“Hey,” came a sultry, dream-like voice.
“Hey,” I replied, swatting at the wind with my free hand as if it might actually rip my hair off my scalp.
“Hey.” She repeated herself, as though lost in thought while gazing deep into my eyes.
I stood nearly a hundred feet in the air, my journey to the top of the water tower leaving me ironically winded. The series of rickety ladders and spiral stairs that led up here might have been a carpenter’s cruel joke, and now I was circling the platform, drinking in the view and trying to ignore the ominous creaking beneath my boots. That’s when the voice caught my attention.
Below me, the villagers bustled about like ants circling their mismatched nests, weaving through streets that made less sense than a drunk’s excuses. The houses were a chaotic assortment of shapes and sizes, crammed together like a child’s attempt at frosting a lopsided cake.
To the east, the meadows stretched out like a painter’s careless brushstrokes, a mix of green and brown hues that hinted at both beauty and neglect. Tiny craters dotted the distance, and I had a sneaking suspicion Serah had been playing the “outdo-the-ghoul” card again.
The west offered more of the same sprawling meadows, but the faint shimmer of a river caught my eye. It meandered lazily, flanked by rolling hills and distant mountains that seemed to loom like sleepy giants. Occasionally, a shadow flitted across the sky—some flying creature out for its daily commute, no doubt.
To the north and south, the view was similar—fields and faint traces of life dotting the horizon—but one detail from the north trapped me in my gaze. A single black tower stood alone in the distance, so far away it looked like a stray ink blot on the edge of the world. Its top flared ever so slightly, a dark crown for an already ominous figure.
The longer I stared, the more it unnerved me. The tower’s size seemed almost mythical, as if reaching it would take not just days of travel but also several existential crises along the way. It didn’t belong in the natural beauty of the land—it loomed like a bad secret the earth was trying to hide.
The sky above wore a mask of normalcy, the sun hanging mid-afternoon like it didn’t know how long it had been there. Clouds floated by in fluffy clusters, carefree as a retiree on vacation. The wind guided them aimlessly, a shepherd with no real plan, and they drifted along, blissfully ignorant of the hellscape beneath them.
But even the sky felt… off. Time had become a liar in this place, and the sun’s leisurely position only added to the unease that something wasn’t quite right.
As the clouds shuffled lazily along, a peculiar sight peeked through the gaps. A delicate, glittering gold line stretched across the sky, arching gently from north to south like some divine afterthought. It looked impossibly thin, a shimmering thread that seemed ready to snap at the slightest touch.
The line glowed faintly, like starlight captured in a seam of the heavens. It was the kind of thing you couldn’t look at for too long without feeling like you’d fall into a daydream—and yet, I couldn’t look away.
It was then that the voice broke my trance. With one final reluctant glance at the strange celestial line, I turned toward the source of the interruption—and found myself face to face with something I wasn’t remotely prepared for.
A harpy.
Before me stood a striking woman with cropped, pale blue hair that shimmered like frost in sunlight. She wore a red leotard– thank the gods – its snug fit breaking into graceful flaps at her waist that swayed lightly in the breeze.
Her eyes were half-lidded, her chiseled features tilted in a dreamy, almost seductive lean, and her lips parted just enough to suggest she might be debating whether to ask me a question or recite a sultry poem.
I quickly shifted my gaze upward, pretending not to notice the kind of curves bards might write scandalous ballads about.
Her arms, feathered in hues that matched her icy hair, folded into grand wings that looked like they could wrap me up in an uncomfortably personal hug. Beneath the counter, her legs stretched long and lithe, their leathery texture suggesting scales that probably ended in sharp talons. She easily stood taller than Ichni’s living form—not counting the hair—and her imposing height only added to the surreal nature of her presence.
With her sleepy gaze and inviting posture, I couldn’t tell if I was about to sign up for a delivery gig or a starring role as her concubine.
After studying her for a moment, however, I had realized that the bedroom she yearned for was her own, as she began nodding off in the lull of our conversation. Realizing I was being perverted with whatever leer a half-undead swordsman can create, I pulled myself together to continue where we left off.
“Did you need something?” I asked as I took one of the seats in front of the counter.
