A middle-aged woman named Clara, who worked as a seamstress in the merchant district, was among the first to investigate the sudden influx of slum residents near a newly opened shop. She approached one of the slum children who was savoring what appeared to be a coconut-covered pastry.
"Excuse me. What are you eating? It looks delicious."
She said gently, not wanting to startle the boy.
The child looked up at her with suspicion, instinctively clutching his food closer to his chest. In his experience, adults who showed interest in what he had usually wanted to take it away.
"It's mine! I paid for it!"
He shouted defensively.
Clara's mouth twitched as she wanted to ask how he came across the money to purchase such an obviously expensive pastry. But she held back her thoughts and raised her hands in a peaceful gesture, understanding where the child was coming from.
"I'm not trying to take it from you. I'm just curious where you got something that looks so good."
Still wary, the boy pointed toward Mama's Pastry.
"The new shop. The man in the mask makes them. There's also a beautiful and kind big sister there."
"A man in a mask?"
"Yeah, all black with a white face-thing. He's nice, but not as nice as the beautiful big sister. The big sister even gave the first one away for free."
The boy took another bite of his Coconut Doughnut, his eyes closing in bliss before commenting.
"Never tasted anything like this before. This is heavenly."
Clara unconsciously swallowed her saliva while watching the blissful expression on the child. She was intrigued and made her way to the shop to verify the boy's claims. Perhaps the child was exaggerating, having gone so long without tasting anything truly delicious. She didn't want to rule out that possibility.
Soon, she stood before the shop. The exterior was modest but clean, with large windows that displayed the pastries to excellent advantage. The sign reading "Mama's Pastry" was simple but elegant. She didn't hesitate to enter.
Inside, she was greeted by the same pleasant atmosphere that had impressed the children and the old man. The masked figure behind the counter was indeed striking. They appeared mysterious, but not threatening. If anything, they seemed professional in their bearing.
"Welcome to Mama's Pastry."
Elias said and asked:
"What can we offer you today?"
Clara studied the display cases with growing amazement. Each pastry was a work of art, but more than that, there was something about them that aroused cravings. It was almost as if there was a spell placed on them to charm anyone who laid eyes on them. Shaking her head to break free from the 'charm', she began to look through the cases for what she wanted.
"I'll try one of those."
She said, pointing to a Coconut Doughnut similar to what the boy had been eating. She didn't recognize any of the pastries in the display, but considering that the slum boy was enjoying the Coconut Doughnut, she wanted to verify if it was as good as he described it.
"That'll be 2 Mystic Stones or 200 Gold Coins."
Selina quoted with a smile.
She readily paid for it and immediately left the shop with the wrapped Coconut Doughnut. Unlike the slum kids, she didn't get an extra one. This was something Elias had instructed. He told Selina to give the slum kids an extra one as a form of bonus for their first purchase, but didn't offer the same deal to people who were obviously well-off.
Meanwhile, as she bit into the pastry outside the shop, Clara understood immediately why the slum children had been so enthusiastic and why the slum boy was behaving like he did. The flavor was extraordinary, but there was something else, a sense of comfort and satisfaction that went beyond the physical. It reminded her, as Elias had intended, of the treats her mother had made when she was young.
Within hours, word had spread throughout the merchant district. Clara told her fellow seamstresses, who notified their customers, who informed their families. Each person who tried Mama's Pastry became an evangelist for the experience.
By midday, there was a steady stream of customers from all walks of life. Wealthy merchants stood in line beside working-class laborers, all drawn by the growing reputation of the mysterious masked baker and his incredible creations.
Elias and Selina found themselves overwhelmed by the demand. Despite their best efforts, they were forced to close early, and their entire inventory sold out. Although Elias could create more, he chose not to. They needed to address a pressing issue.
"We need help."
Selina voiced Elias's thought as they tallied the day's earnings.
"And we need more pastries. I never imagined we'd be this successful so quickly."
She continued.
Elias nodded, counting the substantial pile of Mystic Stones and Gold Coins they had earned. He refrained from telling her that he could always recreate those pastries for now. Earlier, when she asked where he got the pastries from, he only gave a vague answer that he had commissioned a friend of his to make them.
He also added that this friend hated being in the limelight, so only he could visit him for now. Selina nodded to his claims. Although he could tell that Selina was still skeptical of his claims, he chose not to inform her of the truth for the time being.
"Tomorrow, we'll look into hiring additional staff. And I'll need to expand our inventory."
As they celebrated their success and made future plans, forces were stirring throughout Sun City that would soon complicate their simple business venture.
In the elegant district where Sun City's aristocratic families maintained their mansions, news of the shop by the name Mama's Pastry had reached ears that were always attuned to opportunity and threat.
The Goldmere Family, whose wealth came from extensive trading networks, saw potential profit in the new venture. Lord Aldric Goldmere, a shrewd man in his fifties with calculating eyes, summoned his advisors to discuss the situation.
"A new food establishment that has the entire city talking within a single day."
He mused, swirling wine in a crystal goblet.
"Either this masked proprietor is a genius, or he has access to something the rest of us don't."
The chief advisor, a thin man named Reeves, said:
"The reports are consistent, my lord. Everyone who tries these pastries becomes an immediate advocate. The flavor is supposedly unlike anything available elsewhere in the city."
"Then we need to taste them ourselves."
Aldric decided and added with a glint flashing in his calculating eyes:
"And if they're as remarkable as reported, we need to determine how to benefit from this development."