Chapter 20 — The New Oven
Ethan sat at the small dining table, holding one of the cupcakes Max had left that morning.
The frosting had softened a little, but the sweetness was perfect.
As he ate, he replayed last night's strange episode.
"What the hell was that? Even if I ran out of mana, my brain shouldn't short-circuit."
Before going to the diner, he'd only felt tired. Nothing else.
But later, something had seemed to creep into his mind, bit by bit — blurring his thoughts, making him ramble nonsense. It was like being drunk… but not quite. More like his consciousness had been interfered with.
He rubbed his temples. That sense of "soul exhaustion" still lingered in his body.
"Magical depletion side effects? Never heard of that."
"If priests went insane every time they ran out of mana, no raid would ever clear."
When Holy Light ran dry, you were supposed to feel weak — not lose your mind.
He finished the cupcake, still unable to figure it out.
In the bathroom, he turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. The chill helped.
Watching the water spiral down the drain, he muttered, "Did my brain just… short out?"
Then he froze.
"…Oh, hell."
A realization clicked into place.
Whatever it was, it hadn't come from outside.
It had already been inside him.
And besides the Light… what other power did he carry?
Shadow.
A priest could wield both Light and Shadow.
Holy Light came from faith.
Shadow came from the Void — a cosmic force steeped in negativity, chaos, pain, and madness. The direct opposite of Light.
Priests who wielded both walked a razor's edge their entire lives, maintaining balance between the two.
That balance was fragile.
Lose it, and madness followed.
And what he experienced last night…
That felt exactly like the balance breaking.
He opened his palm and tried to cast a Heal.
A faint glimmer flashed — and died.
He tried Shadow Word: Pain.
Dark mist gathered steadily at his fingertips.
That confirmed it.
Damn.
When Holy Light ran dry, it was like opening the door for Shadow.
Were Void Lords constantly watching those who carried Shadow within them?
Understanding didn't make him feel better.
He'd used Shadow far too often over the years.
So this was his future? Slowly losing his mind… becoming a puppet of the Void?
Too late for regrets now.
He'd just have to ration the Light more carefully.
---
It was almost noon.
Ethan decided not to go to the clinic.
One of the few perks of being your own boss — you could just… not.
Though it'd be nice if he had a few hardworking employees earning money while he didn't.
With nothing urgent to do, he wandered around Max's living room.
It wasn't big, but it was cleaner than he'd expected.
The air still carried faint vanilla and last night's cupcake sweetness, mixed with laundry detergent.
Against the wall, the fold-down bed had been lowered from its cabinet. It was covered in bright pink sheets — almost blindingly cheerful.
Two pillows were neatly arranged at the head, with a cylindrical bolster in the middle.
He bent down and lifted the edge of the bed frame, inspecting the metal supports and folding mechanism beneath.
He couldn't help admiring the brilliance of such efficient space design.
A random thought popped into his head.
If Caroline ever brought a boyfriend home… what then? The living room?
On the coffee table lay a scatter of magazines, bills, and a pen chewed into a cratered mess.
He looked around. A row of sticky notes lined the wall:
"Owe Caroline $50"
"Don't forget to turn off the oven"
"Bill day = disaster day"
And one written in huge letters:
DON'T DIE
The most eye-catching thing in the room was the old red couch.
Its color was rich, almost like red velvet cake. The cushions were mismatched and colorful, with a throw blanket draped across it.
He moved toward the kitchen. Cabinets were cluttered with flour, sugar jars, cocoa powder, and a mixing bowl.
His gaze landed on the oven in the corner.
The shell had yellowed from heat and age. A strip of tape sealed part of the door, with a handwritten note:
"Don't mess with it. It's trying its best."
"She bakes hundreds of cupcakes a day with this antique?" Ethan muttered.
That oven could only handle two trays at a time. To keep up with demand, Max must be running it four or five rounds every day.
He stared at it, lost in thought.
Last night replayed in his mind — Max leaving work early, dumping the dinner rush on Caroline just to take care of him… letting him sleep in her bed.
She complained nonstop, sure. But her hands never hesitated.
"With the state I was in, the fact she didn't throw me out is a miracle," he sighed.
Thinking about Caroline handling the restaurant alone all night made guilt creep in.
"They're already exhausted. And I just made it worse."
He shook his head and headed out.
Sunlight hit the street as he walked, already picturing the new oven.
"Not a hundred cupcakes at once… but at least fifty. Even heat. Smarter controls."
---
Williamsburg Diner
The door chimed as Ethan stepped inside.
Caroline stood at the counter with the ledger book. When she saw him, her eyebrows shot up and she grinned.
"Hey, Ethan! You look much better than last night — at least you're not turning gray anymore."
Ethan smiled. "Thanks. I saw your bed in the living room. Very tasteful."
Max came out from the kitchen. "Doctor, are you here to eat today, or to sleepwalk again?"
"I actually came to apologize," Ethan said, scratching his head. "I caused you both trouble yesterday."
"Trouble?" Max raised an eyebrow. "You almost died on my chest. Caroline worked herself to insanity."
"Yeah… you took care of me all night, and I stole your bed."
"You're aware of that, good," Max said dryly, though her tone softened. "How are you now? Still dizzy? Any more… intelligence dropouts?"
"Nope," Ethan said awkwardly. "Just a bit weak. Probably holy— I mean, low blood sugar."
Max winced. "Don't say 'low' anything near Caroline. Finance trauma."
"Got it. Blood sugar issue." He paused. "Oh, and there's something else."
"What, you want me to clock out early again?" she asked immediately.
"No." Ethan waved a hand. "That ancient oven of yours? I replaced it. Installation's this afternoon."
"You've lost your mind. Those aren't cheap," Max stared at him. "Why are you buying me an oven? Trying to keep me?"
"I just saw how old yours is. You get up insanely early and bake nonstop. A new one means more sleep."
"It's my old war buddy," Max said, hands on hips. "Slow heat, bad temperature control, occasional sparks — but it's my kitchen partner."
"Fine," Ethan grinned. "You can call the new one your baking side piece."
---