She jolted awake, her wings fluffing slightly as though I’d yanked her out of a particularly cozy daydream.
“Actually,” she said, her voice suddenly brightening as if I’d flipped a switch, “I need a letter delivered!”
“By me?” I blurted, my brain immediately running through job-related panic scenarios I hadn’t even signed up for yet.
“Well, duh, you’re a hexpress carrier, right?”
“What the? When the hell was someone gonna tell me this? Is that some kind of venereal disease?” I shot back, baffled and maybe a little indignant.
“Oh, wait!” she exclaimed, sticking her tongue out like a kid caught red-handed. “I’m the hexpress carrier!”
I balked at the sudden demotion, unsure to be disappointed or relieved, before realizing that it was the profession she was talking about. I felt a cold stare coming from the gauntlet Ichni was resting in, as though the words “She’s a mailbird, murakka!” had been coming out of it.
Scrambling to regain some sense of control over the conversation, I coughed and announced, “Then I have a letter for you to deliver!” The harpy’s eyes lit up, clearly delighted by whatever shenanigan we’ve stumbled into.
“You do? Great! Hand it over!” she chirped, extending one fold of her feathery wing like a makeshift mailbox slot.
I instinctively reached for my pocket, only to find it empty. No letter, no parcel, not even a stray scrap of paper. Unless I wanted to send these rotted hoplop carcasses to Onshi, I was shit out of luck to follow through with my brain fart. I offered a sheepish grin instead, my embarrassment practically audible.
“I think I’m getting on the wrong foot here.” I admitted, mentally kicking myself for fumbling yet again.
“Then ya better find the right one!” The harpy exclaimed, her grin as bright as the midday sun.
“I’m not here to have a letter delivered.” I went on, pulling out a sheet of paper I got from the Adventurer’s Guild board. “You had a job posting for some work here, and I was wondering if you had something I could do for some silver.”
““Oh, then welcome aboard the Harpie Hexpress! I’m Hilda!” she declared with all the gusto of a recruiter who’d just snagged their quarterly bonus. “How fast can you fly? We’ve got high-priority parcels piling up!”
“Uh… about as fast as a rock. Could I do something a little more… grounded?” I admitted, doing my best to suppress the rising shame of my clearly subpar résumé. I couldn’t fly; why wouldn’t they list flying as a job requirement for a courier service run by harpies?
Hilda blinked as if the realization had hit her like a gust of wind. “Ohhh, right. No wings. That’s okay! We all start somewhere. Here, try this!”
Before I could protest, she thrust a letter into my hands. It bore a name scrawled in loopy cursive: “Madam Bagel.” No address, no instructions—just a name and a hope. My stomach dropped faster than my confidence.
“She’s in charge of the Bagel Boutique by the west gate. You can’t miss it!” Hilda added with a helpful wave of her wing. “Now, get to it, rookie, and earn that silver!”
I took multiple looks between the letter and Hilda, who was oblivious that I was completely baffled by both the sudden job and her ditsy behavior. She smiled, sank back down, and began drifting into a mixture of preparing parcels and nodding off.
I gave a weak salute as two other harpies—busily sorting letters—cheered me on with suspiciously amused grins. It was the kind of sendoff that told me this wasn’t going to be the adventure of a lifetime, but I had already committed to this flightless folly and began clambering back down the tower.
“Now why in the seven hells did you go and do that?” Ichni muttered, her voice practically dripping with the kind of disdain usually reserved for a particularly bad meal. Even as a ghost, she managed to feel like a weight on my shoulder as I awkwardly climbed down the rickety ladder.
“I know it’s not a slime-pocalypse payday, but every coin counts!” I shot back defensively, sweat gathering at my temples. “Do you know how expensive everything is here? Even the cursed coffins probably have a surcharge!”
“WE. ARE. ON. A. QUEST,” Ichni bellowed in staccato as though spelling it out might help me understand. “We are supposed to be gearing up asap to get to these shrines, Adrian!” She began to tut at me with as much aggravation as she could muster.
She was right, of course. The silver coin wasn’t even worth the effort of climbing down and running around town, when hunting monsters, preferably stronger ones, would pay off much better by comparison. But when I saw Hilda drooping over the counter like a wilting flower, something about it just felt… right.
