"I used to come to this bakery all the time as a kid," Elina said, leading Luciel through the warm, sweet-scented air. "The owner's a kind gentleman, and the desserts are even kinder. You see that over there?" Elina directed her eyes to the half-broken wooden table tucked into the corner.
Luciel followed her gaze. "Yeah. Why is a broken table here?"
Elina's eyes lingered on the round table and sighed lightly. "It's my seal of approval."
"Seal of approval?" Luciel echoed, puzzled.
The circular table was split perfectly in half. The cut was clean, sparing no sharp edges to poke out. A perfect semicircle.
Elina grinned, a little mischievous. "I broke it. I wanted to leave an unforgettable mark on this place, so... I cut the table in half and kept the other half at home."
Luciel blinked, struggling to imagine why anyone would want half a table. He almost wanted to ask but decided against it. Eccentric people like Elina probably had other stories too—stories he wasn't sure he wanted to hear.
Sharing memories made people sentimental and created attachments. He didn't want any of that. Trust couldn't be built in a day, or ever.
Elina ruffled his hair with a smile, sensing his hesitation. "Don't look so confused. I'll tell you more stories someday, just not all at once."
Luciel silently nodded, already convincing himself it was better not to get too comfortable with her. After all, people always left. He was no stranger to parting ways with someone he cherished. It was better not to know. The more you remembered, the more you had to lose.
"What are you daydreaming about? Come pick a cake, quickly." Elina playfully urged him with a light push.
Luciel's attention snapped to the display case where dozens of pastries and cakes lined up colorfully behind glass. His eyes wide and lingering, stomach rumbling with anticipation.
Elina was already interacting with the bakery owner—a round-bellied man with a gentle smile and a beard white as the snow outside. He had a unique energy that defied his old age.
"Is that your son?" the owner asked, raising a bushy brow.
Elina rolled her eyes. "You disappear for a few months and suddenly everyone thinks you've started a family. Really, Murph? Does it look like it would be my child?"
The owner chuckled, glancing between the two. "No, you're right. He's much better looking than you when you were at his age, anyway."
"You have time for jokes too?" Elina scoffed, but Luciel caught a fond smile tugging at her lips.
She watched Murphy as he moved behind the counter, his broad back familiar and sturdy. The sight tugged at old memories—the protector of her life who fought off wickedness and gave her warmth, protection, and a safe haven in the harsh cold. Elina smiled, her eyes full of affection.
Murphy turned, voice gruff but kind. "Tell the boy to choose one. Today's on the house."
Elina firmly shook her head. "No. I know business hasn't been easy due to the recent breakout. Let me pay."
"It's just a slice. No big deal," he said, waving off her concern. "Besides, seeing you again is enough for this old man." He smiled warmly, though a flicker of sadness passed through Murphy's eyes.
There was a time, Elina remembered, when he never smiled at all. He'd always dreamed of having a family but fate played a cruel hand when his wife tragically passed away during a Hollow Breakout a decade ago.
Though Murphy managed to recover from the trauma, the images of her haunted him every day. He spent years longing for someone no longer on this earth.
Then he recalled a precious memory of them dreaming about opening a bakery.
That year, a glacial storm had battered the city. The newlyweds never made it to their honeymoon; instead, they remained indoors, huddled together by the dim glow of the fireplace.
Tucked in that blanket cocoon, they spun untold stories and wishes—so many things they wanted to do, wonders they wanted to see. Yet they settled on one simple dream: a bakery.
She'd make the fresh bread, while he'd help around however he could. With the bakery's earnings, they'd travel the world until they became old and wrinkly. It had once seemed perfect.
Remembering that, Murphy refused to let their dream to rot away. He opened Murla's Bakery and had been running it alone ever since. Every loaf and pastry was a tribute—a way to encase the beautiful daydream of Murphy and his wife Laella, and keep her memory alive.
However, even the smell of fresh bread couldn't fill the gaping holes of loneliness. The days blurred together, each one ending the same way.
His bleak life continued for years until one fateful evening. As he dragged the trash out to the alley behind the shop, he noticed a small shadowy figure curled up against the spray-painted brick wall.
'A girl?'
Murphy saw her distinct purple hair tangled like a blanket. Her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, shaking. How did a young girl end up like this?
Murphy approached slowly, his steps crunching softly on the frost. "Hey there. Are you hungry?"
