Elmer had returned back to the Foreign District in hopes that he would get to have a bit of Ms. Edna’s time. But of the mind to not delay her in any way, he’d decided to get everything readied first before going ahead to meet up with her.

…

The coachman of the carriage Elmer had ridden had told him that the time was thirty minutes past noon when he’d asked, so he had surmised that he had only an hour and maybe some few minutes left before Ms. Edna’s work hours had elapsed.

He’d already gone to the black market to buy a couple of pristine white papers along with four red candles, the things he’d needed to carry out a divination. He’d also bought a pencil and an eraser. Now all that was left was to sketch the unforgettable face of the man who he believed was in possession of The Warlock’s Torch.

It was for that reason he had walked into a coffeehouse, past its tall windows of polished wood which were flanking its arched elegant facade crowned by a wooden signage with the abbreviations ‘J.K.’ emblazoned in gold.

Upon getting in, bar the chimes of the door’s bell dying down, he was presented the exact ambience he had expected. It was nothing like the Orb of Fate pub, and it was for exactly that reason he had brought himself here in the first place.

The mildly filled interior of the coffeehouse was of a cozy atmosphere which was swallowed up by hushed and indistinct conversations that made no mistake of having much of a spike in tone. Any sort of voice increase from the patrons only came about to call for one of the female servers that roamed about with a white apron tied around their waists, while holding a small notepad and a pencil.

Chairs made of rich mahogany wood were arranged neatly opposite trestle tables draped with pure white linen cloths, and it was in those places the patrons had taken their seats.

They were each of the numbers six to one—the chairs and tables—and kept near the walls which flanked the door Elmer had walked in through.

At the center of the coffeehouse, from the ceiling, hung an ornate chandelier which was unlit just like the fireplace that was built from the corner wall all the way down to the left of the space. It was daytime so it only made sense that both of those things had not been lit up, since rays of light were already pouring in warmly from the windows that graced the sides of the door.

Straight ahead from Elmer’s position, where he had halted his steps in front of the door was the barista station which brought about the aroma of coffee that embraced the air of this room.

The equipment about the station reminded him of the ones of the coffee carts he had always come across at Meadbray.

The coffee vendors always took on the risk of journeying all the way down there during the weekends, for whatever reasons Elmer still did not know even now. It was not like many people at Meadbray had the money to spare for some warm coffee when they could just make good old tea at home and drink that during their rest hours.

Well, they had always come nonetheless—two or three carts at most. Their frequent appearances still did not make him spend a dime on the drink though, not like he’d had any.

Elmer took his gaze away from the station then, taking no time to glimpse whatever skilled artisans prepared and served each cup of coffee. He brushed his eyes past the wooden shelves which stood proud beside the barista station, holding within themselves an array of fine teacups and saucers, alongside jars which contained exotic spices and herbs, as he searched for a free spot to sit.

And he found one, in a place ever so better.

Elmer hurried to the end of the left side of the room, and slid himself onto the last chair there, sitting just beside the window that partnered his chosen spot.

He put the paper bag he had been holding down onto the floor and under the table, then brought out his pencil, eraser, and a pristine white paper, and arranged them all on the table before his eyes.

“Alright,” he muttered as he nudged his glasses from its bridge. “Let’s hope my sketching hasn’t become horrible.”

And with that he went to work.

Lacking the possession of a pocket watch, Elmer kept checking outside between his sketches. He was trying to use the position of the sun in the sky, along with how many people roamed the colorful streets of the Foreign District, to decipher the time and determine whether he had stayed for far too long or not.

It would have been easier if this coffeehouse had had a clock or something, but it seemed they did not bother to install such because their patrons were all of the mid to higher classes, and people of such caliber would no doubt have pocket watches.

Elmer had ignored his societal difference with the patrons in here when he’d waddled in, and he was glad they had paid him no mind as well. It made everything easier for him. Not like if they had gone ahead to murmur it would have bothered him that much anyways.

Sighing, he turned his gaze away from the sky he had been staring at and put them back onto the paper before him.

Elmer had noted what he could remember of the maggot-faced man’s features at the side of the paper so his sketching would go smoother without him needing to force his brain to remember. They were a baggy eyes and thick lips.

If only he could finish this circle quicker he would have started to draw those down.

It was his deep resentment for doing things half-heartedly that kept him erasing and erasing the circles whenever they didn’t meet up to what he had expected.

Maybe a year ago he would have been faster, but he’d had to cut back on his time for drawings when he’d begun to prepare to evacuate the orphanage with Mabel. Well, at least he still had a little bit of skill left.

It did not take much longer before he finally perfected the circle, and just when he had divided it in half, separating one part for the maggot features and the other for the human features, then did he subconsciously hear a voice speak beside him.

But since he had thrown his full concentration onto his sketches, the words flew over him, and in return his eyes remained on his paper, while his hands readied to set to work on drawing the baggy eyes of the maggot-faced man.