“It felt like the right thing to do at the moment, alright? It’s not always about the money.” I finally said, hoisting myself down another ladder. “When someone needs help, a reward shouldn’t even come close to the reason.”
She clicked her tongue audibly that made it clear I wasn’t amusing her, but she didn’t offer any resistance.
“Fine, have it your way, mitre. Hope you like minimum wage and a severe lack of health benefits!” She said with an exasperated sigh.
“Pffahaha, health benefits? You guys don’t have universal healthcare here?” I joked, thinking about all the trips I had to make to help heal the sick back in my old world.
“BLECK!” She spat with a bit of dramatic vigor. “We’re demons and monsters, why would we care about that? It’s so much easier to enslave people with crippling debt!”
I groaned, half in annoyance and half in acknowledgment. She wasn’t entirely wrong.
“I swear, if I ever become a Paladin again, that’s the first thing I’m fixing. Affordable healing for all. Paladins for Progress or something like that.” My voice carried a spark of hope, one I immediately saw Ichni gearing up to extinguish.
“Sounds great, Adrian, go be that inspiring beacon of salvation for all of the people.” she jabbed, her tone sweetly mocking. “You know what’d make that faster?”
“... By freeing the spirits from the fights and defeating your father?” I asked, almost rhetorically at this point.
“Oh, you’re so abha!” She said sarcastically, and I think I learned that abha meant smart, judging from the tone. Not much friendlier than her usage of murakka, or idiot, from what I could tell.
“Don’t you care about helping your people, Ichni? Hilda looked like she was one lost letter away from collapsing into a coma. She’s clearly struggling.” My concern wasn’t just for Hilda but for Ichni’s apparent indifference.
“Oh, Hilda? Pfft, that lightweight? She and I go way back.” Ichni’s voice suddenly carried the nostalgic weight of a retired troublemaker. “I didn’t really want her seeing me like this, but, man, we used to tear it up together. Total pakkhas around the bottles. She’s probably just hungover. Harpies? Big party girls. When the sun sets, the feathers fly.”
I stopped mid-ladder rung, nearly losing my grip. “Wait. Hangover? You’re joking.”
Ichni leaned forward like she was about to deliver a world-shattering revelation. “Oh, Adrian… Did you think she was some innocent, overworked maiden? Oh-hoho, bless your sweet, gullible heart.” She clapped her hands and dissolved into a fit of laughter that echoed in my ears.
I grumbled, realizing the truth was slapping me across the face. Twice now, I’d fallen for the “helpless woman in need” act.
“You’re a genuine softie, aren’t you?” she teased. “If I’d played the ‘poor, heartbroken princess’ card when we met, would you have sworn undying allegiance to me on the spot?”
“First of all, no,” I said defensively, though my confidence wavered as her laughter grew louder.
“Sure, sure, Mr. Righteous Paladin,” she wheezed. “You’d be polishing my crown and swearing fealty before I even finished a single sad sigh.”
Ichni’s ghostly cackles faded into the ether as she slipped into the gauntlet, leaving me with the sinking realization that I’d been duped—not just once, but thoroughly and spectacularly twice. My shadow stretched long on the cobbled street as if mocking my walk of shame to the bagel shop.
How could I, a once-proud Paladin, fall for such an obvious setup? I mean, this wasn’t my first adventure, but apparently, it was the first one where I played the fool with such grace.
“Score one for Ichni,” I muttered bitterly as I swung open the door to Madam Bagel’s shop. “Adrian: zero.”
The moment I stepped through the door, a thunderous BANG rattled my skull like a poorly tuned bell. My instincts kicked in as I dove sideways, drawing my sword mid-air, ready to take on the phantom assassin I was sure had come to end me.
“Not today, you sneaky bastard of a slime!” I roared, adrenaline drowning out reason as I rolled into a chair and promptly tripped over it. Landing on my back with a graceless thud, I prepared to face my foe, only to be showered by... confetti?
Sparkling glitter rained down like some bizarre celestial insult. I froze mid-counterattack, sword pointed at nothing, as my brain struggled to reconcile the ambush with the festive assault.
“Wh-what...?” I croaked, still half-deaf and fully baffled as I staggered upright.
