The next morning in the Azure Bean Café began with warm bread and glowing paperwork.
Chen sat at a small back table with a mug of cinnamon-root tea in one hand and a contract in the other. Across from him, Listra floated comfortably in her favorite cloud-cushion, sipping a steaming cup of dark nectar that was too fizzy to be called tea but not quite bubbly enough to be soda.
"So, let me get this straight," Chen said, rereading the parchment. "I get paid biweekly. My starting rate is one glim more than the lowest tier. And that's… good?"
"It's decent," Listra replied, flicking a spoon into a floating mug without looking. "Better than mop boys and coin sorters. Slightly under flame sprout handlers."
"I'd rather not be near flame sprouts anyway."
"Wise choice."
Chen nodded and signed the bottom of the parchment. The ink sparkled momentarily, then sank into the paper like it had been absorbed through magic osmosis.
"Done," he said. "So how do I actually get paid? You don't just stuff coins under my pillow or something, right?"
Listra chuckled. "We have banks, café boy. This is a town, not a fairy tale."
She pulled out a small metal tablet, no larger than a smartphone, and handed it to him. It glowed faintly. "Void check. Fill in your banking rune and hand it back. Or let me help."
"I have no banking rune."
"Then we're opening an account."
Chen blinked. "Like… right now?"
"Like right now."
Fifteen minutes later, he stood in the middle of a building made entirely out of polished tree bark and glass, watching a sentient abacus juggle ledgers behind a counter.
"Welcome to Treeknot Trust," said the receptionist—a lean orc in glasses too small for his nose and dark circles hanging lower than his self respect. "New account?"
"Yes, for him," Listra said, nudging Chen forward.
The orc examined him. "Species?"
"Human," Chen answered carefully.
"From?"
"Uh… a quiet little town. Very quiet."
The orc didn't press. "Occupation?"
"Café worker," Listra said.
"Opening balance?"
"Zero," Chen admitted.
"Charming," the orc muttered, but he gave Chen a blank check-rune stone and a whisper-quill. With Listra's guidance, Chen etched his first rune signature, almost electrocuted himself when he tapped it wrong, then finally linked it to his void check from earlier.
"Your account is now live," the orc said. "Biweekly transfers should post on Lowsun mornings. You're paid one glim above the base, so…" he did some calculations using a floating arithmetic beetle, "…you'll make ten glims every fourteen cycles."
Chen didn't know how much a glim was worth, but the idea of earning real magical money still thrilled him.
As they left the bank, he held up his new rune-etched bank stone. "This… is awesome."
"Don't lose it," Listra said. "Your whole account is stored through the signature on that stone. Lose the rune, lose the funds."
Chen carefully placed it in his enchanted apron pouch, which, thankfully, only opened when he willed it. "Got it."
With the financial side of his fantasy job complete, he walked back to the café with Listra and helped serve a few morning customers. He had to cut out before noon, though, using the time-warp door in the closet to slip back into Earth time before his school classes resumed.
As he reentered the clubroom—only twenty minutes after he'd originally left—he felt a strange emotional whiplash. Like exiting a vibrant theme park and walking straight into a school hallway that smelled like dry-erase markers and overcooked cafeteria curry.
"Chen Li Huang," said a voice behind him. It was Mr. Chao, his history and homeroom teacher. "You seem early. That's rare."
Chen smiled, trying not to look like he'd just come from an interdimensional pocket reality. "I'm trying to stay on top of things."
Mr. Chao raised an eyebrow. "Good. Because we're having another pop quiz in first period today. Most of you did terribly last time."
"Wait—what?" Chen's heart nearly leapt into his throat. "I thought the quiz was yesterday!"
Mr. Chao sighed. "It was. But everyone bombed it except three people. So today, it's a repeat."
Chen blinked. "That's… very generous."
"Don't count on it being easier."
As he slid into his usual desk, still mentally reviewing café cleaning spells and napkin-folding techniques, he realized with dawning horror that he hadn't studied at all. Not intentionally, anyway. He'd been so focused on working and surviving in the tavern, he hadn't given a thought to real-world responsibilities.
But… he had done his homework yesterday.
And Listra had helped him.
In fact, she'd walked him through similar questions.
Chen blinked.
He looked down at the quiz paper handed to him.
Question 1: Solve the system of equations using elimination—
His pencil moved almost on instinct. These were the same types of problems Listra had explained. Her voice echoed in his head.
"Like crossing tavern hallways. Intersections."
He breezed through the rest of the quiz with growing confidence. When Mr. Chao collected the sheets, Chen leaned back and smiled to himself, just a little bit.
Maybe this two-world-life wasn't so hard after all.
The feeling only amplified when gym class rolled around.
Normally, Chen was average at best—he wasn't out of shape, but he wasn't exactly doing parkour flips either. But today, his steps felt lighter. His reflexes quicker.
He caught the dodgeball effortlessly in one hand. Outran Marco, the track star, in a surprise relay. Scored three hoops in a row during the basketball round.
By the end, he was sweating but still energized. He didn't even feel sore.
"You been working out or something?" asked one of the guys in his class.
Chen shook his head. "Just… new diet."
Which wasn't a lie, technically.
When he finally collapsed at his usual lunch table, he remembered what Listra had told him that morning, before they'd opened the café.
"Café food isn't just food," she'd explained. "It's infused with vitality threads. Mortals get a temporary boost from eating anything prepared in the Azure Bean. Even something simple like toast."
"You mean I can get stronger from coffee?"
"Stronger, healthier, even luckier, depending on the blend. We serve heroes from time to time, after all."
It made sense now. He'd eaten two meals at the café since discovering it. Both times, he'd left feeling full of energy, alert, and clear-headed. He'd written it off as adrenaline, but clearly, it wasn't just that.
Chen stared at the slice of cafeteria pizza on his plate. It looked sad in comparison. Pale. Slightly sweaty. Like it had given up on life.
He needed a plan.
The next time he worked at the café, he'd ask Listra which pastries could pass as "normal" in his world. Something that wouldn't float, sing, or explode into confetti. He could bring a few home for his parents. If the food worked wonders for him, maybe it could help them too.
Especially his mom, who'd been tired lately from running the real-world café on her own when his dad pulled extra shifts at the car repair shop.
He imagined her biting into a glowing muffin and instantly getting her energy back.
Chen grinned.
This wasn't just a fantasy anymore. This was real. And maybe—just maybe—he could use the tavern not just for himself, but to make his family's life a little easier.
His phone buzzed. A message from his teacher:
Pop Quiz Results: Chen Li Huang – 100%. Well done.
His grin widened.
Maybe he would survive this semester after all.