William woke up a little past mid-sun hour, feeling sluggish and barely able to move. As he shuffled past the glass doors of his back porch, the sunlight pierced his eyes like daggers.
"I've got the headache of a lifetime… Ugh. I'm never drinking again. Where's the tea?"
He made his way to the kitchen, groaning with every step. As he rummaged through the cabinet for his usual morning tea, he mumbled declarations he was unlikely to keep.
"I feel like I'm about to throw up. Seriously, how did I manage this a few years ago?"
His mind drifted back to younger, wilder days—nights filled with heavy drinking and questionable combinations of alcohol. Back then, he'd wake up feeling perfectly fine. But now? His stomach had turned as sensitive as ever. Age was catching up fast.
Still, he was grateful for the last-minute decision to drink water and eat something before heading home the night before. It hadn't fixed everything, but it definitely could've been worse.
He set the tea to brew on the stove and turned his attention to breakfast. He opened the first cabinet: empty. Second cabinet: empty. Third: still empty.
"...Damn it. I'm out of food."
The realization hit hard. He'd spent the last two weeks holed up in his home, working nonstop and unpacking, never stepping foot outside. He knew this was bound to happen eventually—but that didn't make it any less annoying.
And now, it meant only one thing: he'd have to head back into town with a hangover.
"Fuuuuck!"
***
"I swear, the sun's hotter than ever."
William staggered from side to side, each step a challenge. Hungover and drained, he'd walked nearly an hour to reach town. The sunlight gave him a pounding migraine, and waves of nausea rolled through him. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't collapsed along the way.
"I should probably eat before buying anything from the market. You know what they say—don't shop on an empty stomach. Besides, I don't want to look like easy prey for these ruthless merchants."
He knew the signs—slouched shoulders, slow pace, eyes down, avoiding eye contact. It screamed vulnerability. And in a place like this, that could get you scammed or worse.
"I need to pull myself together," he muttered, holding his rumbling stomach. "Years of experience taught me not to look weak in town… But damn, this stomach won't shut up—Hm?"
William stopped as a familiar building came into view.
"This is the bar I went to yesterday... Looks like it's a restaurant during the day."
It was the same place he'd drowned his sorrows in booze the night before. Now, seeing it again in the bright daylight, he had second thoughts.
"Wait a second..."
Fragments of his drunken night came back. He remembered talking to Lucy—catching up, laughing… and something about food.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit him.
"Of course! She said she was going to bake me a cake for my birthday!"
William wasn't one to indulge in sweets willingly, but at this point, any kind of food sounded delicious. Even cake.
"Maybe I can convince her to make something else instead. Cake for breakfast sounds... bizarre. Alright, here goes nothing."
He pushed through the swinging doors—and immediately froze.
Every head in the restaurant turned to stare at him.
He gulped and forced himself to a table, trying to act like it didn't faze him. The stares slowly returned to their previous directions, but he couldn't shake the tension in the air.
"This is... strange."
He tapped his fingers nervously against the table. Despite no one looking anymore, it felt like all eyes were still on him. There was no chatter, no clinking plates—just silence.
"By the looks of things… Is anyone—?"
"Good evening, sir. I'll be your waitress today. Are you ready to order?"
"Yeah, I came to eat. What's today's special—woah!"
The waitress tilted her head. "Is something wrong?"
Her ears twitched. Bunny ears.
William blinked. He'd seen beastfolk before during his merchant days, but never this close. It was rare to encounter them, especially outside major cities.
"This place just keeps trying to mess with me," he muttered.
"Is there something not to your liking?" she asked, still smiling politely.
He quickly shook his head. "Not at all! It's just... your ears. Can I—?"
"I would strongly advise against it," she said, her smile turning chill.
"O-of course." William slouched, disappointed. He'd expected the rejection, but figured it was worth a shot. The audacity of some men—and he should've known better. "My apologies, Miss…"
"Marla," she said. "And while it's not okay, I do understand why you asked. My ears are adorable."
"I completely agree, Miss Marla. It won't happen again."
William had heard stories of beastfolk since he was a child. Politically, their existence was controversial, sparking protests and even wars. Most lived secluded lives, hidden from the public. That's why many people never saw one in their lifetime.
"Well then," Marla said proudly, puffing out her chest. "Now that we're clear, what would you like to order?"
William scratched his cheek. "Actually, I was hoping to see if Lucy was around."
Marla raised an eyebrow. "What business do you have with my Lucy?"
"Uh..." He stumbled. How was he supposed to explain she'd promised him free cake without sounding like a total freeloader? "Wait, did you just say my Lucy?"
"Of course!" she declared, placing a hand over her chest. "Lucy is my everything! My friend, my savior, and the only person allowed to touch my cute ears. I know everything that goes on with her. I've sworn to protect her from weird-looking, suspicious men."
William pointed at himself. "Do I look weird?"
Marla giggled, covering her mouth. "Just a little. A bit. A bunch. A lot."
"Make up your mind, miss," he sighed. She was more troublesome than he expected. He wondered how someone like her even got hired. "Anyway, I just wanted to see her. That's all."
Marla's eyes sparkled. "Aha! So you do have an interest in her! Are you two becoming a thing? She's really popular around here, you know. Lots of contenders for her heart. Won't be easy getting her attention—even for you, Mister Jaeger."
