Chapter 12: Tea and Forgotten Wisdom
Silence filled the plaza.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Thousands of eyes remained fixed on one young man.
Fenrir Endarth.
The newly awakened God Devourer.
The person whom the Master had called Young Sovereign.
Fenrir shifted uncomfortably.
'Why does it feel like I suddenly became famous?'
Unfortunately, it wasn't the good kind.
The old man standing before him smiled gently, his silver eyes carrying an unfathomable depth.
"You seem troubled."
Fenrir looked at him.
"That's one way of putting it."
A soft chuckle escaped the old man.
"Understandable."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"We have much to discuss, but this is hardly the place."
His gaze shifted toward Sebastian.
"Prepare the Moonlit Tea Room."
Sebastian blinked.
"The... Moonlit Tea Room?"
The old man nodded.
"I haven't used it in some time."
'Some time?'
The corner of Sebastian's mouth twitched.
The Master hadn't entered that room in over two hundred years.
Yet now, he was opening it for someone he had just met.
No.
Not a stranger.
A Sovereign.
Or perhaps...
Something even greater.
Sebastian lowered his head.
"As you wish, Master."
The crowd slowly parted.
The Master turned and began walking.
Fenrir hesitated for a moment before following.
Lady Seraphina naturally stepped beside him.
Very naturally.
As though it was the most ordinary thing in the world.
The surrounding crowd watched in disbelief.
Whispers immediately spread.
"Who is he?"
"Did the Master truly call him Young Sovereign?"
"I've never heard that title before."
"No... I've read about it in an old record."
"The Sovereigns are supposed to be extinct."
"Then why would the Master call him that?"
"I don't know... but he feels strange."
"I haven't seen Lady Seraphina approach anyone in centuries."
"She even gave him a spatial ring."
Fenrir heard every single word.
His enhanced hearing made it impossible not to.
'Great. Now everyone is talking about me.'
He wasn't sure whether to laugh or sigh.
Probably both.
As they walked, Fenrir finally had the chance to properly observe the Exchange.
The marketplace seemed endless.
Ancient stone roads stretched in every direction.
Shops sold strange items he couldn't identify.
A rabbit-eared shopkeeper bargained fiercely with a demon.
Two dwarves argued over the price of enchanted ore.
Several vampires sat outside a café, drinking tea and reading newspapers.
An angel casually walked past carrying a stack of books.
Everything looked absurd.
Yet somehow...
It also felt normal.
As though this hidden world had always existed.
And he was the strange one for not knowing about it.
The Master noticed his wandering gaze.
"Interesting place, isn't it?"
"You could say that."
The old man smiled.
"The Midnight Exchange has existed for over five thousand years."
Fenrir nearly stumbled.
Again.
'I'm never getting used to numbers like that.'
Several minutes later, they arrived before a quiet building.
Unlike the bustling market outside, this place was peaceful.
A small stream flowed beside it.
Moonflowers bloomed along the stone path.
Their pale petals glowed softly beneath the artificial night sky.
The building resembled an ancient manor.
Simple.
Elegant.
Timeless.
The Master opened the door.
"Come in."
Fenrir stepped inside.
Immediately, a sense of calm washed over him.
Bookshelves lined the walls.
The fireplace crackled softly.
The scent of tea leaves and old parchment filled the air.
A long wooden table stood at the center of the room.
Everything here felt...
Warm.
Lived in.
For some reason, it reminded him of something.
A tiny apartment.
A quiet dinner.
A birthday cake.
A lonely room.
The memories vanished as quickly as they appeared.
A faint ache settled in his chest.
The Master noticed.
But said nothing.
Instead, he walked toward the table.
"Please, sit."
Fenrir sat down.
A second later—
Lady Seraphina sat beside him.
Very close beside him.
Fenrir blinked.
'Does she not understand the concept of personal space?'
He shifted slightly.
She shifted too.
He moved again.
She followed.
Sebastian looked away.
'The ceiling suddenly seems very interesting.'
A servant quietly entered and placed several cups of tea on the table.
Fenrir stared at the steaming cup.
Honestly...
He had expected something else.
Ancient prophecies.
Mysterious revelations.
A hidden underground throne room.
Not tea.
The Master smiled knowingly.
"You seem disappointed."
"A little."
The old man chuckled.
"Patience, young man."
He took a sip.
Then looked at Fenrir.
"What do you know about yourself?"
