I am met by a blonde Elf with a large, wooden peg affixed to his nose. My eyes wander to his hands, where I spot a familiar piece of bread. Is that one of my failed attempts at the Altamura bread?

"Are you Joey?" he asks.

"Wait, do I know you?" I respond, still trying to place his face in my mind.

"My name is Truffles," he replies, awkwardly raising the piece of bread. "I wanted to thank you for the food."

As he speaks, I notice that he has an unusual gait, and his movements seem slightly off.

Wait, Truffles? Where have I heard that before?

“Truffles? Oh, right! You live with Stan and the others!”

He nods, staring straight into my eyes.

Truffles has a thin, athletic build, and his features are chiseled and defined. His skin is smooth and pale, almost translucent, and his piercing blue eyes seem to sparkle in the sunlight. He has a strong jawline and high cheekbones, and his nose is slightly crooked as if it has been broken before and didn’t set quite correctly. His blonde hair is styled in a messy, windswept fashion, and a few strands fall haphazardly across his forehead.

Even though he's part of the homeless community, one could only tell from his ragged clothes; those are tattered and torn with frayed edges and holes in various places. His tunic is made of a rough, coarse fabric that has seen better days, and it hangs off his lean frame in a way that suggests he has recently lost weight. The sleeves of his tunic are too long, and they cover his hands almost entirely while the hem drags onto the ground behind him. He wears a pair of trousers that are equally worn and threadbare, with a few patches sewn onto them in an attempt to repair the numerous holes. On his feet, he wears a pair of worn-out boots that are caked in mud and dirt from his travels. Despite his peg-nosed appearance and the poor condition of his clothes, Truffles stands up as straight as an arrow and looks at me with no trace of shame for his condition.

“Yes. I wanted to thank you for all the bread you brought. They saved some for me. It’s delicious.”

As soon as he’s done saying that, he starts fidgeting with the loaf he’s carrying.

“I’m happy that you like it, dude,” I reply with a smile on my face. “Nothing better to cure my soul than feeding someone and hearing good feedback. I don’t have much bread today, but I’ll come by to cut some more hair before work. If you need a cut, I’d be happy to help.”

I look at his blonde hair. When they said there was a guy named Truffles, I was expecting him to look like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. Instead, the guy I’m looking at right now looks more like a better-looking, young Justin Timberlake.

I could cut this guy’s hair, but I honestly feel like he would just really benefit from a shampoo and, perhaps, a trim. I wouldn’t want to make him look too good because someone might enroll him in a boy band.

“I don’t like people touching my hair.”

“Oh, it’s fine. By the way, why are you not eating that?”

Truffles plays with the loaf before giving me quite a straight answer.

“It’s not good to eat while standing. I need to sit down to eat.”

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Huh.

“Sure, there’s a bench over there. Do you want to have a chat? I was going to take a small nap before going out to source some ingredients. But it’s still early, and it’s always good to get to know more people. So, what do you say?”

He nods uncertainly, and we make our way to one of the benches at the edge of the Pratus. Say what you might about Elves, but there are more benches around this park than in all of Central Park.

So far, Truffles looks like a weird guy. I don’t remember why exactly they called him Truffles, though. Neither do I remember if it’s his real name or not.

“There’s a lot of bread riser in this bread,” Truffles say while taking a bite.

“Oh, yeah, it does require quite a bit of mother yeast.”

Huh.

Wait a second.

“You know what yeast is?”

Truffles shakes his head, uncomprehending.

“The bread riser? The thing inside the bread that makes the bread rise?”

Truffles shrugs and nods.

“Sometimes bread smells like that, and it’s puffier than normal. I tried explaining that to a [Baker], but they laughed at me. I just wanted to experiment with bread to see if there was any alchemy hidden there.”

I look at this thin, blonde guy with my eyes wide open. “You really knew, didn’t you? And people didn’t believe you?”

Somehow, I got a terrible idea.

“Yo, you can spot Truffles with your nose, can’t you?”

He nods, unbothered.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we go hunt for some these days? I’ll pay you too.”

Truffles shakes his head.

“Stan said I can’t steal truffles from the Valerii forest.”

“Are there no truffles outside Amorium?”

“Some. But Stan told the [Guards] not to let me out until I promise I won’t go looking for rare ingredients on my own. He said he’ll make me into Pigfeed if I do it again.”

“Pigfeed?” I frown.

“The fruits they feed cows and pigs? You don’t know about them?”

I shake my head.

“So, no truffles, huh?”

“The only truffles in the city can be found in the Valerii forest. But they said that if they spotted me again, they would throw me in their dungeon.”

“Wait, just to be sure. When you say dungeon, do you mean like a jail cell?”

Truffles nods.

“Ok, better than the alternative. Wait again, can I buy truffles on the market, then?”

Truffles shakes his head.

“Most of them are buried too deep in the Valerii forest, and they don’t have good-enough dogs to spot them.”

Well, this begs the question, then.

“And your nose is better than a dog's?”

“Yes,” he scratches his nose around the peg as he answers.

Wow.

I mean, this world does have magic. I suppose that the weird thin Elf guy could have a magical nose. Sure, why not? Huh. If someone put some wolf ears on Truffles, the furry girls would definitely go crazy for him, wouldn’t they?

Oh, that sounds like an interesting game. If Truffles is like a dog, what would someone like Irene be? She doesn’t give me pasta vibes like Lucinda. She’s more... aggressive, like a lion. Lucinda is more like a hard-working beaver.

Wait.

Is Irene a lion? Lions are lazy. She’s more like a tigress, I suppose. Those are the ones that fetch all the food for the males, right?

Whatever. Furry thoughts aside. Pasta is not something I’d cook for her. It’s a vibe, trust me. I need to trust my instincts.

She would react well to pasta, but she wouldn’t be stunned or ravenous like Lucinda.

God, I really need some sleep. I’m going crazy.

“Well, we need to make this truffle run sometimes. Are you up for it? The forest is in the Northern part of Amorium, right?”

“Yes. But Stan said I can’t go.”

“What if I say you can?”

He blinks repeatedly.

“Plus, it’s work. You are not doing anything wrong. Maybe I’m doing something wrong. But I’m just paying you to show me where the truffles are. I’ll dig them out myself. If they question you, you can simply put all the blame on me. And even if we don’t get the truffles because we get ourselves arrested, I’ll still pay you. Plus, you wouldn’t believe how cute certain female officers are.”

“Huh, no?”

“No? Oh, that’s a shame,” I sigh. “I would have loved to make some truffle-infused fries. They are so good. But hey, I get it, man. You are trying to behave. Sorry if I tempted you—I’m both tired and a bit off today.

I’ll see you later, okay?”

Truffles doesn’t reply as I get up and start walking to my house.

Oof.

I am getting a bit too hyper. My mom used to warn me about this. When I’m upset, I become reckless. Well, not even reckless as much as I simply become more impulsive.

The Truffles guy looked solid, though.

I wonder how he ended up on the street. I think Tiberius mentioned something about his parents leaving him? Or am I making stuff up? Who knows?

He is a bit weird, I suppose. But he’s living as a homeless person, so that’s that.

I yawn.

I wonder if I’m finally getting my [Baker] class today. It would be about damn time.