“Aren’t you going to finish your muffin, Elevena?”

11 turns from the unfinished dessert to see Yue’li picking her teeth with a pinkie nail, a mug of orange juice in her other hand.

“Make sure you leave some room,” Yue’li says, and throws back her orange juice like it's a beer. “I'm going to make something that will really surprise you. Here, let me help you with that.” She reaches over and plucks the remaining bite off of 11’s plate, darting out the way of Abetah’s slap.

“My goddess, be mindful of your manners Yue’ling!” Abetah scolds the girl. “You’re fourteen years of age. Why, when I was fourteen, I was already married and preparing for motherhood. Look at how well-mannered Elevena is. It would do you well to learn from her.”

“Okay, okay.” Yue’li licks the sugar dusting off her fingers and laughs. “I’ll be more careful tomorrow. Just please, spare me the tales of ye olden days.”

With an exasperated, but not angry sigh, Abetah rises from the table and starts stacking the empty plates and mugs together. 11 tries to help, but is firmly waved away.

“I am so very grateful to you, Elevena.” Abetah is all smiles and wrinkles as she looks at 11 with an almost motherly gaze. “I haven’t seen my little Yue’ling look so happy in a long while. We get a lot of adventurers coming through Kesrock, but I haven’t seen many as young as you, traveling all by your lonesome. Are you spoken for? Do you belong to a party?”

“Beeeth,” Yue’li groans, “let her eat in peace already.”

11 studies the old woman for a second. She remembers Abetah introducing herself as Yue’li’s mother, but Yue’li keeps on calling her ‘Beth’, so 11 isn’t sure whether the two are actually related, or if it’s natural to call one’s relative by a nickname, here in Gandolia.

Either way, it seems strange that mother and daughter can look so unlike. The clear age differentiation aside, Abetha’s hair, though mostly grey now, sports patches of a dark hazel that hints at what her hair color must’ve been in her youth. It is a far cry from Yue’li’s orange-yellow. And of course, then there are the horns, and the scaly lizard-like tail that is alarmingly visible now that Yue’li isn’t wearing a cloak to cover it.

11 tries to stare without making it look like she is.

The tail is sharp on one end, widening as it disappears into Yue’li; like a dragon’s, complete with scales that glisten in mesmerizing greens and purples whenever Yue’li moves.

“I’m not with anyone, not before, not now,” 11 says, feeling a little sad admitting it. “I came to Kesrock by myself, to research something in the guild’s archives, and I plan on leaving as soon as I find what I’m looking for.” She looks between Abetah and Yue’li, trying to guess their thoughts. “I understand that’s not a concrete date, and this is a bakery, not an inn after all. But I can work to pay for my stay. I don’t tire easily, and I’m quite strong.”

Abetah nods, not seeming at all bothered by the possibility of 11 staying long-term. “We get so many young people coming here every year for a license,” she says, reminiscing as she stacks plates and cutlery over each other like a professional. “Kesrock really does have one of the most popular guilds in all of Gandolia, though I cannot understand why. They all seem the same to me.” She laughs. “Oh, I make it sound like I’ve seen many, but that cannot be further from the truth. Hmm, but access to the Heroes’ League’s archives, you say?” She glances over to Yue’li. “Doesn’t that require the best kind of license, dear?”

Yue’li pushes back from her chair, and takes the stack of plates from Abetah. “You need an A-rank,” she explains, “the second-highest clearance you can get. I think only a few hundred adventurers in all of Gandolia have ever acquired one.” She carries the bowls and plates behind the counter, droping everything into a bucket in the sink. She then grabs a wooden ladle and starts scooping water out from the nearby cauldron.

11 feels a bitter taste creeping into her mouth, and she stares at the pretty lights reflecting off Yue’li’s tail to distract herself from thinking about what she's just heard.

Abetah asks, “Can’t you help her, Yue’ling? Put in a good word with her at the guild?”

“Beth, I don’t even have a license.” Yue’li grabs a nearby dishtowel and starts to scrub. “Even if I do, they’re not going to take the word of a yaojin, especially one as low on the corporate ladder as me.” She sets the clean cutleries aside, the tip of her tail thumping against the floor like an annoyed cat’s. “There is a fast track though, and I’ve heard of E-ranks paying their way to D-ranks, and D’s going up to C’s, though that’s very rare, and often a stupid thing to do. But to get from a novice F to an A? It’s not impossible, technically, but with that kind of money you can buy a house in this city.”

Yue’li glances over at 11, and must’ve seen her dismay, because with a sheepish smile the yaojin girl adds, “Maybe you’ll have better luck trying to convince them you’re a librarian or something?”

A cutting remark works its way to 11’s lips at that moment, and she has to fight to keep it down. She knows it is inappropriate, rude even, to say what she is thinking. Thankfully, Yue’li finishes washing and disappears into the storage room with a quick, “I’ll be back,” leaving only 11 and Abetah at the front of the bakery.

