“Is the human resting?” Clodia asked Raissa.

The head chef had just spent almost an hour going over the details of their VIP customer.

“He is in the back, as you told me, chef. He was really tired.”

“Lazy humans. They are so frail. Anyway, how much did he complain? Are we going to keep him or is he too much of a little girl?”

“He didn’t complain, chef,” Raissa said with a frown, “but he did talk my ears off until I left him alone with several feet between us.”

“He does talk a lot,” Clodia scratched her chin thoughtfully.

“Chef, I know that some of us don’t really like humans. But I think that in the future we might want him in the front desk. I bet that people would buy anything just to shut him up.”

Both Raissa and Clodia laughed at that.

“Well, if he didn’t complain, wake him up in time for the night shift. I’ll be back here anyway. This human knows some very weird baking methods and I’m going to pry all of them out of him.”

…

When I wake up, I’m not feeling great.

Mind you, I don’t think I’m supposed to feel great. There is a whole bunch of thoughts that I’ve been Matrix-dodging since I have arrived here.

For example, what about my family, my bakery shop, my cat.

Well, my cat is an asshole who likes my neighbor Sarah more than me. But I do like my neighbor Sarah more than him too, so, that’s that.

No more bills and no more rent, though. Being catapulted across dimensions has its benefits. And mom told me there was going be a tax audit or something like that. She also said we were squeaky clean and that ass tax officers should go — well, let’s skip that part.

Anyway, as soon as I wake up and open the door, I find Clodia in front of it.

She’s giving me the full-rookie wringer, alright.

“Good morning, princess,” she smiles evilly.

“Morning, beautiful,” I reply without missing a beat.

“Are you ready for the hardest work you ever performed in your life?” she starts pushing me toward the lab once again.

I really want to ask how long I’m going to run night shifts for, but I know that that is the wrong question. If you asked that my father, you might be working night shifts for the next five years.

It’s his Italian roots or something. Sometimes I like to joke that my house is a Chinese re-education camp, but that offends both my family and some Asian friends of mine. I mean, some other Asian friends really hate China, so it’s always a mixed bag.

Back to the wrong question, now.

“Born ready to work, boss. Will you introduce me to my co-workers?” I ask with a smile.

Always be friendly in the workplace. Do not make enemies, unless someone throws boiling oil at you or something like that. Working in a restaurant, or a bakery for that matter, is like being in a trench. You don’t have time for petty squabbles. You are paddling up crap’s creek together and you don’t want a person to row in the opposite direction and drag you back to lake liquid poop.

So, I’m ready to make friends. Especially because I do need friends in this city.

What’s the name of the city again?

Well, it doesn’t matter.

…

I get introduced to every person by Clodia. She tells me a quick fact about everyone, and I commit everything to memory. Names and personal histories are another very important thing in a workplace.

I just hope no one is racist or anything like that.

I do wonder if this is how black people sometimes feel around white people. Are we the Elves and they are the humans of our world?

And didn’t I just say something slightly racist?

Well.

“This is Flaminia and she’s going to be your supervisor. Do whatever she tells you to, no questions asked.”

I look at the Elf named Flaminia, almost as tall as Clodia, but much more feminine, and with big, round doe eyes.

Now that I look around, I notice that we don’t have male bakers. Is it a gendered profession or is it because Clodia prefers women to men?

Well, I’m not going to complain.

“Hi, Flaminia, I’m Joey. Joey Luciani. Thank you in advance for your help,” I say with a large smile.

“Don’t let him butter you up. He’s clearly a butt-kisser,” Clodia tells the other woman, who’s clearly much sweeter and softer than the chef.

“Clodia, don’t abuse the poor human,” Flaminia sighs. “Nice to meet you.”

She gives me a nice and normal handshake that doesn’t break my hand and that’s enough for me to like her to death.

She has a chef’s hat but her pink hair comes out of it rebelliously.

That’s an unexpected color.

“It’s dyed,” she tells me.

Oops, staring much, Joey?

“It’s very beautiful,” I reply with my signature wink and tongue click.

Clodia rolls up her eyes to the ceiling, while Flaminia laughs with a hand on her mouth. Her pointy ears jiggle a bit while she’s giggling.

“He’s a smooth talker, Clodia,” Flaminia eyes the head chef.

And then I notice that Flaminia has not called Clodia ‘chef’ once. Interesting. Childhood friends? Lovers?

“You two, get going and get going fast, chop-chop,” Clodia tells us and then hurries to some other workers.

“So, she told me you already have experience, but no classes and no skills yet. Don’t worry, though, I’m not one to judge—”

“I was thinking of picking up a class and skills as soon as possible, Flaminia,” I say, interrupting her, “I just had some… reasons because of which I couldn’t have picked up anything before. Now, though, I’m peachy.”

I shoot another wink and she replies with a giggle.

“Let’s get working, then.”

She starts mixing up the ingredients on the table at a speed that shouldn’t be humanly, or otherwise elvenly, possible.

“Oh, you must be new to skills, right? Well, this is [Fast Kneading], one of the first skills I got when I got the [Baker] class.”

My brain – against my conscious will, I swear – immediately wonders if that skill can knead other stuff too. I keep smiling and asking Flaminia questions, while my eyes wonder from time to time to the front part of her apron, where a sizeable bump makes my thoughts go astray.