The performance ended, and the girl received her wages.
The warmth from the hot coffee wafts upwards, the wheat aroma of the bread lingers at the nose tip. Sevia holds up the bread wrapped in oiled paper, takes a small bite, appearing so moved she almost cries.
The woman sits in front of her, watching the girl eat with a full mouth, her cheeks glowing with healthy pink in the coffee's warm mist, she chuckles lightly.
"It's truly strange, are you from another village, Sevia? I don't recall hearing this name before; are you really from our area?"
Upon hearing this, Sevia hunches her shoulders, thinks it over, then buries her face in the bread and says, "I don't remember anything, I just appeared here when I woke up..."
The woman shakes her head, "Poor child, it's unrestful outside recently. Looking at how pretty you are, if you aren't the lord's daughter, you must be the child of a city merchant."
