The scent of frosting and warm bread hung in the air, warm and dangerously inviting.
Isaac stood in front of the glass display like a soldier sent to the wrong battlefield — one lined with sprinkles, cream, and heart-shaped toppings.
"These look like they were made by a sugar cult," he muttered under his breath.
Next to him, Trish practically pressed her face against the glass, eyes wide with childlike excitement.
"Ohhh, that one has dark chocolate and raspberry cream!"
Isaac side-eyed her. "You're drooling."
"I am not," she said, not even bothering to look away.
"Trish. You're glowing."
"That's because cake is sacred."
People in the shop kept turning to look at them. Not at Isaac — no one cared about the grumpy guy in a black coat. They were looking at the tall, striking girl with the long black hair and strange, hypnotic energy, who was pointing at pastries like a sugar-obsessed forest witch.
She didn't seem to notice. Isaac definitely did.
Their turn came, and the cashier lit up.
"Next! Aww, you two look adorable together! Did you know there's a couple's discount today?"
Trish blinked.
Isaac blinked slower.
In perfect, synchronized horror, they both replied:
> "We're not a couple."
The cashier coughed. "Ah! Sorry—my mistake. What can I get you?"
"I'll take that one!" Trish said immediately, pointing to a slice with thick frosting and gold flakes.
Isaac shrugged. "Give me whatever looks like it could kill someone diabetic."
A few moments later, they walked out with two separate slices, packed neatly in little white boxes.
Trish was already eating hers, humming. "This is so good."
Isaac raised a brow. "Congratulations. You've ascended to sugar godhood."
"I will not be taking criticism right now."
"Didn't say it was a bad thing. Just weird."
As they stepped into the street, still bickering lightly, a pair of eyes locked onto them from the crowd. Watching. Tracking.
It was Maya
Isaac and trish turned into an alley that was narrow and quiet, flanked by silent buildings and shuttered windows. Not a soul in sight — just the soft echo of footsteps and the faint rustle of paper.
Trish pulled a folded, rune-marked parchment from her coat pocket.
"Ready?" she asked, licking a bit of frosting from her thumb.
Isaac gave a casual nod.
She tore the paper cleanly down the middle.
With a quiet snap of displaced air and the shimmer of warped space, both of them vanished.
Trader's Room – Somewhere Between Places
The room welcomed them with the familiar scent of incense, old wood, and a hint of metal. Candles burned without fire, casting shadows that moved just a little too slowly. Books stacked themselves in corners. The table in the center was still messy from some kind of potion-making or weapon-harvesting experiment.
At the far end, the Trader sat in his plush green chair, calmly petting a large black crow perched on his arm. The crow cawed once — low and throaty — before hopping off to a skull-topped stand nearby.
The Trader didn't even look up.
"…Oh, it's you two," he finally said, voice lazy.
His eyes slowly dragged over to Isaac, and his grin sharpened.
"Oh dear. My very important person. Did you… bring me one of those limited edition cakes?"
Isaac's eyes narrowed.
Instead of answering, he silently placed the cake into his storage ring. Then, raising one hand, he summoned a chair made from swirling red mist — its edges rough, thorned, and pulsing faintly like veins. He sat down with smug ease, one leg over the other.
His voice dropped.
> "why would I ..or Maybe I should have
Especially since you sent those people to test me."
The air cooled.
The Trader's smirk froze — just a second too long.
He raised both hands dramatically. "Oh no, no, perish the thought. We merely had a… leak. Yes. A little spill of information, that's all. I would never test such a… valuable customer. Especially not you."
Isaac didn't blink. He didn't smile. But his eyes said everything.
> Liar.
In his mind, Isaac was already cursing him — thoroughly, and creatively.
But out loud, he simply leaned back and smiled.
> "Oh well. What's done is done. We'll talk about that later."
He tapped his fingers together.
> "But first…"
His smile deepened — slow and full of buried malice.
> "Let's get to business."
The Trader, who had faced demons and nobles without flinching, suddenly felt a chill trace its way down his spine.