Chen Li Huang's shoes squeaked against the tiles as he walked through the quiet hallway of his apartment complex, trying to look as normal as humanly possible. Or Earth-ly possible. Or whatever counted as normal after discovering a magical tavern populated by talking mops and cyclopean baristas.
He fumbled with his keys at the door to Unit 407, only to have it swing open before he could even unlock it.
"There you are!" his mother called from the kitchen. "You're late!"
"I'm not late," he said, slipping inside. "It's literally 4:43."
"You were supposed to be home at 4:30," she said with narrowed eyes.
"That's thirteen minutes!"
"And in thirteen minutes a good son could have helped peel potatoes!" she declared, tossing him the peeler.
Chen caught it instinctively, staring at the mountain of potatoes on the counter. "You're feeding an army?"
"Your dad's inviting the Mahjong crew again. They eat like vacuum cleaners." She paused, looking him up and down. "You smell like burnt sugar and mushrooms. Were you baking pastries in a swamp?"
"I…uh," Chen hesitated. "School project."
His mom raised one eyebrow in that I know you're lying but I'm too tired to interrogate way. "Whatever. Just don't get those clothes near the laundry."
Chen sighed and changed into an old apron, peeling away at potatoes as he replayed his entire tavern adventure. He was still a little stunned by how normal everything felt now. This morning he was a lonely high schooler wiping chalk dust off clubroom chairs. This evening, he was a part-time waiter at a café run by a glowing, four-armed blue lady named Listra. Oh, and also a potential investor in a pair of floating slippers that whispered compliments to their wearers.
His life had tilted sideways, but his mom still expected him to peel potatoes and take out the garbage. Time magic or not, some things were universal.
Dinner passed in a blur of dumplings, clinking tea mugs, Mahjong slaps, and his dad pretending not to be annoyed when Uncle Fei won again. Chen managed to sneak into his room without further questions, flopping onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling.
He wanted to go back. He really wanted to go back.
But it was too soon. He had homework. And school tomorrow. And a test? Wait—was there a test?
He frowned, trying to remember what Mr. Yu had said.
"Tomorrow… short assessment… slope something something…"
He hadn't written it down. He hadn't even listened. Ugh. Magic worlds were dangerous for your GPA.
He cracked open his math notebook, only to discover that it looked more like abstract modern art than study notes. Doodles of floating coffee cups. Sketches of Listra's third arm. A very badly drawn version of Gregory the broom.
"No help at all," he muttered.
Still, he tried. For about fifteen minutes. Then his brain short-circuited and he gave up. Instead, he opened a new page and labeled it "Tavern Goals," writing down everything he wanted to do when he went back.
Taste the moonberry pie that raccoon guy kept bragging about.
Learn what the heck a "foam leech latte" is.
Ask Listra if there's such a thing as magical tip jars.
See if Gregory was always grumpy or just hated teenagers.
Find a way to earn real Glim coins and start saving.
Buy those floating whisper slippers.
And finally:
Explore the upper floors.
Because if the first floor alone was a town, who knew what awaited above? Listra had mentioned "curiosity licenses" and "realm clearances," but Chen figured he could work his way up. He was a hard worker. And also… surprisingly good at café stuff.
That still blew his mind.
In the middle of magical chaos, he had managed to take orders, clear tables, refill sugar jars that regenerated themselves every five minutes, and even calm a crying pixie by brewing lavender tea.
"Not bad for day one," he said to himself.
And the best part? He hadn't done anything special. No chosen one. No glowing relics. No epic legacy. Just… Chen Li Huang, a kid whose parents owned a bubble tea shop and taught him how to handle stress by juggling trays while dodging toddlers. Turned out, those skills transferred well—even across dimensions.
He yawned and closed his notebook.
"Tomorrow," he mumbled.
The next day dawned with the sleepy chaos of early mornings: burnt toast, last-minute backpack shoving, and the ever-mocking ringtone of Chen's alarm, which had been going off for ten minutes before he heard it.
He got to school with exactly three minutes to spare, somehow not tripping over his own feet as he ran to class. His hair was still damp. His shoelace was untied. His brain was still in the tavern.
"Hey Chen," someone said behind him as he slid into his seat.
He turned. It was Min Rui, the girl who ran the cosplay club and sometimes borrowed fabric scraps from the fantasy club. She was squinting at him. "You okay? You've been smiling like an anime protagonist after the beach episode."
"I'm fine," he said. "Totally fine. No interdimensional portals or magical brooms or time dilation. Haha."
She stared. "What?"
"I said I'm just tired."
She nodded slowly. "Okay…"
Mr. Yu walked in and slapped a stack of papers on the desk.
"Pop quiz!" he announced.
Chen's stomach dropped into the abyss.
Test. Right. He hadn't studied. At all.
As Mr. Yu passed out the quizzes, Chen tried to recall anything from the lesson. Slope formulas? Linear functions? Graphs? He was so screwed. He hadn't even brought a calculator—his brain had been too full of taverns and blue-skinned waitresses and spell-infused coffee beans that whispered bedtime stories to children.
He stared at the first question.
1. Find the slope of the line passing through points (2,3) and (4,7).
He blinked. Wait. That one… that one sounded familiar. Rise over run. Right? Something like that.
He began scribbling, grateful that muscle memory still worked when brain memory failed. He limped his way through the quiz with the grace of a limping duck. By the time he reached the last question, he was pretty sure he had invented at least one new mathematical symbol.
When it was over, he slumped back in his seat and sighed. At least he tried. But man, if tavern dreams were going to wreck his academics, he needed a study plan. Or… maybe a tutor. A magical one? Did the tavern offer math help?
He made a mental note to ask Listra.
Lunch was more normal—boxed dumplings, orange slices, and water. Chen sat alone in the clubroom, which was still dusty and lonely. None of the other students had joined. The only sign of life was the manga shelf…and the hidden door behind it.
He glanced at it, biting into a dumpling.
Should he go back now? Just peek in for ten minutes? No—bad idea. He needed control. A schedule. He'd go back after classes. Be responsible. Be… balanced.
But he couldn't stop smiling again.
Back in the tavern, Listra was calmly restocking glass jars of starlight honey behind the café bar, humming to herself. Gregory the broom was grumbling about scuff marks near the windows, while a trio of floating napkins danced to some silent music only they could hear.
"Quiet day," Listra muttered.
"Quiet's good," Gregory said. "Less humans."
She chuckled. "You're in a good mood."
"I'm always in a good mood when nothing explodes."
Just then, a teacup sneezed loudly in the sink.
Listra shook her head and smiled. "Chen better show up again. That boy's got instincts. Took to the job faster than a forest hare to a thunderroot burrow."
"Too cheerful," Gregory muttered. "No one's that cheerful on day one."
"Maybe he likes it here," she said, watching the front door with a hint of expectation.
"Well, he'd better. I'm not teaching a new recruit every week."
Back on Earth, Chen had no idea he was being missed. He was stuck in gym class, trying to dodge volleyballs and not think about magical fruit pastries. But his thoughts kept drifting.
Soon. After school.
He could almost hear the tavern calling already.