Again, the voice came, though Elmer’s response was still the same. Until…

“Elmer Hills,” the person beside him said, and now he noticed and reacted to the faint, lifeless voice his name had been called with, and what more, in full.

Elmer’s brows fell down for a moment as his sketching ceased. Blinking owlishly, he immediately turned his head to his side to, in utter bewilderment, behold a familiar person.

He tilted his head to his side and assessed from head to black T-bar shoes the young lady standing to the end of the trestle table he was seated before.

A round face with pale skin, along with shoulder-length shaggy hair of dark blonde, and as well narrow golden eyes with an indistinct mole to the left one, she reminded him so much of his downstairs neighbor that he blurted without thought, “Polly Bagley?”

The lady’s expression did not change. Plain, it was—plain, distant, and unwelcoming.

“Yes, Elmer Hills. Now, would you please place your order?” she said before readying her pencil and notepad.

Elmer had heard her words clearly this time, but he still took a few more seconds to glance over her attire. It was a long-sleeved high neck white blouse tucked into the waistline of her brown shin-length tartan skirt.

She also had long white socks on which rose past the hem of her skirt, and about her waist was the trademark of the female servers working here, a white apron. Along with the moderate jewelry of stud earrings, bracelets, and necklace, no person in a million years would ever guess that she was living at Tooth and Nails street—a place home to peasants.

Elmer himself could still not believe that this was his neighbor no matter how much he’d tried.

Enough money to be able to spare some on cigarettes, choice of clothes that had the tags of ‘expensive’ sprayed all over them, and working in a coffeehouse where mid to high class patrons visited.

He no longer cared that she was living in the same apartment as him, there was no way they belonged in the same hierarchy.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Any longer and you will burn a hole through me with your eyes,” Polly remarked, snapping Elmer back to the reality of how awkward his stares would make any lady feel. He cleared his throat and retracted his gaze then, putting them back onto his paper. “Have you thought of anything to order yet—while you were staring, of course?”

He was in a coffeehouse, and he didn’t like coffee, so obviously he wasn’t of the mind to order anything. He had come in here solely because of its quiet.

“I don’t think I’m interested in anything, thank you,” Elmer told Polly as he picked up his pencil to resume his sketching.

“Well, too bad. It’s either you order or you leave.”

Elmer abruptly stopped his attempt to resume drawing, and forced his eyes back toward the nonchalant lady not too far from him.

“What?”

“It’s either you order something or leave. This is not a charity spot for peasants to come in and leisurely relax.” Elmer’s demeanor instantly scrunched in annoyance at those words. But before he could voice any of his feelings for being talked to in such a manner, she continued, “Of course, all those were said by my employer.” Polly sighed. “So kindly order, Elmer Hills.”

Elmer exhaled dejectedly, loosened the squeeze his face had had, and turned to gaze out the window.

He was not thirsty in any way, and he really did not want to spend his money on something he was not of the mind to have. Although, it was either that or he got kicked out of this serene spot. Only if he could find some other place that would have the same ambience as this. Possible, but the time was not there.

Guess I have no choice but to order… What coffee now, because I’ll have to drink it, can’t waste what I’ve spent my money on, and I don’t want to drink something I don’t like…

Making up his mind, Elmer turned from the window and back to Polly, but before he could let his lips loose, she let hers first.

“Let’s make a deal.”

Elmer’s brows fell down. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll pay for your coffee,” she said. “And you’ll buy the meal I previously mentioned to you tonight.” Elmer’s eyes widened considerably as a dazed look swept onto his face. Polly nudged her head slightly to the side at that. “What? You did not think or hope I forgot, did you?”

Elmer cleared his throat and shook away his dazed expression. “I never promised you a meal.”

“I know,” she told him. “It’ll be our meal. We’ll eat it together.”

Elmer jerked his head backward. “I don’t understand. Why should we have a meal together?”

Polly flayed him with her eyes before saying, “Have you seen how you look?”

Elmer took a glance over the parts of his body his eyes could see. Sure, he looked rough but what did that have to do with her asking him to eat with her?

“I don’t quite understand how my looks explains why—”

“You look even worse than before. You look underfed, Elmer Hills.”

Elmer gasped then, realizing that in truth his nutrition during the past few weeks had been below par. He never missed giving Mabel her meals, but for himself he’d either had little appetite or none at all.

“I’m working at the moment so it’d be nice if you could refrain from the back and forth you’re usually accustomed to. Just bring the meal when you return tonight, any will do, I’m not picky.” She cleared her throat. “What coffee would you like?”

Elmer returned his gaze back to her, and decided not to push it. “I’ll have you know that I might be coming back very late tonight. Will you be fine not eating until then?”

“I have my cigarette. Who said anything about not eating?”

Elmer almost face-palmed. Of course, she preferred that to food after all.

“I don’t have any coffee preference,” he replied to her initial inquiry.

“You’ve never had one?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Polly penciled down something in the notepad. “Sweet or bitter?”

“What?” Elmer was left confused by her question.

