Chen woke up to the sound of energetic humming coming from the kitchen—a sound he hadn't heard in… ever. He stumbled out of bed, hair a mess, only to find both his parents moving around the house like caffeine-fueled athletes.
His mother spun expertly with a frying pan in one hand and a rice spatula in the other, flipping pancakes like a pro. She wasn't even breathing heavily. Meanwhile, his father was in the living room tying his work tie with such flourish it looked choreographed, whistling a cheerful tune as he polished his shoes.
Chen stood there, blinking blearily. "What… is happening?"
His mother turned, beaming. "Good morning, sweetie! I made pancakes with that fancy organic flour from the sale last month!"
His father chimed in, "I already did my stretches. Didn't even need the balm for my back today!"
Chen squinted suspiciously. "Are you… feeling okay?"
"We feel amazing!" his mom declared. "It must be those fish oils I started taking last week! Or maybe it was the ginger tea your dad made yesterday?"
Chen chuckled awkwardly, sipping his tea. Right… the cookies… He watched them practically glow with energy and flawless skin tone, their movements nimble and light. A single night after eating those enchanted cookies and they looked like they'd aged backward.
But he said nothing. Let them think it was ginger tea or fish oil. Explaining magical pastries from a multi-dimensional tavern was not on the breakfast menu.
After eating with his still-radiant parents, Chen packed his schoolbag—normal books, notebooks, and of course, the enchanted pouch containing a few remaining cookies—and headed out. He arrived early again, slipped into the fantasy clubroom before anyone else could notice, and quietly stepped through the hidden door behind the manga shelf.
The moment he crossed the threshold into the tavern, the atmosphere shifted. Warm lantern-light, cinnamon breeze, soft chatter of early patrons, and the magical hum in the cobblestone beneath his feet—it was like walking into his second home. The air carried the faint scent of roasted spices and lavender sugar, along with the distant laughter of forest elves and goblins squabbling over discount charms.
He made his way down the polished alley toward the café. Listra was already up, adjusting display trays in the glass counter, each pastry glowing faintly with its own charm—memory buns, sighing rolls, and dream-glazed doughnuts.
"Morning, Chen," she greeted without looking up, finishing a little rune inscribed in whipped cream atop a cake.
"Good morning!" he waved and moved to the side counter, where a crystal orb rested atop a tall bronze pedestal. He placed his hand on it, and it glowed softly. A chime rang out.
[Clock-in registered – Chen Li Huang – Café Staff Tier I]
He stepped around the counter to put on his apron, and that's when he noticed her—a wealthy-looking orc woman with a gentle pink complexion that shimmered like rose quartz, clearly pampered with multiple layered skincare enchantments. She was dressed in layered robes of velvet and moon-thread, her plump fingers glittering with gem-encrusted rings, and several magical necklaces bobbed slightly with her every step.
Listra greeted her politely. "Lady Grushanna. I've prepared your morning blissbrew—with a touch of glitter bark infusion, just as you like it."
Grushanna sighed like someone entering paradise and accepted the cup with all the reverence of receiving a holy relic.
As she tried pulling a coin from her tiny silk purse, something shiny slipped out—a small, delicate pendant set in opalescent stone, etched with a dancing couple.
Without thinking, Chen stepped over and caught it mid-fall.
"Oh my stars!" the orc lady gasped, eyes wide with alarm. "That pendant holds a memory fragment of our first anniversary ball! If it shattered—"
He handed it back carefully. "Glad I caught it, then."
She clutched it dramatically to her chest. "You, boy—what a blessing! Do you know how rare young reflexes are in this part of the realm?" She reached into her purse and pulled out a small handful of shimmer—five silver-glint glims, freshly minted.
Chen blinked. "I-I can't accept—"
"Nonsense! Take it!" she said, pressing the coins into his palm. "Grushanna always pays her debts, big or small!"
Then, with a theatrical swish of her robes, she exited stage left, leaving a trail of sparkling perfume behind.
Chen stared at the glims. Real currency. Not a flower that sings riddles. Not a cursed yo-yo. Just shiny, practical, legal tender.
He slipped them into the enchanted pouch at his waist and looked toward Listra, who was busy making a foam rose atop a latte.
"I can actually use this, right?"
She looked up with a smile. "You've got a registered account already, so yes. That's legit money. You can spend it as you like. Just don't go trying to sell off other stuff random customers give you. Not without a license."
Chen chuckled. "Like the talking coin that offered me investment advice?"
"Exactly," she said. "There's a law about enchanted gratuities. You can accept them—but selling, pawning, or trading needs a verified business license. Some people get around it by using proxies, but that's risky. If the tavern catches you violating trade code…"
He nodded quickly. "Noted. No black-market mushroom hats. Got it."
The morning rush came in soon after—a mix of groggy satyrs, gossipy fairies, and a surprisingly cranky dryad who only drank "shade-brewed" coffee. Chen moved like he'd worked there for years, much to Gregory's delight.
"You're really adjusting fast," Listra commented during the mid-morning lull, sipping her own floral tea.
He shrugged modestly. "I grew up helping in my family's café. Muscle memory, I guess."
"Well, you're doing well. Just remember, real progress here takes time. For anything beyond what you've got—like licenses or special permits—you'll need to accumulate not just money but reputation. Credibility."
"Credibility?" he echoed.
She nodded. "Every transaction, every interaction builds your reputation in the tavern. Even the building itself remembers—every floor, every shop. The café keeps track of your hours, tips, and customer satisfaction."
Chen leaned against the counter, thoughtful. "And the second floor? Still off-limits for me?"
She hesitated. "For now, yes. It's bigger than the first. Wildly more diverse. The laws are stricter, but the magic is more powerful. Access requires a sponsor—a full-fledged citizen of the second floor willing to sign a responsibility scroll for you. Or… you can earn access the hard way. Raise your magical potential or skills high enough to meet the tavern's conditions."
"I don't even know how to light a candle magically."
"Then you'll have to keep showing up," Listra said with a grin.
"And I can live with that," he replied, looking around. The first floor already felt vast, full of endless surprises. Whether it was enchanted soap that gave you daily fortunes or a barber shop that sang you lullabies while trimming your hair, the tavern was brimming with charm. He wasn't in any rush to leave it behind.
His coin pouch jingled faintly as he moved. For the first time since entering the tavern, he had real spending power. Not a lot—but enough to daydream about what he might buy: a practical enchantment scroll, a better notebook, or even a tiny present for Listra or Gregory.
As the afternoon light filtered through the ivy-covered café windows, Chen smiled to himself. Just a few days ago, he was dozing through lectures and hiding from gym class. Now, he was saving magical heirlooms, earning money, and learning tavern trade law between cookie trays.
If this was the price of fantasy… it was one he'd happily pay.