"I—um…"
She smacked the table and leaned in, their faces only inches apart. "So what was it? Her presence? Her beauty? Her sparkling personality? I must know! Let's compare notes!"
William rubbed his temples. His headache was getting worse. Marla's gossip-loving nature was starting to wear him down.
"Listen, she asked me to stop by today. She mentioned having a job I could take."
Marla leaned back, arms crossed. "Ah, I see..."
She accepted the explanation—sort of.
"Well, unfortunately, she's not here today. Said she had urgent matters to take care of."
"I see… Did she mention when she'd be back?"
"Nope," Marla replied. "It's got everyone here in a slump. The customers haven't eaten or drunk anything all day. They just keep staring at the door, hoping she walks in. Honestly, they scared off the other customers—until you showed up."
"…Wait, all of this is because of her?"
Marla placed a hand on her hip, raising her index finger. "Of course! Didn't I tell you? She's got a fan club and everything. Just earlier today, some red-haired guy came asking for her."
"Really?"
"Mmhmm! Handsome fellow. Though his outfit was a little... odd."
"That sounds… troublesome."
Marla chuckled. "Don't worry, Blacksmith. He was charming, but you seem more her type," she teased with a smirk.
"I meant it sounds troublesome for her! If she's got this much attention, she really shouldn't be out alone."
"Don't worry, sir," she said confidently. "If anyone lays a finger on my Lucy, they'll be dead before dawn. By my hands."
"Right…" William sighed. He got what he came for—confirmation that Lucy wouldn't be around today. No point dragging this out.
"You know," Marla added, "it's been fun chatting, but you should probably order something. Sadly, Lucy won't be making it, but the food's still great."
William scanned the menu, eyes glazed over. "You know what? I'll just take the special of the day. Whatever that is."
"Got it!" Marla grinned, leaning closer to his ear and whispering, "Come back next time. Maybe then you'll get the cake she promised."
William twitched. "How did you—?"
Marla pulled back with a playful chuckle. "Told you—I know everything about my Lucy."
She gave him a wink and spun around toward the kitchen.
"I'll be back with your order soon, Blacksmith."
***
"So, are you the only one selling food at this hour? Come to think of it, weren't you working late last night too?"
The man in front of the blacksmith stood with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah. What of it?"
William scratched his cheek. "It's just... well, I figured someone else would be working by now. An employee, maybe?"
The merchant snorted. "It doesn't exactly thrill me to have this conversation either, blacksmith, but I've got a business to run. Unlike some people, I work hard every single day. I don't need an employee—I manage just fine on my own."
William gave a wry smile. "I never said you didn't. It just... looks like you haven't moved from that exact spot. Don't you get tired?"
He had just finished buying his groceries for the week—once again from the same merchant, Paul, who was stationed at the only open stall in the otherwise deserted market street. Every other stand remained empty, just like the night before. Paul's nostrils flared slightly as he stroked his beard—a habit of his when annoyed. And clearly, the questions were wearing thin.
"Maybe once you leave your spot, everyone else sets up shop again," William added. "That'd explain why you're still the only one here."
Paul smirked. "Something like that. The council made a big mistake putting me in this position. They should've known I'd take full advantage. No competition means more profit for me. I can keep this going for weeks!"
"That doesn't sound healthy. What about rest, food, hygiene?"
"I sell food, genius. I just eat from my stock. And my wife takes care of the rest."
William took a step back, surprised. "Wait—wife?! I didn't peg you as a married man."
Paul smirked. "Unlike you, I am taken. And with two kids. You should try growing up sometime."
The blacksmith pouted. "Hey, everyone lives differently, Paul…"
"You'll get tired eventually, blacksmith. And when you do, you'll want someone to settle down with."
"No one's as lucky as you, Paul…"
"Damn right they aren't. You should meet more pretty ladies. Whatever happened to that songstress girl?"
William froze at the name. His heart skipped, but he masked it quickly. "Alice and I didn't work out, Paul..."
Paul slapped his hands on the counter. "Will you stop that?" He let out a sigh. "Tch... I see. Well, there's plenty more where she came from."
William's chest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. Paul didn't need to know how much that name still stung.
"I'm already over it. It's been months," he muttered. "Just give me the food, will you? I'm too hungover for this talk. And try not to give your wife too much trouble with your antics."
"Just think about it. You're in your mid-twenties—it's a good time to find that special someone. Maybe even have a little critter running around the house."
"I don't know about kids, but... I'll think about a partner. For now, I'm good where I am."
Paul packed the food into a large bag. It was heavy enough that he had to step out from behind the counter. "Here you go. Thanks, and come again... I guess."
William smirked as he took the bag. "Hopefully by then, you've worked on your people skills. See you around, Pa—huh?"
Out of the corner of his eye, William caught sight of a figure approaching the stall. The person had a key in hand and used it to unlock the display case that held the pre-prepared meals.
"Wait... isn't that—"
Click.
The lock popped open. The figure snatched a few meals from the display and bolted. William recognized that golden blonde hair instantly.
Paul spun around at the sound of the lock. "Hey! Someone just stole from me! Blacksmith, do something!"
"Me?! What am I supposed to do?"
"You know I can't leave this stand! Just go after him! I-I'll double the food!"
William sighed. "Now that's a business proposal I can work with. Hold this for me."
He handed the bag back to the merchant.
Paul snatched it up. "Alright, alright! Just hurry!"