“I’m asking if you prefer sweet things or bitter things?”

“Oh. Sweet,” Elmer answered.

“Then I’ll bring the coffee that pertains to my tastebuds the most for you.”

“You like sweet things?” Elmer’s eyes narrowed. He had been expecting her to lean toward less sweet to bitter things the most.

“Yes,” Polly answered, her golden eyes as dead as ever. “Don’t try to use my appearance to judge me, you’ll fail ten out of ten times. Now then, please be patient, your order will arrive in a few minutes.”

She turned around immediately and took her leave toward the barista station, allowing Elmer to pick up his pencil and resume his drawing.

…

He was already done with the human-like eyes of the maggot-faced man, and halfway done with the lips as well, when Polly returned with a porcelain cup of coffee on a wooden tray.

She waddled over to his back where he was seated and placed the cup of coffee a little further away from his paper as she said, “My favorite, café au lait.”

Such a complicated name…

“Thank you.”

Elmer took a glance at what made up the drink he was to have.

It had the color brown, not too deep and not too thin as well. At its center was what he suspected to be milk—frothy, it looked—poured onto the coffee in some sort of whirlpool manner.

Elmer could not even try to deny it in any way, the creamy and smooth texture of the beverage made his mouth water.

“You’re good,” Polly suddenly said, taking Elmer abruptly away from drilling the coffee with his gaze.

“Good?” he asked.

“Your drawing,” she said. “Never would have expected you to be so good at something so delicate.”

You can just say you think so because I’m either always looking rough or exhausted…

“Well,” Elmer smiled in a sarcastic manner. “Don’t try to use my appearance to judge me, you’ll fail ten out of ten times.”

Polly stared at him for a moment before scoffing. “See you tonight, Elmer Hills.” With that she left him to be.

Elmer took his eyes back to the coffee, and after a few seconds, he swallowed his spit and resigned himself to venturing into a new world.

He picked up the cup and took a sip, and even though it did not amaze him as much as when he had drunk a punch, it still did well enough that he furrowed his brows.

It was comforting, and so much that he wanted to savor every single blend he could taste. The subtle sweetness of the milk, and as well the undertones of roasted beans, caramel, and chocolate—all those which came together to create a creamy richness. It was too sweet.

I doubt those coffee carts that came to Meadbray would have been selling something of this quality… This seems like it would be quite expensive… And it’s Polly’s favorite…?

Elmer shook his head and sighed.

I don’t have time for this…

He dropped the cup of halfway drunk coffee, and resumed his sketches.

…

Several minutes later after he was done with both his coffee and sketches, Elmer hurriedly picked up his paper bag from underneath the table and rushed out of the coffeehouse.

He boarded a carriage to where the Glowing Eye bureau was located.

Upon getting there, he noticed that he had barely made it as soon as he caught sight of Ms. Edna locking up the front door of the bureau. He rushed from the other side of the street he was on and put himself onto the usually empty walkway across from it.

He had really not wanted it to get to this point, but now he had no choice.

Ms. Edna removed the door key from its keyhole, and when she turned around she met Elmer heaving out an exhale a few steps away from her.

She instantly pursed her lips. “Oh, not now, Mr. Elmer.”

“I really didn’t want it to come to this,” Elmer said, panting in between. “I just have a question, then I’ll leave you be. Just one.”

Ms. Edna dipped the key she was holding into the side of her Gladstone bag. “Your questions always have their subcategories. I’ll answer whatever you have later. I have somewhere to be.”

Elmer knew words won’t work now, so he brought out the sketch he had drawn and showed it to Ms. Edna. “I’m looking for this person, I just want to ask you if there was a way to—”

Ms. Edna suddenly snatched the paper from his hand with a tightened countenance, and that action put a stop to Elmer’s words and as well pushed him into confusion.

“What is this?” she asked, her voice somewhat stern.

Despite not understanding why Ms. Edna had reacted in such a way, Elmer answered regardless, “A sketch I made of the person who stole the item my job is linked to.”

“What’s the problem with the other half of his face?”

Elmer’s stomach curled for a second as his mind pictured the eerie movements of the maggots that embedded themselves in the man’s face.

“I really don’t know as well, but I think those are maggots or something of the sort crawling about it.”

She looked up at him sharply after a gasp. “And your employer described this person to you?” Her tone had a spike.

Elmer shook his head. “No. Luckily I had met him already. I was able to deduce he was the one when I put together the information I was given. That’s why I came here to ask you if there was any way to divine the location of a person without having an item they had been in possession of.”

Ms. Edna turned befuddled. “You met this person?” Elmer nodded. “How… How in the world did you survive?”

Those words came out cold, and Elmer’s look instantly turned incredulous as a result.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a low voice.

Ms. Edna’s lips tightened as she looked back at the paper. “This has never happened before. How could I have made such a mistake with the job distribution?” She took her eyes back to Elmer. “This person you sketched is a high level corrupted one. How in the world did you survive coming in contact with a high level corrupted one?!”