Chapter six - Step by Step, Crumb by Crumb

Elias wasn't sure what he expected after Mira's first post — probably nothing.

That's why the bell jingling at 10:23 AM caught him completely off guard.

A young woman stepped inside, her heels tapping too loudly against the old wooden floor, her blouse too crisp for a place that smelled faintly of burnt sugar and lemon peel.

"Um… is this Moonlight Crumbs?"

Elias wiped his hands on his apron. "Yeah."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! I saw this place on Instagram — the one with the ghost cookies!"

Elias winced slightly. "They're not actually—"

But she was already at the display case, eyes scanning the neat rows of cookies and breads. "I'll take three cookies. The ones that taste like feelings or whatever. And… oh, sesame melon bread too."

Elias quickly bagged her order. "That'll be—"

"Wait!" She pulled out her phone and aimed the camera at the counter. "Can I take a picture first?"

"Uh… sure?"

The shutter clicked, and she smiled. "This place is cute. I'm gonna tag you."

Elias gave a stiff nod as she left, still not sure how to process what just happened.

-

By noon, two more customers wandered in — one curious university student who admitted she followed Mira's account "for the unhinged bakery content", and an older man who lived nearby but somehow never noticed the shop existed.

"Are you new?" the man asked, peering around the shelves like he expected the walls themselves to change if he looked hard enough.

"No," Elias said, a little awkward. "Been here almost two years."

The man frowned. "Huh. I walk this street every day. Must've been hiding."

Elias had no good answer for that, so he just rang up the man's order — a loaf of yuzu shokupan and one walnut cookie "for later."

-

The afternoon brought a trio of teenage girls, all in oversized hoodies and glittering phone cases, whispering like they were on a ghost hunt.

"Is this the place?" one whispered, clutching her phone like a compass.

"Yeah! Look, that's the sign from the post."

They clustered at the display case, pointing at cookies like they were relics in some urban legend scavenger hunt.

"Do you have the sad cookies?" one girl asked, eyes wide.

"The… what?" Elias blinked.

"The ones that match your mood!"

"Oh." Elias coughed. "They're just regular cookies."

The girls exchanged a skeptical glance but still bought six different items—cookies, melon bread, and one coffee bun "just to try."

Before they left, they stood under the crooked sign and took a selfie, fingers flashing peace signs. Mira's tag lit up again on the bakery's account before the door even finished swinging shut.

By evening, Elias had to admit—this was working.

The bakery wasn't packed, but compared to his usual completely-empty daytime hours, this felt like a crowd. By sunset, eight customers had come through, each leaving with bags full of baked goods—and photos to post online.

At 9:30 PM, the night crowd started to trickle in.

A tired office worker, tie loose and eyes half-shut, stumbled through the door and beelined for the rosemary honey cookies.

"These were on Instagram," he muttered. "Said they taste like breakups. Not sure if that's a selling point or a warning."

Elias didn't know how to respond, so he just quietly bagged the cookies and took the man's cash.

By 11 PM, the bell jingled again, this time for a young couple clearly on a first date. They stood too close together, laughing too easily, their nerves filling up the empty space between them.

"This place feels like a secret," the girl whispered, tracing a finger along the counter's edge where flour had settled into the woodgrain like memory.

The boy smiled, already holding up his phone. "Let's get a picture."

Elias stood back, invisible in his own shop, watching them fold into each other like the kind of sweetness he never quite knew how to hold.

They left with two cookies and a loaf of matcha bread, hands brushing shyly as they walked out the door.

By the time Elias locked up at 1 AM, the register held more cash than it had in weeks.

It wasn't much — barely enough to cover tomorrow's ingredients — but it felt different. Like proof that Moonlight Crumbs had stepped out of the shadows, no longer a secret meant only for the lost and lonely.

His phone buzzed.

Mira: See? I told you.

Elias didn't reply.

Instead, he walked home with the faintest trace of flour on his sleeve — and a smile so small, it could have been mistaken for moonlight.