The cold seemed sharper now.
Not because the wind had picked up—
but because he was moving.
Jun pushed through side streets, breath misting in short clouds ahead of him.
The early city exhaled slowly around him.
Shutters creaked open.
Store signs flipped from "Closed" to "Open."
Bread carts rolled over uneven stone, trailing smells he couldn't follow.
---
And the clock ticked.
> [First Task: Brew Real Coffee – Time Remaining: 11h 46m]
---
He had nothing.
No grinder.
No beans.
No scale.
No kettle.
Just a cup in his pocket.
And stubbornness.
---
He turned down a narrow alley, cutting behind a row of shuttered shops, angling toward the park.
That's when something shifted.
Not in the air. Not in the sound.
Inside.
Jun slowed.
Not for the scent.
Not for the crowd.
But because something in his chest tightened—like a string gently pulled taut. Not quite recognition.
But alignment.
A feeling he hadn't had in weeks—that there was still a place to stand.
He kept walking.
But the idea stayed with him.
That's when a memory stirred—
soft and out of place.
---
The community center.
A few streets down.
Old building.
Small kitchen.
He remembered volunteering there once.
Late nights washing dishes during meal drives.
They'd had gear back then.
Maybe some of it still worked.
---
The building looked older than he remembered.
Paint peeled at the corners.
A window frame was cracked near the top.
But the lights were on.
---
He stepped through the door, shoes squeaking slightly against the linoleum.
Behind the front desk, Mina leaned back in her chair, scrolling her phone with one thumb.
She glanced up.
No surprise in her face.
> "You again," she said, eyebrow raised.
Jun offered a breathless smile, still catching warmth from the walk.
> "Just need a favor."
Mina sighed the way people do when they want to seem annoyed, but aren't really.
> "Kitchen's open. You break it, you clean it."
> "Deal," Jun said.
---
The kitchenette had shrunk since the last time he saw it.
At least, it felt that way.
Flickering ceiling lights cast everything in a soft hum.
Tile cracked beneath his step.
The cabinets hung slightly crooked.
Still—gear remained.
He found a battered electric kettle behind some tins of soup.
A cracked French press sat beside a dented canister.
Jun checked the plug. The kettle buzzed to life—quiet, reliable.
Progress.
---
He searched the shelves.
Found a dusty hand grinder with a loose lid.
A few chipped mugs.
Two mismatched spoons.
No beans.
Of course.
---
> "Mina!" he called, poking his head back toward the front.
She appeared around the corner, still holding a half-eaten granola bar.
> "You don't have coffee beans, do you?"
She paused, chewing.
Then swallowed slowly.
> "Half a bag. Ethiopian. Personal stash."
"Why?"
Jun bowed his head slightly, hands folded like it was something sacred.
> "Just enough for one cup?"
Mina narrowed her eyes.
Sizing him up.
> "Clean the sink too."
> "Deal again," he said, smiling wider now.
---
The beans were in a resealable pouch—taped once at the corner.
He opened it carefully.
Inhaled.
Floral, citrus, something deeper.
He measured by eye, careful not to waste a single gram.
Set the hand grinder between his knees and began to turn.
Slow, steady.
Click. Click. Click.
The rhythm brought something quiet with it.
Something almost warm.
---
He poured the grounds into the French press.
The kettle hummed beside him.
Water danced at just below boil.
He let it settle for ten seconds.
Poured gently, evenly.
Let the bloom rise.
A pale froth swirled upward—floral, golden.
It smelled like something real.
Jun's hands trembled slightly, but he steadied them on the counter.
> [Extraction in Progress...]
---
He waited.
Four minutes.
No shortcuts.
He didn't check the clock.
Didn't shift weight.
Didn't rush.
Just breathed with it.
Then—
he pressed the plunger.
Tilted the carafe forward.
---
Golden-brown drops slid from the spout—thick, slow, perfect.
Hope flickered.
---
Then—
> BZZZZZT.
The socket sparked.
The kettle jumped slightly.
The lights flickered overhead.
A burnt smell lifted.
Somewhere, a relay clicked.
The whole counter buzzed.
---
> [System Error: Extraction Interrupted. Task Failed.]
---
Jun froze.
The mug trembled in his hands.
---
> [Retry Available in 24h]
[Eviction Countdown: 2d 23h]
---
The coffee sloshed sadly against the edge of the chipped mug.
Not ruined.
But not recognized.
A cup without validation.
Behind him, Mina leaned against the doorway.
Still chewing granola.
Still watching.
> "Well," she said, around a bite, "that was dramatic."
Jun let out a breath—half laugh, half something else.
Low.
Dry.
Helpless.
> "You have no idea."
---
> [System Log: Mission Failed – Brew Attempt Logged]
[Passive XP Gained: +2 – Effort Acknowledged]
---
> [System Record – Storyline ID: S08-Origin]
Logged User: Stylsite08
Path: Stillness to Mastery
Unauthorized copies may trigger system disruption.
Original work by Stylsite08. Do not repost or distribute without permission.
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