With the five silver glims tucked securely in his pouch, Chen Li Huang couldn't keep still during the first half of his café shift. The moment the early rush cleared and Listra announced break rotation, he sprang out from behind the counter like a coil unbound.
"Gregory," he whispered, nudging the broom leaning beside the pantry door, "I need your wisdom."
The broom's bristles twitched. "Wisdom costs three compliments and a cookie," it muttered in that smugly refined accent of his.
"Fine, fine—you've got the best sweep in the business, your wood grain is polished like a boutique table, and you… you smell like lemon balm and old wood in the nicest possible way," Chen rattled off. "Cookie after shift."
Satisfied, Gregory stretched slightly like a person popping their joints. "Very well, mortal spawn. Lead the way. What foolish errand are we embarking on?"
"I want to buy something useful. Maybe a book. A basic one to help me awaken some kind of magical ability. I mean, everyone here seems to have something going on. Even the waitstaff have floating trays and flame fingers!"
"You want to awaken your roots?" Gregory asked, now rolling along beside him in his half-hovering glide. "Didn't take you for the ambitious sort."
"I'm just tired of being the weakest guy in the tavern who can't even float a teacup."
"Fair enough," the broom said. "Just don't expect a quick return. Magic's as slow as compost if you're doing it the real way."
As they exited through the café's side door, Chen blinked at the bustling streets of the tavern's first floor, which looked less like a shop district and more like a carnival bred with a fantasy city. Market stalls floated above cobbled alleys. Giant lanterns, suspended from nothing, shimmered between tree-like pillars. A four-armed goblin in an apron was deep-frying floating apples beside a stall where a fairy sold bottled whispers.
"Stay close. You're the perfect mark for enchanted scams," Gregory muttered.
"Wait, are there scams here?"
"Oh, absolutely," Gregory said cheerfully. "That's what makes this place authentic."
Chen half-jogged to keep up with the broom's gliding pace as they turned into a quieter side street where the air smelled faintly of parchment, resin, and dust. Wooden signs, written in flowing script and glyphs, hung from twisting iron hooks. Bookstores. Dozens of them.
Gregory motioned to a small three-story shop nestled between two larger ones. "That's the one. Old Maevira runs it. No-nonsense, decent prices, no enchanted ink that steals your memory or adds vowels to your name."
"…Adds vowels?"
"Don't ask. Happened to someone named Glen. He's now Glaaeione. Poor guy."
The bell chimed softly as they stepped into the shop. Chen looked around with awe. Shelves stacked higher than ladders should be able to reach lined every wall. Books flitted around like birds, some opening and closing mid-air, others whispering to one another in hushed tones.
An ancient woman with smoky white hair coiled into a beehive sat behind the counter. She wore bronze-rimmed spectacles that hovered just an inch from her nose.
"Newcomer," she said, without looking up. "Smells like dew, anxiety, and ambition. What are you after, boy?"
"A magic awakening book," Chen said. "Something… beginner-friendly. Basic. Maybe something meant for late bloomers or people with no roots at all."
Gregory whispered, "Also, something cheap."
Maevira nodded and waved her hand. A small, battered-looking book floated off a high shelf and dropped gently in front of Chen. The title was etched in faded silver: "Roots from Stone: Awakening When You Think You Can't."
Chen picked it up and flipped through. Handwritten notes from past owners filled the margins. Doodles of meditation poses, mana root diagrams, checklists.
"This is… amazing," he said.
"Two silvers," Maevira said.
"Sold!" he replied, before Gregory could object.
After paying and tucking the book safely into his messenger bag, Chen and Gregory strolled back toward the café. The tavern was noticeably busier now. Midday crowds surged in like clockwork, and Chen could already hear the sound of laughter, instruments, and a massive toad singing karaoke near a pub's open window.
Back at the café, Chen resumed his duties, serving a particularly snobby family of wind fairies who insisted their tea be poured counter-clockwise by someone "no taller than a cyclops's kneecap."
He passed the shift with practiced grace, bolstered by both the thrill of his purchase and the oddly comforting rhythm of work. When it was over and the other staff dispersed for their post-shift meals or magical meditation breaks, Chen sank into the chair at his usual corner table.
The battered book practically begged to be opened. He cracked it open, already immersed in the first chapter—"Your Mana Is a Lake (Even if It's Currently a Puddle)."
Soon, he was scribbling down notes, copying runes, and repeating the breathing pattern exercises it suggested. Across the room, Gregory floated nearby, humming something that sounded suspiciously like a bar tune.
Listra eventually approached with a tray and a cup of steaming tea. "New hobby?" she asked.
Chen blinked up, startled. "Ah—yeah. Trying to awaken my magic roots."
"Hmm. Makes sense. You've got the focus for it," she said casually. "More than most rookies, anyway."
"You think so?"
She gave a lazy nod and slid into the booth opposite him, stretching her legs. "Hardest part is consistency. Most give up after a week. If you don't expect flashy results and keep at it, you might surprise yourself."
He smiled faintly. "Thanks, Listra."
"You're welcome. Also, there's cake left over from the morning rush. Want some before I eat it all?"
"…Is that even a question?"
Later that evening, Chen returned to Earth as usual—gently passing through the janitor closet portal behind the Fantasy Club's manga shelf. The moment he stepped out, he reached into his pouch and pulled out the book. Its worn leather cover looked utterly mundane here under fluorescent lights, but it still carried a faint warmth in his hands.
This was only the beginning. If that book worked, and he could awaken his magic roots, it would change everything. He wouldn't just be the weirdo in the Fantasy Club anymore. He'd have something real. Something extraordinary.
And besides… he still had three silver glims left.
Tomorrow, he'd go looking for his next treasure.