her stiff, defiant answer, her father groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "Lira, you don't understand the kind of people he's mixed up with. The last thing we need is you getting tangled up in—"

"In what?" she snapped, turning to face him. "The same people you're tangled up with? The same people who make sure we don't lose the bakery because you can't stop drinking those damn potions?"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" Her father flinched, and her mother rose to her feet.

"Lira, that's enough!"

"No, it's not!" She shot back, her voice rising. "You're both such hypocrites! You take their money, or why are we in such debt they run their shady business through us?! You do their bidding, but the second I talk to someone who works for them, it's suddenly a problem?"

"That is different!" Her mother's face darkened, hearing her daughter speak with so much venom in her voice. "We do what we have to to keep this family afloat. You don't understand the sacrifices we've made—"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Lira interrupted her, disgust showing on her face. "I've heard the stories, Mom. You weren't exactly a saint when you were adventuring with your 'teammates.' And then you try to preach to me?"

Her mother's expression twisted with anger, but before she could reply, Lira stormed toward the door, grabbing her cloak on the way.

"Where are you going?" her father called after her, but he was unable to take two steps before faltering, still feeling dizzy.

"Out," she said sharply, slamming the door behind her.

The night air was cool against her flushed skin as Lira stomped down the cobbled street, wiping away the little tears gathering at the edge of her eyes. Her heart pounded, frustration bubbling over into every step. She didn't know where she was going—just that she needed to get away, if only for a little while. Auriel's face flashed in her mind unbidden, forcing her steps to stop, making her sigh deeply. Maybe she didn't know what she was doing, but at least talking to him felt real—something her family hadn't been in a long time.

Then, a sudden idea struck her... Taking quick turns, she returned to the bakery, only from the other side, heading up the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. While doing so, she could hear her parents arguing nearby and even saw her mother leave the house on her way to search for her.

"Not that she will find me..." She muttered, reaching the door, and after her mother was off, with a flushed face, she knocked on it.