Fenrir thought for a moment.
Then answered honestly.
"Very little."
"I recently learned that monsters are real."
"I'm apparently the last God Devourer."
"Some people seem to know more about me than I do."
He glanced at Lady Seraphina.
She smiled back.
That somehow made him even more nervous.
"And now I've been called a Sovereign."
He sighed.
"So no."
"I don't know much about myself."
Silence settled over the room.
The Master nodded slowly.
"I see."
He placed his teacup down.
"Then perhaps I should begin with something simpler."
Fenrir straightened slightly.
'Finally. Answers.'
The old man smiled.
"What is your favorite kind of tea?"
"..."
"..."
"..."
Fenrir stared.
'Did I hear that correctly?'
"Tea?"
"Yes."
"You brought me here..."
"Correct."
"To ask about tea?"
The Master looked genuinely confused.
"It's an important question."
Fenrir looked toward Sebastian.
Sebastian immediately looked away.
'I'm not getting involved in this.'
After a long silence, Fenrir answered.
"I've never really thought about it."
The old man looked genuinely shocked.
"You've never had a favorite tea?"
"No."
"...That's unfortunate."
Silence filled the room again.
Then—
The Master smiled.
"Then we shall correct that."
The next thirty minutes passed in a way Fenrir could never have imagined.
They drank tea.
Different kinds of tea.
Apparently, the Master was a tea enthusiast.
A very enthusiastic one.
By the fourth cup, Fenrir was beginning to question reality.
By the sixth cup, Fenrir was beginning to suspect that the ancient Master of the Midnight Exchange had invited him here solely to drink tea.
It was only after the seventh cup that the old man finally seemed satisfied.
"There."
He smiled.
"A proper conversation can now begin."
Fenrir nearly buried his face in his hands.
'This old man is unbelievable.'
A soft laugh escaped Lady Seraphina.
'You really are different…'
It was the first time she had laughed since entering the room.
The Master looked at Fenrir.
This time, his expression slowly became serious.
"Tell me, Fenrir."
"What kind of person do you wish to become?"
The sudden question caught him off guard.
"What?"
"If you gain power..."
"If you become stronger..."
"What will you do with it?"
The room became quiet.
The crackling of the fireplace suddenly sounded much louder.
Fenrir lowered his eyes.
Power.
Strength.
Those words meant something different now.
A few weeks ago, he would have answered immediately.
Revenge.
Hatred.
Anger.
But now...
A frightened girl appeared in his mind.
A girl in a dark alley.
Someone he had been able to save.
Then came another memory.
His own helplessness.
The feeling of lying broken on the ground.
Unable to move.
Unable to protect anything.
His hand tightened around his teacup.
"I don't know."
Silence.
A few moments later, he continued.
"But..."
"If I become stronger..."
"I don't want to be powerless anymore."
The room remained silent.
"I want to protect the people important to me."
His voice softened.
"I don't want to lose anyone again."
The Master looked at him quietly.
Then, a gentle smile appeared on his face.
"I see."
For some reason...
He seemed happy.
Almost relieved.
As though he had been waiting a very long time to hear those words.
'You truly are his descendant.'
The old man slowly lifted his teacup.
"Strength is a strange thing."
"Some seek it to rule."
"Some seek it to destroy."
"Some seek it because they are afraid."
His silver eyes met Fenrir's.
"And some seek it so they never have to watch someone they love suffer again."
Fenrir remained silent.
The old man took another sip.
"People believe strength is gained through battle."
"But power without peace is merely another kind of weakness."
Fenrir looked at him.
"Then what is true strength?"
The old man's smile deepened.
"Having the power to destroy the world..."
The room became completely silent.
"...and still choosing to protect it instead."
Those words felt heavy.
Ancient.
As though they carried the wisdom of countless years.
The Master stared into the fire.
A distant look appeared in his silver eyes.
'Just as he was…'
Fenrir frowned.
"What?"
The old man blinked.
Then smiled.
"Nothing."
'That was definitely something.'
Outside the window, the artificial night remained peaceful.
The Midnight Exchange was quiet.
Calm.
Unmoving.
Yet somewhere beyond its walls…
Ancient eyes had already opened.
Forgotten names were being spoken once more.
Old powers stirred.
And without realizing it—
Fenrir Endarth had already become the center of a gathering storm.
A storm that would one day shake worlds.
And at its heart…
stood a young man who simply didn't want to be powerless anymore.