My hearing was reduced to the dulcet tones of tinnitus, but my vision was intact enough to drink in the bizarre scene. From the outside, the shop was an unassuming brick building with a cheerful red-striped awning, but inside? It was like I’d stepped into a parallel universe where even a five star chef would hesitate to yell.
Polished black-and-white checkered floors gleamed like someone had been on their hands and knees buffing them since dawn. Sleek wooden tables with matching curved benches lined one side of the room, and a glistening glass counter showcased bagels that looked so perfect they probably came with their own theme music. Each one was practically winking at me as if to say, Bet you’ve never had anything like us before, huh, undead boy?
The whole place was cozy, pristine, and absurdly out of place in a world that otherwise looked like it had a commercial deal with dirt.
Was I still in the same town? Did I walk through a secret portal? And more importantly, could a shop this clean afford to let me sit down without scrubbing me first?
As I stood there, still half-covered in confetti, my eyes landed on the most peculiar sight yet: an elderly woman hovering behind the counter. And I don’t mean “hovering” like she had a majestic presence—I mean she was actually levitating. Her delicate, fairy-like wings fluttered as she moved, their translucent edges catching the light like shards of stained glass.
Her gray hair was neatly twisted into a bun, her large round glasses framed kind eyes, and her lavender dress was somehow both simple and graceful. It was the kind of ensemble that made you instinctively trust her... or at least want to.
She was speaking, but with my ears still ringing from the earlier explosion of sound, her words were as intelligible as one of her bagels trying to explain quantum physics.
“WHAT?!” I shouted, doing my best to sound polite while practically yelling into the void.
“CONGRATULATIONS!” she boomed back, her arms shooting up as she flitted out from behind the counter like a jubilant butterfly.
“THANKS?!” I hollered, my confusion reaching new heights.
After a moment, my hearing began to normalize, though my dignity was taking longer to recover. She landed gracefully in front of me, her dainty feet tapping the ground like a delicate drumroll. Before I could figure out what was happening, she grabbed my hand and shook it with the vigor of someone congratulating a gold medal athlete.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“Oh, this is just splendid! You’ve won!” she declared, beaming so brightly I was certain I could toast bread in her glow.
“I’ve... won?” I repeated dumbly, still clutching one of my throbbing ears. “Feels more like I’ve just gone deaf.”
She waved the comment away like it was a stray fly. “Don’t be silly! You’re my 100th unique customer!”
“Your... 100th?” I said, her excitement starting to rub off on me. “That’s great! Congrats!”
“Oh, honey, no,” she said, giggling behind her hand. “This isn’t just about me—this is about you! You’re my lucky milestone! And lucky milestones get prizes!”
“I did? Sweet! What’d I win?” I asked, though the sarcastic whisper in my mind muttered, Hopefully not lifelong hearing loss.
“A free bagel sandwich, dearie! Fresh out of the oven, no less. You’ve got impeccable timing!” she exclaimed jubilantly, fluttering her wings as she glided back behind the counter.
The way she floated was mesmerizing, and I noticed her dress—a simple lavender number—had an understated elegance that matched her demeanor. Oddly enough, she wasn’t wearing shoes, but her feet were surprisingly well-maintained, like she’d been sneaking off to spa days in between baking sessions. Not what I expected from a tricksy old menace who just flashbanged me with confetti warfare.
“Oooh! Well, I’m here to deliver a letter, but honestly, I’d planned to stop by here sooner or later. Perfect timing!” I said, flashing a smile that could only be described as a shit-eating grin. I glanced at the gauntlet and added, “See, Ichni? Hard work does pay off! Lucky day for me!”
A grumble emanated from the gem, low and discontented as I laid the letter on the counter. Clearly, Ichni wasn’t in the mood for my victory lap. That only sweetened my satisfaction. Score tied, Adrian: 1, Ichni: 1.
“Oh sweet heavens, do we have company?” The old pixie, who I now assumed was Madam Bagel herself, squinted through her spectacles, peering at me. Then, her gaze wandered, like she was searching for someone specific. When her eyes widened and she gasped, I froze.