A swarm of angry insects is buzzing around 11’s head. With a start, she realizes they are thoughts, her own.

I can blast those doors open.

She pictures the entrance to the guild, smoldering from her cannon.

I am definitely able to. I go right now, even, and take apart this entire city with my bare hands while I’m at it. Maybe I should. Maybe, I will. Right now.

11 rises abruptly, her chair scraping back. She strides to the kitchen, grabs a towel from the rack, and starts wiping down the dining table. What the hell am I even thinking? I am a God Gier, a creation of logical thought, a tool of humanity, and… a weapon.

“I’ve always wanted to see for myself what sort of books they have in those archives,” Abetah says, oblivious to 11’s inner turmoil. “But I can’t imagine someone like me will get anything useful out of such a place. Nranhana’s Needle already has everything a baker could ever need to learn. Oh, that’s right, have you been to the Needle yet?”

11 nods, wiping all the chairs now. “I’m looking for something a little more… historical in nature.”

What am I thinking I’ll find, anyway? A bestiary? Newspapers? Am I going to spend years climbing to the top of this adventuring ladder only in the hopes that I’ll strike gold?

“Elevena dear, the wood is burning.”

With a jolt, 11 lets go of the chair she is sanding down. Smoke rises from the bare patch of wood. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

Abetah is sitting across from her, watching with a curious gaze. “Is something on your mind?”

11 sighs. “Don’t we all?”

Abetah gestures to the chair. “You’re absolutely right. Sit, dear. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

11 obeys, expecting Abetah to implore deeper into her situation, but the woman’s question is something else entirely, one that 11 never thinks she’ll hear.

“Do you know anything about running a bakery, Elevena?”

11 stares at Abetah for a good few seconds before replying, “What do you mean?”

The woman's eyes are inscrutable. “Can you, or can you not?”

“I… can?” 11 says hesitantly at first, before changing her answer. “I can learn.”

“Good,” Abetah says with a warm smile. “Wonderful.”

“I don’t understand,” 11 says, “why are you asking me that, Abetah?”

Abetah sweeps a thin hand across the bakery, at all the empty tables. “This little bakery of mine is small, but it has potential, don’t you agree?”

11 looks around, pretending like she’s not done so a hundred times already this past week. “Your location is good, not far from the main square. The timber is also very sound. I almost can’t believe it’s all built by hand.”

“We have an old friend who is skilled in wood and metalwork,” Abetah explains, clearly pleased by 11’s observations. “He visits us every now and again when he comes to Kesrock to do business or sell his goods. Safir Silverbeard is his name. A good fellow, whom we owe much kindness to. If he has a son, I would not object to Yue’ling marrying into his family. But, alas, he had just one daughter…”

“I’m sorry, Abetah,” 11 cuts in, wanting to get to the point of what Abetah is saying before the woman can launch into one of her hour-long reminiscing sessions again. “I’m afraid I still don’t quite understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

“Oh, dear me, I do apologize.” Abetah’s smile is tight with pathos, making 11 feel like an asshole. “I am an old woman, and prone to rambling. What I am trying to say, is that this little bakery needs the vigor and enthusiasm of a smart, young person, which is something I’ve not had for many years now. Yes, this building may be sturdy, but it is in dire need of a fresh coat of paint, some tweaking here and there, and most importantly, a new face.” Her soft eyes lock onto 11. “I understand this may be sudden, but it would set my heart at ease to know you will look after this place once I am gone.”

11’s jaw falls open, and she sits there, speechless, as Abetah reaches across the table to take her hands.

“There aren’t many good people left in the world,” Abetah says, running her thumbs over the back of 11’s hands. “And the ones that are, do not stay long in Kesrock. But when I saw you carrying my Yue’ling home that day, I knew we had chanced upon one of the best. I know you have your own life to live, so you can treat this place as a second home if you don’t want to take up my offer. But, if you’d like to sleep in the same bed every night, and are up for an adventure of a different kind, you’ll find there are seldom better chances to do so than the one here.”

“Um, t-thank you,” 11 starts to say, then shakes her head. “Wait, but what about Yue’li? She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” She glances towards the kitchen, but Yue’li still hasn’t returned, and though 11 cannot see the yaojin girl, she can hear the faint scraping sounds coming from the storage room, like something is being ground with a pestle.

Abetah sighs, and all the years seem to catch up to her at once. “I love my little Yue’ling, that is a truth which will never change. But, reality is oftentimes unforgiving and difficult to behold. It does not matter to the world how much I care for her, Yue’ling is a yaojin, and that is the truth I cannot change, nor do I wish to even if I can.”

