A Soft Answer

Neo took another slow bite of the bread, waiting.

The baker's expression wavered, uncertainty flickering in her tired eyes.

She was still struggling—torn between what she believed and what she was starting to realize.

Neo let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again.

"What's your name?"

She hesitated.

Her gaze dropped slightly, as if answering was difficult. Then, barely above a whisper—

"...L—..."

Neo blinked.

"What?"

Her lips moved again, but her voice was barely audible.

"...Le...na."

A Step Closer

Neo exhaled slightly, stepping around the stall.

He stopped just in front of her.

Not close enough to be intimidating—just close enough to hear her properly.

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"Say that again?"

The baker—Lena—looked at him uncertainly.

Neo waited patiently.

After a moment, she took a small breath and said, just a little louder—

"Lena."

A Name, Spoken With Strength

Neo nodded.

Then, with a slight smirk, he gestured to the loaf in his hand.

"Lena."

Her eyes widened slightly at the way he said it—like it was something worth saying.

"You can speak much louder than that," he continued. "This bread of yours is not something you should be ashamed of."

Lena's hands twitched slightly at her sides.

She didn't look away, but she didn't answer either.

Neo let the words settle before stepping back, leaning against the counter again.

Then, casually, he repeated his earlier question.

"I know I've asked you before, but what is your goal?"

Lena flinched slightly.

Neo watched her carefully.

"Why does it need to be perfect?"

The Question That Lingers

Lena's hands stiffened for a moment before she forced herself to knead the dough again.

But there was something different about her now—a stiffness in her movements that wasn't there before.

Her focus wavered.

Neo could see it.

His question had hit something deeper.

When she didn't respond, he tilted his head.

"No answer?" He asked, keeping his tone light. "Or maybe you forgot?"

At that, Lena's fingers pressed into the dough a little too hard.

A small, barely noticeable mistake—but Neo caught it.

Her body had reacted before she could suppress it.

Neo's eyes sharpened.

"I was right."

Whatever force was keeping her trapped—it wasn't just the loop itself.

It was her own belief.

A Change in Perspective

Neo exhaled softly, watching her for a moment before making his next move.

"Can you accompany me to the village?"

Lena blinked, snapping out of her trance.

She looked at him, startled, as if the thought of stepping away from her work had never even occurred to her.

Then, slowly, she shook her head.

"I still have something to do," she muttered.

Neo expected that answer.

He gave a small, amused sigh and leaned against the stall.

"You'll still be able to do it tomorrow," he pointed out. "Maybe you can get some inspiration if we go outside—even for just a bit."

Lena hesitated.

Neo could see her mind racing—searching for an excuse, a reason to say no.

So he softened his voice slightly, making sure his next words carried no force—only an invitation.

"If you still want to go home and bake, I won't force you to stay."

The Struggle Within Herself

Lena's grip on the dough loosened.

For a moment, Neo thought she would reject him outright.

But then, she just... stood there.

Still.

Silent.

For the first time, she wasn't reaching for the flour.

For the first time, she wasn't adjusting the oven.

For the first time, she wasn't trying to fix something.

She was thinking.

Not about the next batch.

Not about her mistakes.

But about herself.

Neo didn't rush her.

He just waited.