The girl peeked over the arms, eyes blank and expressionless. She didn't answer, just tightened her grip and curled up even more, almost like a ball.
"Come on," he coaxed, keeping his voice warm and soft. "I'll give you all kinds of pastries. I have a bakery nearby, so how about we munch and maybe even talk a while. How does that sound?"
For a long moment, she just stared at him. He stared back with gentle eyes. A flicker of hunger sparked in her eyes, to which Murphy decided to wait until she was comfortable with his presence. And at last, she nodded with the tiniest movement.
That night, Murphy brought her inside and set a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of her, along with his wife's favorite—strawberry shortcake.
He learned her name was Elina, and that the world hadn't been kind to her. He vowed to raise her to the best of his ability like a family member. Like a doting grandfather, he tried to give young Elina the best childhood she could have.
He took her in, not as an act of charity, but because he needed her as much as she needed him. In Elina, he found a reason to smile again. He found his little angel, who gave him warmth, love, and happiness—feelings he thought he'd lost forever.
"Grandpa..." Elina muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. The nostalgia always kicked in when visiting the bakery, making her emotional.
Murphy pretended not to hear her voice wavering. "I thought you'd gone back to calling me 'old man' again, just like the old days."
She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, guilt betraying her steady voice. "I'm sorry I couldn't visit you often. I know work isn't an excuse."
"Aish." He snorted. "Why are you worrying about such a trivial thing? You're Noxio's hero. I'm just a single human. Don't look at me with that face."
"I'll be sure to visit at least once a week." Elina knew arguing with him wasn't going to work. Murphy loved her too much and had always wanted the best for her.
Murphy sighed, knowing she was as stubborn as him. He turned his gaze to Luciel, his eyes serene as though a familiar scene replayed in his mind. "Take care of that boy like I did for you. He needs it."
Luciel, who'd been studying the cakes with undivided focus, finally spoke up. "I want strawberry shortcake."
It was almost comical. His voice completely flat, his face unreadable, but Elina could see the faint spark of excitement in his eyes and the way his fingers jittered in eagerness.
"How did you know that's my favorite?" Elina teased.
Luciel blankly looked at the cake, then at her. "It's your favorite?"
"I ate it almost every day as a kid. It's the best seller here, too."
"I'd like to eat that then."
Elina grinned. "Sure thing. Gramps! Two strawberry shortcakes, please!"
Murphy happily took out two slices from the counter and put them carefully in a neat handcrafted box.
"Is this your new design? It looks cute," Elina remarked.
Murphy puffed up a little. "Spent a bit too much time on designing this lil' fella. Turned out great. Customers absolutely love it. Some come just for these boxes."
"Just so you know," Elina chimed in excitedly. "I have every edition of his handcrafted boxes."
When Elina had just settled in, Murphy figured he needed something to give her life some color. And that became his inspiration—DIY crafting. He started buying materials for Elina to mess around. To his surprise, she had a talent for crafting and painting small boxes. She loved it so much that Murphy joined in the fun as well.
These boxes became little projects they'd shared through long winter nights. Now, it was a bakery tradition. Elina used to lead the production of the boxes, but since her departure, Murphy took her spot and mastered the craft.
Luciel traced the box's drawing. He couldn't help but stare at this one detail.
'Isn't that Elina and that grandpa over there?'
A drawing of a grandfather holding his granddaughter's hand. He looked back and forth at the two, forming connections together.
He then held the box to examine closer. The snowfield, the moon, the wooden cabin, every single detail made his heart flutter. It felt strange, wanting to keep something so small, so simple.
"Can I have this?" Luciel asked.
Murphy smiled. "Of course. I try to create a unique design every month, so you can even collect them if you like. They're my pride and joy."
"Thank you... Gramps," Luciel said, repeating Elina. He mistakenly thought "Gramps" was his name.
Murphy's laughter rumbled through the quaint shop, genuine and cozy. "You're welcome, kid. Come back any time."
Luciel held the box tight, a new and unfamiliar emotion settling in his chest. He wondered if it was okay to want things. Could he deserve for more? Was it safe to pluck this memory and put into his mind as a keepsake?
He silently glanced at Elina, then at Murphy, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself vulnerable, hoping this memory might last. And for the first time, inside Murla's Bakery, Luciel tasted something sweet both on his tongue and in his heart.