Abetah closes her eyes, the creases around them deepening as if the act of speaking is draining her. “Gandolia will never truly become a nation accepting of non-humans, not while the War continues, and its wounds are still fresh. It is Yue’ling’s birthright to be what she is, but there are many here who view it as her sin.”

11 looks down at Abetah’s wrinkled hands, shaking as they hold onto her.

“Yue’ling gives everything she has for this place,” says the old woman, taking a long, shuddery breath. “But it is precisely so, that I fear it might become her downfall one day.”

Gently, 11 pulls her hands away from Abetah’s. “It’s alright, I think I get what you are trying to tell me.” She comes over to Abetah’s side of the table and envelops the woman into a hug. But the gesture feels too human, so she lets go.

“I don’t know what a yaojin is,” 11 says, returning to her seat. “But prejudice and discrimination are not strange ideas to me from where I come from.”

Something clatters in the storage, and Yue’li’s voice comes echoing through. “Everything’s fine! I’ll be done in a few more minutes!”

11 turns back to Abetah. “I know what you want from me, and what you are hoping will happen. But, I am still a stranger to you. For me to receive your family business, what do you think your daughter will think? Have you talked to her about this?”

Abetah shakes her head just so slightly. “My dearest, you are as wise as you are kind. From your eyes, I can see there is much inside your head that you will not say, and more inside your heart.” She reaches over and gives 11’s hands an affectionate pat. “I will speak to Yue’li once you make up your mind. She will understand that it is better to be rich first, then free, than trying to do it the other way.”

11 grimaces. “You’re not wrong…”

A ruckus from the kitchen puts an end to the conversation. Yue’li bounces out of the storage room and up to the counter with a giant bowl balanced on her head, nestled between her horns. Her tail swishes happily behind her, knocking against shelves and walls with careless abandon.

11 looks over at Abetah. “But there’s no point to either of those things if one lives in a lie.”

Abetah’s smile does not betray her thoughts.

“Prepare for a trip to the stars,” the yaojin girl chirps as she plonks the bowl down onto the counter, “because this batch of coffea is simply out-worldly!”

Coffea?

"What did you say, Yue'li?" 11 cranes her neck to try and look into the metallic bowl. “Don’t you mean coffee?” She glimpses something dark and powdery, and something starts to pound inside her chest like a bird trying to break free.

Yue’li’s laugh lights up the serious atmosphere. “Is that what you call it in Overlake? I didn’t think you would have coffea berries so close to the ocean. I doubt you’ve had them like this though. Give me one second to boil some water and you’ll see what I mean.”

With a small, tired sigh, Abetah pushes herself up from her chair, leaning against the table for support. “I shall leave the tastings to you girls,” she announces, winking at 11. “One becomes tired so easily at this age.” Then, dropping her voice she says, “Think about what I said, will you, dear?”

11 nods, even though there’s really not much to think about. She’s not here to run a business, especially one that isn’t even hers by right.

Satisfied, Abetah swings her right leg around the chair and begins hobbling towards the counter. 11 scans the woman’s long pleated skirt to reveal the wooden prosthetic underneath. It starts from the base of the knee cap, and ends with a perfectly modeled foot, complete with toes and all, and 11 wonders what kind of events could’ve led to this woman sustaining such an injury. She watches as Abetah lifts up the counter board and, with a hand resting against the wall, makes her way over to the stairway past the kitchen. There is poise to her movements, slow as they may be, with every step measured and paced with the rhythm of a dance. And 11 begins to suspect then, that Abetah Basilona did not start her career as a baker.

A kettle hisses from the kitchen, making 11 acutely aware of a sudden, aching thirst, as if her entire being is calling out for whatever this ‘coffea’ thing is.

Coffea:

A genus of small trees of the family Rubiaceae, native to the tropical Old World, including several species, most especially C. Arabica, C. liberica, and C. robusta, that are widely grown in tropical and subtropical uplands for their cherry-like fruits, which contain seeds from which coffee is prepared.

Coffee.

Wait, really?!

“Don’t get too excited, Yue’ling dear,” Abetah’s voice rings out from the top of the stairs. “There’s a whole day ahead of you two.” The soft clunking of her wooden foot quietens with her leave.

As 11 listens to the sounds of water being poured into a cup, she feels sweat gathering on the insides of her palms and across the top of her forehead.

Could it be? Could it really be?

Her legs start to jitter, and she has to clutch her knees to stop it.

There is no way. Coffee doesn’t exist in this world. Right? Right?

11 tries to recall when she might’ve chanced upon something resembling coffee in her time traveling across Gandolia, pondering if maybe she's overreacting and that maybe, her dilating pupils are from having too much energy inside her, and not because she's getting hysterically excited over the promise of a simple beverage.

But once the rich, flowery aroma wafts into the dining room and hits 11's senses, she stops thinking.