A Cracked Mirror

The small shop radiated warmth, was small enough for four to five customers to stand, but the counter was just enough for a single person, urging Vane to move.

"Oh, it's Master Vane." Barbara's smile softened as she recognized the ruggedly handsome man standing before her.

The lavish designer lanterns flickered silently, with her smile. As if welcoming them.

"How's your mother doing, Barbara?" Vane asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

Johan's gaze turned to the small redwood box on the left side of the counter, a small gap enough for notes and coins to pass, reminding him of home, 'I used to steal silently from Freida's piggybank, I wonder how she has saved now I am gone.' Johan thought shamelessly with some sadness in his gaze.

"She's doing better now. The doctor said there's no risk of death…" Barbara's voice wavered slightly before she stepped out from behind the counter and wrapped her arms tightly around Vane's waist. Her head touching his lower chest, rubbing her cheeks as if a cat appreciating her brother.

 "Thank you… If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have made it." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but loud enough for the group to hear.

Vane gently patted her head, his expression affectionate. "No need to thank me. I've been coming to this place since before you were born, and I watched you grow up—I care about you and your mom, too."

Barbarra pulled back, her smile tinged with gratitude. "Thank you… really," she murmured, her voice softer now. Composing herself, she returned to her cushioned seat and asked politely, "What can I get you today, sir?" becoming professional again.

"Hmm…" Vane paused thoughtfully. "Four slices of gâteau, two Victorian sponge cakes, and four regular black coffees."

Turning back to the group, he asked, "Do we need anything else?"

"Umm, something spicy too. It's all sweet. If we eat something spicy before the gâteau, it tastes much better!" Alya chimed in, her tone thoughtful.

"You heard her, Barbara. Anything you'd recommend?" Vane asked softly.

Barbara's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Actually, yes! I just tried something new, and the results were amazing," she said, taking a quick breath before continuing. "I call it Fire-Spiced Mutton." She gestured toward a dish behind the glass display.

It smelled of freshly cooked onions and tomatoes in a ton of butter.

The mutton glistened under the lights, its deep brown sauce draped over tender-looking cuts, hinting at layers of rich, complex flavors. 

The group couldn't help but stare, imagining the taste as Barbara continued, "I used high-quality mutton, marinated it for two days in Maltic beer with a mix of spices and a touch of sugar. Then I slow-roasted it to perfection, eliminating any bacteria, before topping it with a spicy curry made with potatoes, onions, and a blend of vegetables."

"That sounds delicious. We'll have four plates of that too," Vane said eagerly.

Johan was already salivating. 'It sounded like some super expensive steak from a five-star restaurant… something I had never gotten the chance to try before.'

Barbara led them to their table—a polished wooden slab, its smooth surface free of unnecessary ornamentation, save for the buttercream and sauces that looked homemade. 

The wood's natural grain added a rustic charm, its dark hue blending seamlessly with the bakery's cozy aesthetic. Instead of traditional legs, the table seemed to float just above the ground, seamlessly connected to bench-like seats on either side.

Leor and Alya sat on the right, leaving Vane and Johan on the left. The arrangement positioned them directly across from each other, the polished black wood of the table standing solidly between them.

Leor broke the silence, his voice quiet but curious. "Did something happen to her mother, Vane?"

Vane sighed, his gaze softening. "Yeah… She nearly died from a sudden heart attack. They had some savings, but it all got drained by the medical bills. Things got worse when their income dropped—Barbara wasn't as skilled as her mother at running the bakery. She couldn't afford to pay the waitresses, so they left too." He paused before adding, "I just helped out a bit by covering her mother's medical expenses."

Leor leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, with a mocking sneer, he muttered, "Waste of money. Should've let that bitch die."

For a fleeting moment, his ember-green pupils darkened, turning pitch black—so quick it was almost imperceptible. Only Johan could notice it.

"Huh?" Vane's eyes widened to their limit in alarm before he quickly composed himself. His voice turned cold, sharp. "What the hell did you just say?"

In an instant, he yanked Leor by the collar, his tone lowering to a dangerous growl. "Are you out of your mind? What if she heard you? Do you have any idea how much that would hurt her?"

Alya's eyes widened in shock, her gaze locked onto Leor. Her expression wavered between disbelief and denial, as if struggling to process what she had just heard. "Leor… are you alright?" she asked softly, her voice heavy with concern. 

Tentatively, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light yet probing.

"Hey, are you okay, man?" Johan asked, a flicker of unease settling in his chest. Johan's gaze darted back to his bright green eyes. Was I the only one who noticed his pupils darken?

Leor blinked, his ember eyes narrowing slightly as he looked between Vane, Alya, and the other person. "What's gotten into you three?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. His hands instinctively moved to pry Vane's grip off his collar. "And why are you—? Did I say something wrong?"

His gaze shifted to Alya, her worried expression making him frown. "And you… what's with that face? I don't understand. What's wrong?"

Vane's grip loosened slightly, his fury giving way to unease. His voice, sharp as a blade, cut through the tense silence. "Are you still reading those mysticism books? I've told you countless times to stop it!"

'This idiot must have been corrupted or something similar due to his probing in something he shouldn't probe, I have to do something before he completely loses himself…' Vane thought with some worry.

"Huh?" Leor frowned, confusion flickering across his face. "I stopped reading them ages ago—right after you told me to. I haven't touched one since. Why bring that up now?"

Vane's frown deepened. His gaze darkened..

Alya stepped closer, her warm breath hitting Leor's face, her voice softer but filled with concern. "Leor… this isn't like you." She hesitated, her hand still resting on his shoulder as if trying to steady him. "You've never said anything like this before. Are you alright? You felt… different."

Her gaze bore into him, almost pleading. "Are you possessed by something? An evil god? A devil? You should go to the Church first thing today and bathe in holy water…"

'I've heard of them, People completely losing themselves… I really hope that is the case… Please, I don't want you to actually become like that.' Alya thought, her eyes as if praying.

Those people in myths, recovered after going to church. But the people who are actually scum… they rarely change.

Leor's confusion only deepened. His eyes darted from Alya to Vane before finally landing on the last person, silently pleading for an explanation.

With a quiet sigh, Johan leaned in and murmured what Leor had said, their voice low enough not to alarm the little lady.

Leor froze. His pupils dilated to the max, his hands trembling slightly.

Noticing his strange reaction, Alya and Vane's concern grew even more—if that was even possible.

But then, to Johan's shock, Vane's sharp gaze suddenly turned toward the last person, narrowing with an intensity that made his stomach drop.

'Huh? Why's he looking at me like I just killed his entire family and pissed on their graves? I'd been sitting by his side, completely silent, backing him up the whole time…'