As Arthur observed the surroundings of the restaurant, he found it oddly refreshing. The place was small but filled with warmth and genuine people. He could tell. Years in the military, fighting wars against foreign nations, had honed his instincts—he could sense who was good and who wasn’t. Yet, this place was entirely different from anything he had known. It unsettled him, drawing a deep frown across his face.

“Am I even allowed to be here?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Suddenly, a torrent of negative thoughts rushed through his mind. His hands clenched tightly together as he stared at the table, avoiding any chance of someone noticing his inner turmoil. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his breathing grew uneven. His trauma was clawing its way back, suffocating him in its grip.

Then, he heard a soft sound—a plate being set down on the table. Slowly, he looked up, and his eyes met the intense gaze of the enigmatic girl. Her expression was calm but piercing, as if she could see right through him.

“Uhmm, are you alright, mister?” she asked. Her voice was low, but he could hear a faint note of concern in it.

Arthur quickly covered his face with one hand, leaning his elbow on the table. “Y-Yes, I’m alright. Thank you for the food. You can leave now,” he replied, his voice strained and tinged with pain.

For a few seconds, he felt her presence lingering in front of him. The silence stretched, and then, unexpectedly, he felt warmth on his forehead. Startled, he looked up to see the enigmatic girl leaning closer, her hand gently pressed against his head. Her proximity caught him off guard, her face mere inches from his.

She smiled softly. “You finally looked straight into my eyes,” she said in a gentle voice.

Arthur’s confusion deepened. “What are you doing?” he asked, his curiosity overcoming his discomfort.

The girl straightened, letting out a small sigh. “It seems like you’re struggling with something inside your mind,” she said, her tone calm yet probing. Her eyes studied him intently, as though trying to uncover his hidden pain. Then, after a moment, her expression softened into a smile.

“My name is Alice. Nice to meet you, sir,” she said simply before turning and walking away.

Arthur sat frozen in his seat, utterly baffled. “She really is an enigmatic person,” he muttered to himself.

But then, something strange happened. The relentless ache in his mind, the pain that usually lingered for at least an hour, was completely gone. He touched his forehead, still feeling the faint warmth of her hand.

“That’s strange,” he murmured. “The pain… it vanished right after she touched me.”

His gaze shifted to the food on the table, and his stomach growled in response. The meal looked incredible, its aroma drawing him in. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt his hunger take over.

“Thanks for the food,” he whispered before picking up his utensils and digging in, savoring every bite. As he took a bite, a little light appeared in his dead eyes. It was delicious. It is indeed delicious. He never tasted more delicious food in his entire life than this. He somehow smiled but he didn’t notice it.

Alice watched from a distance, her gaze softening as she saw him smile. A wave of relief washed over her, and she found herself smiling too. Jean, noticing this rare display of emotion, smirked knowingly.

"Well, well, the witch of the restaurant finally smiles," Jean teased, her voice playful. "You're usually all enigmatic and stiff. Who knew a smile was hiding in there?"

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Alice turned to her with a bright, almost uncharacteristic smile. "That guy is just... so cute," she admitted, her tone filled with warmth. "Before eating the food I made, his face looked lifeless, his eyes empty. But afterward? It was like a spark came back to him. Isn't that adorable, Jean? And for the record, I'm not a witch." She rested her chin on her palm, a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

Jean sighed, shaking her head. "That man, though... he's a sol—"

Before she could finish, the doorbell chimed, announcing a new customer. The interruption left Alice curious but unable to press further. She let out a soft sigh and pouted. "What was she about to say?" she murmured to herself, her curiosity gnawing at her.

Meanwhile, Arthur paid for his meal and left the restaurant. The food had been exceptional, so much so that it brought on an unusual sense of drowsiness. Since the war had ended, restful sleep had been a rarity for him, the haunting memories of battle refusing to release their grip. But tonight felt different. As soon as he reached his home, he collapsed onto his bed and drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber.

For the first time in years, his dreams weren't plagued by the horrors of war. Instead, he found himself sitting under a tree, the gentle rustle of leaves and birdsong filling the air. The wind was refreshing, the sunlight warm on his skin. He smiled, savoring the serenity of the moment.

Then, in the distance, he saw her—a girl with long, white hair. Her figure was blurred, her back turned to him. He tried to focus, to see her face, but just as she began to turn, the dream shattered.

Arthur woke abruptly, his chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. Sweat dampened his brow, and he stared blankly at the ceiling. "W-What was that just now?" he muttered, his voice low and uncertain.

Turning his head, he noticed the window. The night sky stretched endlessly outside, the moon casting its soft glow. Evening had already arrived. He got up, brewed himself a cup of coffee, and stepped outside for some fresh air. The cool breeze brushed against his skin as he gazed at the moon, his thoughts swirling.

"It was... too peaceful," he whispered, recalling the dream. "Why now?"

"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?"

A soft, familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his head sharply and saw her—Alice. She stood a few steps away, her silver hair glimmering under the moonlight, a gentle smile gracing her lips.

His eyes widened in surprise. The girl from his dream and this enigmatic woman—they were the same. Or were they?

"What are you doing here?" he asked, masking his shock behind an emotionless expression, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

Alice tilted her head slightly, her smile unwavering. "Do you remember my name?"

He hesitated but nodded. "Alice, isn’t it?"

Her smile grew brighter. "That's right. And you? I don’t know your name yet. Will you tell me?"

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a faint sigh, he replied, "Arthur."

To his surprise, Alice stepped closer and took his hand. Her touch was warm, her enthusiasm catching him off guard.

"What are you doing?" he asked, instinctively pulling back a little.

"I heard from Jean that you were looking for someone to cook for you," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "How did you like the food I made earlier?"

He blinked, the memory of the meal coming back to him. "It was... incredible," he admitted, his voice softer than before. "Also, yes, I am looking for someone to cook for me."

Her smile widened, her confidence shining through. "How about me? Am I qualified for the job?"

Arthur was momentarily taken aback but soon found himself smiling faintly. "Your food did something no one else has managed—it made my nightmares go away and gave me peace. Honestly, just like what everyone says about you, you really are like a witch."

Alice laughed softly, her eyes meeting him with a knowing glint. "I'm not a witch, Arthur."

Arthur looked her in the eyes. “Sure, if you want to take the job. I like your cooking too. It’s a win-win for me.” He said nonchalantly.

Alice’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to say that so directly, and with such a neutral expression. “Be ready then,” she said, pausing for a moment. “Also, I’ll quit my current job so I can focus on cooking for you.”

She stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them, as if ready to return to where she was staying. “I’m currently living in the restaurant. After I quit, I’ll stay at your house,” she added with a smile, her expression radiantly cheerful—too bright for him to ignore.

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to keep both jobs? I mean, you’re saving money for your journey, right?” he suggested, his tone calm and thoughtful.

She shook her head quickly. “Jobs shouldn’t be taken lightly. Besides, I’ll expect you to pay me well,” she said with a lighthearted laugh, her playful tone clearly meant to brighten the mood.

To her surprise, he smiled—a small, unintentional gesture that softened his otherwise stoic demeanor. “Well, that depends on how good your cooking is,” he replied without missing a beat.