…
I was alive!?
My heart was still beating despite the impact of that invisible axe. As I took my second breath, a familiar, chilling scent hit my nostrils—the crisp freshness of a mountain pine forest. In an instant, the darkness shattered, and the world came into focus.
Two voices crashed into my ears simultaneously:
"Are you okay?"
One was Rumi's melodic tone; the other was a deep, gravelly voice of an old man. I opened my eyes to see Rumi's tear-streaked face. Her eyes were brimming with water as if she had committed an unforgivable sin.
I turned my head and saw the Dondurma ice cream stall behind us, with the elderly vendor standing over me, his long metal rod in hand.
Suddenly, I realized Rumi was clutching one of my hands with both of hers. Her grip was iron-tight. But the strange part?
My heart didn't race. I didn't recoil in terror.
"What... happened?" I asked, my voice thin.
Before Rumi could speak, the old man chimed in.
"You just collapsed out of nowhere, boy! Took this poor girl down with you. But instead of worrying about her own fall, she was frantic to help you. I had to rush over and help prop you up against the shop."
At his words, Rumi's grip tightened even further. She stole a glance at me and then quickly looked down, her usual cuteness buried under a thick layer of guilt.
"sorry…I'm sorry... I am so sorry, Durlav!"
Her broken voice and desperation left me dazed. Why was she apologizing?
My mind was still a mess of jagged thoughts. I only remembered that agonizing pain, like my entire body was being reduced to ash. Yet now, I feel a little normal.
What actually happened back there?
As if reading my mind, the old man asked, "So, young man, what exactly came over you?"
I looked at him.
He was back inside his stall, moving with strange agility as he churned the ice cream, even though there wasn't another customer in sight.
"I... I'm not sure," I stammered. "I didn't complete breakfast, and I was stressed about being late for the seminar. Maybe I just fainted."
"Oh? Is that so?" The old man's voice held a hint of mysterious skepticism.
Without warning, he held out two massive cones of ice cream.
"Here. Take these," he commanded.
Rumi and I exchanged looks. We didn't have a single coin between us. Why was this man treating us?
"Actually... we don't have any money to pay you," I said hesitantly.
The old man chuckled softly.
"I'm not asking for coins. Think of it as a marketing strategy. Just take it! It's made from pure milk—you won't find anything healthier in this city."
I took the cones, mesmerized. A strange chill spread from my palms throughout my body. The old man's smile turned grave and cryptic.
"But don't think it's free. You'll pay the debt later."
He pointed a finger toward the road behind him.
"Follow this path and you'll find a bakery—it's mine. This ice cream business is just a side gig that's struggling because people don't seem to come back for a second round. But my real identity lies with that bakery."
He looked directly into the depths of my eyes.
"Remember the name—'Musashi Bakery.' One day, when you've made some friends, come to my shop. Pay your debt by trying my cake and coffee."
I nodded mechanically, but the name 'Musashi Bakery' rang a bell. In Quad City, it was a name few hadn't heard. Rumor had it the food there was magical, and the man who ran the oven wasn't just a baker—he was a magician.
I stared at the old man in disbelief. Could this disguised vendor really be the magician bakery man Musashi?
I handed one of the cones to Rumi. She was still looking down, blaming herself. As she took it, she whispered again, "I am truly sorry, Durlav."
I wanted to ask why she was crying. It felt like there was a deep-seated pain hidden behind her tears. But my gut told me that asking now would only hurt her more.
I turned back to the vendor.
"So, are you really the famous Musashi? The one they say has magic in his hands?"
The old man scratched the back of his neck with one hand while waving the other dismissively.
"No, no, no! You can call me 'Bakery Man' at most. But I am not the legendary Musashi. Please, don't compare me to him. I could never be his equal, not now, not ever."
I blinked.
"What are you saying? Musashi is someone else? Then why is your shop called 'Musashi Bakery' if you aren't him?"
A melancholy smile touched his lips. He tapped his metal rod against the ice cream container, his gaze drifting toward some distant memory.
"That is a long history, boy! If I start telling it will be night. Just come to my bakery one day—eat the cake and hear the tale."
It seemed he was more interested in promoting his business than explaining the mystery. But the question lingered:
Who was Musashi?