“Princess Ichni, is that you, love? Oh, how wonderful! Please, you know you’re always welcome here. An old lady knows how to keep a secret!”
My jaw nearly hit the floor. Ichni, equally stunned, hesitated before floating out of the glove, her ethereal form radiating confusion.
“You… knew, Madam Bagel?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
“Of course, dearie! I’m a pixie,” Madam Bagel said, her grandmotherly smile so warm it could have baked another batch of bagels on its own. “If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s hiding and causing trouble!” She winked, a sparkle of mischief dancing in her eyes.
“Oh,” Ichni started, then awkwardly gestured at her ghostly form. “I thought you meant…” Her words trailed off, the awkwardness thicker than cream cheese on a bagel.
Madam Bagel shook her head with a chuckle. “No, no, love. I’ve also heard about that awful incident. That boorish brute of a captain—he had no right treating you like that.” Her expression darkened, her knitting brows practically crafting a disapproving sweater for Onshi.
“Poor Dooly,” she continued, sighing heavily. “When he found out, the first thing he did was march in here and ask if I’d seen you! You should’ve seen the sad look on his face, the poor boy. He ran straight into the woods to find you the moment he heard what happened.”
“D-D-D-Dullahan was here?” Ichni stammered, her expression somewhere between terrified and wanting to disappear entirely.
Considering how she’d warned me to run for my life if I ever so much as saw this guy, I felt the hair on the back of my pale neck rise.
“He was, dearie, he was,” Madam Bagel said, her voice tinged with both fondness and concern. “He stopped by a couple of days ago. Said he found the place where Onshi… well, you know. But there was nothing there! He’s been scouring the area ever since, poor soul, trying to find any trace of you.” She gave a sympathetic nod, her wings fluttering softly.
Ichni’s face drained of color—well, even more than usual for a ghost. “N-n-n-no! Khippa don’t tell him I was here!” she blurted out, her voice a mix of panic and desperation.
The pixie chuckled warmly, her laugh as soft as a breeze through a meadow. “Dearie, do you think I’d betray you? I made you a promise!” She leaned in and took Ichni’s ghostly hands, her own small but steady. Somehow, despite Ichni being incorporeal, Madam Bagel held her hands as if they were flesh and bone. Was it magic? Pixie intuition? Either way, it left me staring like a gawking idiot.
“Your secret’s safe with me, love,” Madam Bagel assured her. “I won’t breathe a word—not to him, not to anyone. You have my word.”
Ichni’s shoulders relaxed—well, as much as a ghost’s shoulders could relax—and she nodded, her gratitude palpable.
“Now, you!” Madam Bagel exclaimed, pointing a short but commanding finger at me as if bestowing a royal decree. “Your prize awaits, me boy! Pick, and choose wisely…”
Drool practically spilled out of my mouth as I studied the treasures behind the glass case. Three shining plates remained, their contents radiating with the promise of culinary bliss. “The Great Smoked Salmon,” “The Hoplop, Egg & Cheese,” and “The Big Spice Double Salami.”
One was conspicuously missing—a plate labeled “The Headless Ham & Cheese.” My heart ached at the thought of the simple, satisfying combo that now felt just out of reach. Madam Bagel noticed my forlorn expression and smiled tenderly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said with a wistful sigh. “I only make that every day or two—it was my husband’s favorite. If you see it on display, snatch it up before someone else does!”
I nodded solemnly, silently vowing to keep my eyes peeled for the elusive sandwich in the future. For now, though, I settled on “The Great Smoked Salmon.” Spicy food had done enough damage to my insides for a lifetime, and I didn’t think I could stomach eating anything hoplop-related unless I was desperate.
As she prepared the sandwich with the precision of a master craftsman, layering it with a creamy white sauce that looked as rich as it smelled divine, she handed it to me with a wink.
“This one’s a personal favorite. You should’ve seen the fish’s face when I caught it with my teeth!” she quipped, her laugh warm and mischievous.
I laughed nervously, unsure if that was a joke or if the image of a predatory pixie was about to haunt my dreams. Somehow, I suspected the latter.
“You’re welcome to sit yourselves at the benches or take it to go. My sandwiches stay fresh for a very long time!” Madam Bagel said with a self-satisfied nod, as if she were a magician unveiling her latest trick.
