As I unlocked the door to my apartment, I was immediately greeted by my roommate sprawled out on the couch, still clad in his work attire—a grey suit paired with a long white tie.
"Hey, dude. How was the museum tour today?" I inquired, curious as to what had left him so exhausted that he hadn't even bothered to change out of his work clothes yet.
"Oh, hey Brook. Not much, just dealing with some guy who bombarded me with questions for like an hour straight. You know how it is, those types pop up every now and then," Tony replied, his weariness evident in his tone.
Chuckling at his response, I quickly retorted, "Well, I guess that means I'm on cooking duty. Last time I let you handle it, we both ended up with food poisoning, and I was stuck covering all the bills and rent until we recovered." Despite the jest in my voice, there was a hint of truth to my words.
Tony groaned in response before finally dragging himself off the couch to change his clothes. Following suit, I made my way to my bedroom, eager to rid myself of the lingering scent of coffee beans from my shift at the café.
*10 minutes later*
It didn't take me long to freshen up, and soon I found myself in the kitchen, diving into dinner preparations. Tonight's menu was nothing fancy—just mashed potatoes, steak, and corn—but it was hearty and satisfying, perfect for a casual evening at home.
As Tony and I settled down at the table, we dug into our meal, engaging in easy conversation about life's ups and downs. We even found ourselves reminiscing about how we ended up as roommates. It was a simple story, really—me spotting a "Roommate Wanted" sign and making a call. Yet, that chance encounter had led to a friendship and living arrangement that worked well for both of us.
Tony had become my first real friend in this new world. Surprisingly, I found that I didn't really miss my old world all that much. Both of my parents had passed away, leaving me and my siblings to drift apart. One had moved to the other side of the country, while another had settled in a different country altogether. As for my friends from before, we were never really all that close. So, in a strange way, waking up in this new world had offered me a fresh start, one where I could forge genuine connections and build a life without the weight of my past holding me back.
The key word being 'my', as this body's past constantly haunted me. You see, this body was once inhabited by a heavy drug abuser. Despite looking identical to my previous self, I found myself grappling with feelings of despair and intense cravings for God-knows-what substances they had in this backward world. Fortunately, I managed to overcome these challenges. With the financial support from this body's affluent parents—sent after I proved my recovery from addiction—I opened a shop and have been living a decent life ever since.
However, there was a bitter twist to this tale. Despite my efforts, I was unable to inherit the family fortune, as this body's reckless behavior had caused it to pass into the hands of my younger but more responsible brother, who if I might say is a pretty cool dude all things considered as we even occasionally go out to eat together to catch up and get to tell each other about our lives.
"I will wash the dishes you can head to sleep" Tony said as I gave him a nodded before heading to my room and going to sleep
/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/
This is fun
The next day dawned like any other, and I slid out of bed with a sense of routine that had become as natural as breathing. After a quick shower, I dressed for work, a task performed with practiced efficiency. Before leaving, I roused Tony from his slumber, receiving a grateful nod from him as I made my way out the door.
The walk to my shop, a 20-minute stroll away, was always a pleasant one, especially since I had never been fond of driving. Lost in my thoughts, I mused about the simplicity of walking compared to the hassle of dealing with a car. However, such contemplations would have to wait for another time, as I arrived at my destination and began the process of opening up shop—a task that involved its own unique set of rituals and procedures.
As I arrived at the shop, my first task was to lift the shutters, allowing the soft light of the sunrise to filter in and gently illuminate the space. With the ambiance set, I moved to the various machines, flicking switches and turning knobs to bring them to life, filling the air with the comforting hum of coffee-making equipment.
Next came the meticulous task of taking inventory, counting each bag of beans, carton of milk, and other essential supplies. Ensuring that everything was well-stocked was vital to a successful day of business.
With the mundane tasks completed, I flipped the sign on the door to open, signaling to the world that Velvet Bean was ready for business. Taking my place behind the counter, I pulled out a book I had been meaning to delve into—a tome filled with myths and magic. To call it grim would be an understatement; it delved into the notion that magic was a force reserved for the tragic and broken, a power that drove its wielder to madness and ruin.
Despite its somber tone, I found myself drawn deeper into its pages, captivated by the idea that there was a dark allure to magic, one that whispered promises of power but exacted a heavy toll in return.
My reverie was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of customers, signaling the start of another busy day. Soon, every seat in the shop was occupied, with people settling in to savor their coffee and enjoy their surroundings. This sight was a familiar one, as my café had earned a reputation as the most popular spot in the city—a fact I took pride in, given the quality and variety of items on offer.
In fact, I had recently struck a deal with a nearby bakery to supply me with fresh cakes and biscuits every week, further enhancing the appeal of my establishment. This partnership had only served to bolster my business, attracting even more customers through the door and ensuring that the steady hum of conversation and clinking of cups would continue throughout the day.
Sadly this boom did not last long as at around the mid day mark business slowed before completely stopped at 3 something I was happy with as I could continue reading my book with me falling more and more into the story, which at this point showed the main character pushing everyone he loves away as he was slowly being driven mad by the magic in his body.
*Ring*
As the familiar chime of the doorbell announced their arrival, my attention was drawn to the entrance where the man from yesterday made his appearance, accompanied by a woman clad in a crisp white shirt, grey pants, a green coat, and sleek black boots. She sported large glasses that complemented her attire perfectly, though her expression seemed somewhat hesitant as she was led inside by Simon.
With a warm smile, Simon regaled her with tales of the exceptional coffee served at my establishment, his enthusiasm evident as he guided her toward the counter where I stood, ready to take their order.
"Can I get coffee with Cinnamon and milk please" Simon said as he turned to the female next to him prompting her to speak.
"I would like dark coffee no sugar and can I get a slice of that pie over there" the woman said getting a nod from me as I began to prepare there order quickly before handing it to them as they went to go sit down near the same area Simon had sat yesterday as they began to chat as I went back to reading where I caught snipits of there conversation
"So you're saying the crown you found has a connection to every known myth! Simon, that's insane!" exclaimed the woman, identified as Betty, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Simon scratched his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he replied, "Relax, Betty. It's just a theory. But it's true that many legends mention a crown—whether it's tied to the elements or the downfall of nations, there's always something about it."
Betty seemed to ease at Simon's reassurance, taking a sip of her coffee and indulging in her cake as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Together, they continued to enjoy their drinks, their lively chatter filling the air.
As they bid their farewells and left, leaving behind generous tips of 10 dollars each, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. "Another good day," I remarked to myself as I closed up shop an hour later, ready to head home. It was a routine I hoped to continue for many years to come.