As soon as the final bell rang and his last class wrapped up, Chen Li Huang shot out of his seat like a spring-loaded raccoon let loose in a bakery, bolting down the corridor with a singular goal in mind—make it to the clubroom and get back to the tavern before self-study hour.
The moment he stepped inside the dusty clubroom, his hands were already moving the manga shelf out of habit, revealing the strange but now strangely familiar glowing door nestled behind it. He took a breath, heart drumming with anticipation, and stepped through.
The warmth, the distant clinking of mugs, the soft hum of magical ambience—he was back. That familiar woodsy cinnamon-sweet air greeted him like an old friend, and without wasting another second, he made a beeline for the café.
Cloaking into his uniform took only a touch of his palm on the faintly glowing crystal orb at the staff entrance—a satisfying ding confirmed he was officially on the clock.
The second his apron materialized and fastened itself, he was already moving with the ease of someone who had grown up in the rhythm of clattering dishes and sweet-smelling ovens.
The shift went smoothly, just like yesterday, and maybe even better—he actually got a compliment from the kitchen brownie today, and those guys only ever muttered criticism.
Once the rush died down and the floor was cleaned, Chen took a deep breath, gathered the courage, and approached Listra behind the cashier's counter.
"Hey, um, Listra?" he began, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "I was wondering… if I skip the free employee meal today, can I maybe take some pastries home for my parents instead?" Listra blinked, then laughed, her soft blue glow pulsing like a heartbeat through her cheek scales. "Silly boy," she said fondly.
"Eat your meal. You'll still get something for your parents. You think we don't appreciate filial kids?" She reached under the counter and plucked out a soft velvet pouch embroidered with silver runes.
"Find something you like. Regular-looking, right? Not the exploding ones." With a thankful nod, Chen explored the pastry displays, carefully avoiding anything that sparkled, shimmered, levitated, or cooed.
Finally, on the lowest shelf of the human-friendly section, he spotted a tray of unassuming cookies—chocolate chip, or so they looked—but a tiny sign declared: "VitalBite: Boosts immunity, increases focus, and gently regulates blood sugar. Mortal-safe." Jackpot.
He packed a dozen into the pouch, which miraculously didn't change size or weight no matter how many cookies went in. After that, he settled into a quiet corner of the café.
Listra and Gregory were off-shift but still nearby—Listra lounging with her feet up on a table while flipping through a translucent book that hovered over her lap, and Gregory scribbling furious notes on a napkin using a spoon dipped in ink, muttering about an "impossible sandwich configuration." Chen pulled out his homework and notebook and started working.
The atmosphere of the tavern café continued to amaze him—no stray thoughts, no sudden distractions, no sleepy post-lunch haze. It was like the air itself encouraged focus, gently nudging his thoughts into order.
The reading felt easier, the numbers less intimidating, and he finished his homework with time to spare. Listra glanced over eventually, spotted a mistake in his math sheet, and without a word pulled a chair beside him.
With a few casual explanations and a very pointed jab at his calculator skills, she walked him through the concept.
It was weird being tutored by a magical blue woman with knowledge possibly older than most civilizations, but weird was becoming normal, and honestly, he appreciated it more than any tutor he'd had on Earth.
Eventually, he looked at the time and realized he needed to head back if he wanted to catch the tail end of evening self-study. Listra handed him the now-sealed pouch of cookies with a little smile.
"Take care, Chen," she said. "And make sure your parents eat them. Don't hoard them like you hoard napkins." "One time!" he protested with a laugh, waving as he stepped through the staff door and toward the gate back to Earth.
Upon emerging, he found that—once again—it had only been around 40 minutes since he left for the clubroom.
That much tavern time crammed into so little Earth time still messed with his head, but he wasn't about to complain.
He made it back to his classroom for the last half of self-study and slid into his seat, careful to keep the pouch tucked securely inside his bag.
The moment he sat down, though, he noticed something strange—dozens of eyes flicked toward him, then quickly away, only to flick back a few seconds later.
It wasn't exactly hostile, but it wasn't exactly normal either. It took Chen a good minute to realize what was going on. Then, it hit him. The cookies.
He opened his bag a sliver and, sure enough, that subtle, honey-warm vanilla-chocolate aroma was wafting out like a siren's song in a room full of starving students.
No wonder everyone was eyeing him like he was a golden goose with a bakery in its beak.
The scent might've been mundane by tavern standards, but here, in a room of tired teens fed by vending machines and lunchroom horror stories, it was like setting off an olfactory nuke.
He quickly zipped the bag shut and pretended to be very interested in his notebook, but the glances kept coming.
Panicked, he glanced at the clock and made a decision. Technically, self-study wasn't mandatory. He'd already done all his homework. He'd even revised.
There was no point risking a cookie riot. With a nonchalant stretch, he packed his things and stood up.
No one stopped him, but he heard a few people sniff the air as he passed. Someone even muttered, "Was that…chocolate?"
He didn't wait to find out if anyone decided to investigate.
Once he made it out of the building and into the early evening air, Chen exhaled deeply, grinning to himself.
A day at school done, homework completed, revision finished, and a bag of magical cookies for his parents in hand.
He was starting to realize something important—the tavern wasn't just a dream world escape.
It was becoming the reason his real life was getting better.