That comment made me pause. Sure, smoked salmon could probably last a while, but bread? Bread went stale faster than my stint as a treant. “Do you use preservatives or something?” I asked innocently, halfway expecting a harmless secret ingredient like honey or some mystical fairy magic.
Her smile didn’t falter at first, but then… it did. Slowly, like an ice sculpture melting under the sun, her cheerful grin collapsed into a stern, almost hauntingly blank expression.
“Do not ask about the ingredient list of the bagels of Bagel Boutique.”
Her voice was so flat and serious that the entire room seemed to chill. I felt my soul freeze as an inexplicable sense of dread settled over me. I nodded quickly, gulping so hard I could swear it echoed.
“Understood, madam!” I squeaked, feeling like a chastised child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
“Good! Good.” Her warmth returned instantly, her previous icy demeanor melting away as though it had never been there.
I sat down gingerly, unsure if I had just witnessed murderous intent from the kind lady, or if I had simply imagined the guillotine loosely hanging over my neck.
I unwrapped my bagel sandwich, and took a whiff of its buttery, smoky glory. It was like an edible symphony, and I was ready for the opening act.
Across the table, Ichni materialized, her ghostly form seated primly—except for her face. Her eyes locked onto my bagel with such intensity that it made me pause mid-bite.
“You’re not going to do that dog thing, are you? You know, where they stare at you with those big, sad eyes, silently begging for food?” I asked, narrowing my gaze at her suspiciously.
She snapped her head up, startled. “Of course not!” she protested, though her tone was more defensive than convincing. “It’s just been… a while since I ate anything, okay? And it looks, uh, really good.”
Ichni began fiddling with her crimson hair like a schoolgirl lost in thought. Her usually sharp tongue was dulled by her clear envy of my meal.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” I said flatly, taking a defiant bite. The bagel didn’t disappoint. It was divine, and I wasn’t about to share—not with a ghost who could technically neither eat nor taste.
“Something on your mind, princess?” I asked, taking a moment to savor the pure, unadulterated bliss of melted butter and smoky salmon that danced on my tongue. It was so good that I almost regretted giving her an opening to interrupt my meal—but only almost.
Ichni hesitated, shifting awkwardly in her seat before finally speaking. “Dullahan has been looking for me, right? He’s not exactly a master detective when it comes to tracking, but if he’s sniffing around this area, it’s only a matter of time before he finds us.”
“Right, I’ve been thinking the same thing.” I lied through a mouthful of bagel, nodding sagely. In truth, Dullahan hadn’t crossed my mind once since Madam Bagel mentioned him. My priorities were simple: eat first, worry later. “Keeping hidden in the glove was a good call on your part. Maybe I should grab a cloak while I’m at it. Who knows, I might discover I’m secretly allergic to rain now. That’s a thing for the undead, right?”
“Are you a cat now? What’s next, you hiss at crosses and start coughing up hairballs?” she jabbed, rolling her eyes. A bit rich coming from the girl who spat webs for a living and promised me sexual favors when she was under firing range of a holy sermon, but I wasn’t going to let the thought betray the sheer bliss of this holy sandwich.
“Hey, give me some credit here,” I shot back, my bagel momentarily forgotten. “Undead have weird weaknesses! Back when I was in that spooky emo goth shadow phase, sunlight felt like a full-on power washer to the face. Water, sunlight, even salt—there’s always something that turns us into a freaking mess. That should include him. Dullahan is... uh, he’s still a dullahan, right?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at. Dullahan is… well, Dullahan.” Ichni shrugged, her expression equal parts confusion and annoyance.
“No, I mean, headless guy, curses people, has a whip and rides a carriage of headless horses?” I pressed, trying to piece together the myths of my old-old world with whatever nightmare fuel was stalking us now. Back in the day, I’d heard of the headless horseman galloping through spooky legends, but that was more “Halloween special” than “real-life terror."
“Let’s see… carries his head? Yep. Likes to swear at people? Oh, absolutely. A whip? No, he’s more of a ‘punch a hole through your chest’ kind of guy. And horses? Uh-uh. They went extinct after the war.” Ichni counted off on her fingers with a disturbingly casual tone.
