The café is warm and quiet, the air carrying the faint scent of roasted coffee beans and melted chocolate.
Soft yellow lights glow above us, wrapping the space in a calm.
I sit at the small wooden table, shoulders relaxed but mind alert. Across from me, Arem sits straight-backed as always—perfect posture, hands resting neatly near the plate. Coffee and brownies are set between us, steam curling lazily upward.
I take a bite of the brownie.
The sweetness melts on my tongue—rich, soft, comforting. Unexpectedly good.
Arem's eyes lift at once, surprise flickering across his otherwise controlled expression.
"Sir," he says carefully, "you don't like sweets. Then why are you eating?"
I glance at him, then back at the brownie, as if I'm seeing it for the first time.
"I just wanted to try," I reply, voice casual. "And… they're delicious."
The truth is, I don't understand it either. The sudden craving.
I take another bite.
