Normal days in Atheria are almost normal.
Sure, sometimes the scones float out of the oven on their own.
And sometimes the milk sings when it's spoiled.
And yes, occasionally someone orders tea that grants visions of the past five lives.
But today?
Today was peacefully ordinary.
Naomi and I woke up in the tiny loft above the café. She was still tangled in three blankets and drooling on a pillow shaped like a butter croissant. I left her to recover and opened up the café like usual.
It was quiet.
Until the regulars showed up.
The Locals Love Drama
First came Bellan the baker dwarf, who always argues with the door even though it's never locked.
Then Thistle, a young elf who only ever orders "emotionally balanced tea" (whatever that means).
Then, of course, came Harvix.
Harvix the bard.
Harvix the Dramatic™.
He burst into the café with his usual flair: twirling his scarf and singing a song about "The Night of the Forbidden Pudding."
I groaned. Out loud. In public.
Naomi, freshly dressed and brushing crumbs from her sleeve, peeked from behind the counter. "Ooooh. Do tell."
"No," I said immediately.
But it was too late.
---
The Tale of the Forbidden Pudding™
Harvix launched into it anyway. In full volume. With finger cymbals.
"It was Reika! Our Café Keeper from Another World! Who challenged the High Pudding Priestess of Crystallis at the Feast of the Crescent Sweet!"
"She who stole the ceremonial ladle to preserve snack justice!"
"She who—"
"—tripped into the pudding vat and set off a sugar storm heard across three villages," I muttered.
Naomi gawked at me. "You started a dessert war?"
"It was a misunderstanding!"
Harvix was still going.
"—and then, with whipped cream in her hair and the courage of ten pastry chefs, she declared: 'No custard shall control my destiny!'"
"I never said that!" I protested. "I just wanted to take home leftovers!"
Naomi was wheezing.
"You're famous here?!"
"Infamous," I muttered, cheeks red.
Later, while I was serving a customer, Naomi wandered into the backroom and found the Wall of Thanks.
It's a simple wall where customers sometimes leave notes, drawings, or small trinkets. Atherian Yelp, basically.
She came back wide-eyed, holding a faded drawing of me riding a runaway cake cart.
"There's an entire legend section," she whispered. "You've got fan art."
"I tried to take it down," I mumbled. "They just put up more."
Naomi looked at me, both amused and amazed.
"So, to sum up," she said slowly, "in one world, you're the quiet girl with a slightly suspicious time journal and snack coupons. And in this world, you're basically a mythological dessert rebel."
"Yep."
"And you never told me."
"You weren't ready."
She blinked. Then smirked.
"Okay. Cool. I want a fan club too. Should I fall into a soup cauldron next?"
"Please don't."
---
That Evening
We closed the café as the sun dipped behind Atheria's floating peaks.
Naomi flopped into a chair and sighed happily. "This place is chaos."
"It's my kind of chaos," I said, handing her a cookie that glowed faintly when she smiled.
"I like it," she said. "And I like you here. You're... more you."
I nodded.
And for a rare moment… everything felt calm. No notes. No glowing warnings. No chapters ticking down.
Just two best friends in a magical café.
And pudding-related crimes best left in the past.