“So... he’s basically an undead juggernaut like me, but angrier?” I offered, wincing as I realized the parallels.
She laughed, short and sharp. “Adrian, you’re not even in the same league. He’s smart, cunning, and completely okay with killing anyone who annoys him. You’re, uh... let’s call it ‘mildly intimidating at best.’”
“Okay, so I’m the baby version of him.” I sighed, trying to brush off her words but failing miserably.
She grinned ear to ear, eyes gleaming like she’d landed the world’s best joke. “Hey, at least you’ve got a thicker neck than him! That’s something, right?”
It took me a moment to register her jab, and I groaned. Great. I was officially the punchline in my own life story.
“I could pass off as Dullahan’s wimpy cousin is what I’m getting out of this.” I moaned as an afterthought.
“Sure, if Scarin’ Karyn’s your mom! That’d explain the extra-ugly mug, hehehe!” Ichni chimed, pounding the table in delight.
“Okay, now who the hell is that!” I went to interrogate, but I was soon interrupted.
“Dooly isn’t all that bad, I’ll have you know.” The soft yet steady voice came from the other side of the shop. I turned to find Madam Bagel, busy stocking jars of what I hoped were bagel-friendly toppings and not, say, powdered curses for people that asked about ingredients.
“What do you mean?” I asked, more intrigued than I should have been.
“Dooly has a heart of gold—one that’s been shattered over and over,” she said, her voice tinged with a sorrow that could melt a glacier. “His eyes might not show it, but he loves this kingdom and everyone in it. When my husband passed away—bless his sweet little soul—Dooly came to help me bury him. Promised me he’d check in as often as he could to make sure I was alright.”
I turned to Ichni, half-expecting her to call that out as hogwash, but she wore an expression that teetered between guilt and confusion. Guess it’s hard to argue when the kind grandma of bagels starts painting a grim assassin as the neighborhood hero.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, you two.” Madam Bagel’s voice sharpened, her tone as warm as an oven on a cold day but firm as a rolling pin. “I’m no fool—I know what he’s done. Just know that while his body is a cold-blooded weapon, there’s something warmer beating deep inside him.”
Her words hung in the air like steam from a fresh bagel, and I didn’t quite know what to do with the image of the Dullahan as a misunderstood teddy bear with a murderous streak.
“Your… husband,” I interjected, desperate to steer the conversation away from the image of Dooly as a misunderstood softie. “How did you two meet?”
“Oh, dearie, you know just how to pull on an old girl’s heartstrings!” she exclaimed, her faltering grin transforming into a nostalgic smile. “Back in my younger wings, I used to sell bagels on the streets. He was my very first customer!”
“You married your first customer?” I blurted out, the absurdity catching me off guard.
“Yyyup! He walked up, caught a whiff of my fresh bagels, and bought one right then and there. After that, he bought the whole basket! It was love at first bite,” she giggled, swaying slightly as if carried away by memories sweeter than honey butter. She looked almost girlish, her wrinkles momentarily smoothing as she reminisced.
“It sounds like you two had something really special,” I said, prodding gently as her expression softened further.
“Ohhh, yes,” she sighed, her voice heavy with the weight of a thousand cherished moments. “Whenever I make a bagel sandwich, I imagine I’m making it for him, just one more time. That’s my secret, you see. That’s why they’re so delicious!” She chuckled softly, her hand trailing along the counter as though it were the bridge to her treasured memories.
“You miss him,” I said softly, the weight of her memories hanging in the air like the lingering scent of fresh-baked bread.
“Oh, very much so,” she replied, her wistful smile deepening as her eyes turned glassy. “I know he’s waiting for me in the afterlife, and what a reunion that will be! But as long as these old wings keep fluttering, this shop will stay open.” Her voice carried a conviction so gentle and steadfast it could have soothed a crying child.
For the first time, I saw the years she carried in the crinkles around her eyes and the delicate way her hands brushed the counter. She wasn’t just keeping a shop; she was keeping a piece of her husband alive. It wasn’t just about bagels. It was about love, endurance, and the quiet power of stubborn optimism.
It was a look that spoke volumes—a serene defiance against the passage of time.