The name itself sounded noble, powerful—like an undefeated warrior hidden in the shadows.
Then again, not everyone can have a name like 'Durlav'—burdened with sorrow.
Suddenly, it hit me. The Seminar!
I had completely forgotten about it while sitting here!
How much time had passed?
This day had been a fever dream of strange events. I had no money, yet here I was holding expensive ice cream I hadn't even tasted.
"Let's go, Rumi... can you walk now?"
She wiped her eyes and nodded weakly.
"Yes, my foot feels better."
Her voice still carried that heavy weight of guilt.
…
We left the stall and headed back toward the main road. There was no point in running anymore; what was done was done. We just had to hope we could reach the gates before they locked them for good.
Trying to push the anxiety aside, I took a large lick of the ice cream.
Immediately, my entire body recoiled. It didn't take a second to realize why people never came back for a second serving.
It was tasteless.
No sweetness, no creaminess, no aroma.
Instead, it had a sharp, overwhelming stench of raw goat milk that was almost impossible to swallow. To put it simply:
it was revolting. Was the old man mocking us?
Or was he just a terrible cook hiding behind a heavy name?
Now I'm curious, does his cake taste just as bad?
Rumi was walking just behind me, licking hers too. From a distance, we probably looked like a romantic couple on a morning stroll.
Ugh!
Why am I thinking this again?
Had Rumi actually cured my phobia?
Why was I suddenly linking myself to her?
Moments ago, I was nearly dead because of her, and now I was having these intrusive thoughts?
I shook my head to clear the fog. Now wasn't the time.
I didn't dare take a second bite. But that horrible taste gave me the courage to finally ask her the question.
"Rumi..."
"Yes, Durlav?" She sounded startled.
"Why were you crying like that?"
She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Because... I accidentally used the 'Scared Eye' on you."
Scared Eye!?
What was she talking about?
Was my near-death experience at the stall because of her?
Rumi turned her head away, seemingly afraid to look me in the eye.
"It's a special ability of my family. It creates an inhuman terror in the mind of an enemy. I don't know much about it, so I can't control it well. When you collapsed, my eyes felt like they were exploding with pain. That's when I knew—I was the one who did that to you. My father said this power creates a bone-chilling fear. I didn't realize it would hurt you that much. I am so sorry!"
She bowed her head again, fresh tears beginning to fall. Seeing her like this, I realized this power wasn't a gift to her—it was a curse.
Logically, her words were impossible. My brain didn't want to accept that such supernatural things existed in our world. But a part of me remembered my dream from this morning. I couldn't remember the details, but I knew I had fallen from darkness into a celestial garden. I had woken up drenched in sweat, terrified of something I couldn't name. But…that was just a weird dream.
What I felt at the ice cream stall wasn't just fear; it was physical agony. If 'Scared Eye' only causes fear, why did I feel like I was being ripped apart?
Anyway, thinking about this is madness.
"Rumi," I said softly. "You told me about this power, but please, don't tell anyone else. People will think you're crazy."
I paused, making a slight face.
"And listen, I still don't believe you're a member of the Butler family. You're just an emotional girl with a vivid imagination."
Rumi looked up, stunned. I was trying to lighten the mood, to stop her from blaming herself. But my subconscious was still searching for the answer to that Celestial Garden and Rumi's supernatural power.
My repeated disbelief finally broke Rumi's patience. Her tears dried up in an instant, replaced by her trademark stubbornness.
"What?! I'm not a Butler?" she fumed, marching toward me.
Before I knew it, her small, soft fists were raining down on my shoulders and chest. She wasn't hitting hard; it was more like a playful, rhythmic pounding. Surprisingly... I liked it. Every touch sent a different kind of shiver through me. The girl I was once terrified to touch was now beating me, and I was enjoying it.
Rumi eventually stopped, a radiant smile breaking across her face. It was as warm and pure as the first light of dawn.
Without another word, she reached out and grabbed my right hand firmly. She pulled me along, leading the way toward the headquarters. She wasn't just pulling me toward a seminar; it felt like she was pulling me toward a new life. Anyone watching would have seen nothing but two young lovers in a rush.
I caught the scent of her hair again. And in that moment, only one thought echoed in my mind:
'And from here, everything begins...'