“Besides,” she continued, her tone softening, “he’s always found a way to remind me he’s still here, watching over me, and that he loves me more than anything.” Her hand grazed the letter I had delivered, and in that moment, it felt like the paper weighed more than the world.
I stood there, stunned, as her words hit me square in the chest. “He paid for years in advance,” she explained, her voice trembling with both sorrow and joy, “just so I’d always have his letters. To remind me how beautiful I am, how strong I’ve been, and to tell me to make sure my bagels stay warm enough to comfort others. Every time I open one of these, it feels like he’s still here, standing right beside me.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. I’d thought this was just another errand, a way to make a quick coin. Instead, I’d carried the enduring love of a man who refused to let death stop him from caring for his wife.
“You’re the one who deserves the thanks,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “It was an honor to deliver something so… meaningful.”
Beside me, Ichni piped up, her voice unusually subdued. “Yeah, you know us—always helping where we can!” she said, forcing a laugh.
I glanced at her with raised eyebrows, her earlier complaints echoing in my mind. Her wide-eyed, pleading expression screamed, Don’t you dare call me out. Begrudgingly, I let it slide, savoring my small victory. Ichni might’ve been a ghost, but right now, she was eating a heaping helping of humble pie.
As Madam Bagel clasped her hands together and gave us a tearful smile, I made a silent promise: I’d never underestimate the power of a simple delivery again.
“Both of you, promise you’ll come back and visit this old bagel maker, won’t you?” Madam Bagel pleaded, her voice a blend of maternal warmth and persistent cheer. “It would do my heart good to know you’re out there fighting the good fight on a full stomach.”
“Of course, Madam!” I declared, my posture straightening like I’d been knighted into her court. “You’ll see us again soon—next time as paying customers.”
Ichni muttered something unintelligible but nodded along, likely trying to escape before any more heartfelt sentiments rendered her vulnerable.
“Good! And remember, dearie, a warrior’s might starts with a hearty meal!” she called after us as we made our way out, her cheerful laughter trailing behind like a melody on the wind.
We stepped outside, the door swinging closed behind us with a chime, and I immediately felt a raindrop splatter on my nose. I tilted my head back, groaning at the sight of dark clouds gathering overhead. The heavens were clearly preparing to unleash their fury, and of course, I had a water tower to climb. Perfect timing.
“Well, isn’t this poetic?” Ichni’s voice began from the gauntlet. “You deliver a letter about undying love and get rewarded with nature crying all over you.”
I didn’t say anything, letting the somber tone from the Bagel Boutique trail with me like a wistful memory I wasn’t quite ready to let go. The spider princess, realizing I wasn’t biting at her attempt to play down the visit, grew silent for a moment.
“You know,” Ichni said after a pause, her voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You were right, Addy. Sorry for calling you a dumb murakka earlier. This… this was worth it.”
I blinked in surprise. Was that an apology? From Ichni? Did I just witness a miracle?
“Nah,” I replied with a half-smile, “I probably am a murakka for taking this job. A harpy could’ve swooped in and done it in a tenth of the time. But… sometimes it’s about more than that, right?”
Ichni huffed, and though she didn’t outright agree, I caught the faintest hint of a smile in her tone.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, so softly I almost missed it. Then, with her usual snark slipping back in, she added, “It’s a shame ‘kindness’ isn’t an attribute on your adventurer’s card. It’d be your strongest stat by far!”
“What do you think?” I asked, smirking as the rain started falling harder. “S-rank kindness? A shiny gold medal of compassion?” It was cold, and obviously wet, but it didn’t seem to bother me as I played along. Looks like this old ghoul wasn’t hydrophobic after all.
“Pfft, more like B-rank,” she quipped. “Still, you’re definitely nicer than you are smart.”
“Oh great, and here I thought I was finally earning some respect,” I sighed, shaking my head as water dripped from my hair.
“Murakka.” I added playfully, giving her a taste of her haughty medicine.
“No, you’re the murakka!” She shot back, and then laughed.
We began to bicker like a couple of school kids as the rain took the sound away from our conversation. The sound of thick iron boots hurriedly passed us across the streets below as we took shelter from the rain and, sitting on a makeshift bench partway up the tower, waited together for the storm to pass.