The city greeted us like a tidal wave.
Sounds first, shouting merchants, clinking coins, children laughing and chasing each other between barrels and crates. The market was alive in that chaotic way I'd almost forgotten how to love. Everything overlapping. Everyone in motion. Like a hundred little stories folding over each other and none of them waiting for permission to begin.
Smells hit next.
Warm cinnamon. Sharp citrus. Savory oils sizzling in metal pans.
And then.
Chocolate.
Thick. Rich. Sweet enough to pull a full-body shiver out of me. And somewhere beneath it—syrup. Maple. Burnt sugar. Something sticky and nostalgic in the way that made my throat tighten with longing.
I stopped walking.
"Salem," I whispered.
Her mana tilted slightly, curious. "Yeah?"
"There's chocolate. And syrup. In that building. To the right."
She blinked. Or at least, I think she blinked — her aura pulsed like it did when she was caught off guard.
"You smelled that?"
I nodded solemnly. "It called to me."
She laughed, a real, full laugh that almost startled the birds overhead. And without another word, she took my elbow lightly, guiding us straight toward the scent.
The door jingled as we stepped inside, warmth rolling over us like a hug. Somewhere in front of me, mana flickered, tall and steady. A worker, I guessed. They bowed politely and led us through the smell-drenched air to a quiet corner booth.
Cushioned. Soft. Private.
I moved to sit on one side—
And Salem sat next to me.
Next to me.
The cushion dipped beneath her weight, and suddenly her mana was right up against mine, all warm and quiet and very much there.
"You could've sat across from me," I muttered, already red.
She leaned closer, just enough to brush my shoulder. "But then I couldn't do this."
She didn't do anything else. Just stayed there. That close. Like it was the most normal thing in the world to nearly meld into me while waiting for breakfast.
We were handed menus — thin wooden frames with smooth insets of parchment and gently raised letters. Not that I could see them, but the worker was kind enough to recite options.
I immediately perked up at the mention of fried bread soaked in maple syrup and melted chocolate, loaded with handpicked forest berries.
"That one," I said before they even finished listing it.
Salem, on the other hand, hesitated.
Her mana twitched, nervous flickers.
"Um. I don't usually eat this kind of stuff," she whispered. "Demons don't… do sweet. I mean we can, but it's like—my stomach's..."
I nudged her knee. "Live a little. Get the crepes."
She made a noise halfway between doubt and surrender. "The ones with strawberries and chocolate?"
"Exactly."
"What if i'm out for the rest of our day?."
"That won't happen. You'll love it."
"Fine. But if I combust, I'm haunting you."
The worker chuckled, thanked us for our "continued service" which made both of us freeze for a second. I tilted my head after they left.
"Do you think they recognized us?"
Salem shrugged. "We are staying in the royal wing."
"That or they think we're military."
"Or nobles."
I made a face. "Gross."
She grinned. I could feel it in the curl of her mana. Then, without warning, she pulled even closer — thigh pressed fully to mine, arm sneaking behind me along the back of the couch.
"Salem," I hissed, flustered. "Not in public. C'mon, it's embarrassing. And I don't think people would like it."
She gave a long, dramatic sigh. "The world is cruel to young love."
"Stop talking like we're in a play."
"Then stop looking like the tragic heroine."
"Looking? I literally can't see."
She snorted.
Eventually, mercifully, the food arrived.
And oh, gods.
I could smell it before it touched the table. The fried bread was hot and golden, syrup dripping over the edge of the plate, berries piled like a crown of sugar-soaked jewels. Salem's crepes smelled lighter — but the chocolate was unmistakable, sweet and sharp.
We both dug in.
Silence fell. Except for chewing. And happy noises. And maybe a small gasp when the syrup hit the back of my throat just right.
"This is," Salem started, around a bite, "dangerous."
I grinned. "Told you."
She didn't answer, too busy devouring another forkful.
We ate like we hadn't seen food in weeks. Somewhere during my third bite, I paused to catch my breath.
Then Salem shifted.
"Wait," she said gently, voice closer than I expected. "You've got a little—" Her fingers brushed my jaw, hovering.
I waited.
Expecting skin. A thumb. Maybe a napkin.
What I got was her mouth.
A soft, warm press of lips to the corner of mine — a slow, careful lick to steal the chocolate off my skin.
My whole body short-circuited.
I made a noise. A horrible one. Like a squirrel fainting.
"Th-that's not okay!" I gasped, smacking her arm lightly. "You licked me!"
She smiled, completely unbothered. "I saved you."
"From chocolate?!"
"From public humiliation. You're welcome."
I groaned into my hands.
She laughed and stole another berry off my plate.
We finished breakfast eventually, plates clean, hearts full, faces probably still burning. Salem left the coins, way more than necessary. A bonus, she said. For the worker's "excellent menu performance."
We stepped out into the bright, noisy morning again.
The worker waved a thank-you from the doorway as we walked away, hand-in-hand now.
Almost.
Not quite.
But close enough.
The city only grew louder the deeper we wandered.
Laughter swelled from somewhere ahead. Sharp clinks of coins tossed onto counters. Bells ringing. Barkers shouting deals too good to be true. Everything smelled like spice and sweat and sugar and something charred in a way that probably wasn't on purpose.
And then…
"Salem," I whispered. "Games."
Her mana flickered with curiosity. "You mean the scam booths?"
"Yes."
She chuckled. "You want to lose money?"
I grinned. "They're rigged for regular folk. But I only see mana. Every enchantment, every tethered weave, every nasty little redirect—they glow like beacon fires."
A pause.
"…You wanna win the group some stuff, don't you."
I nodded solemnly. "For morale."
Salem stopped in her tracks. Her mana stilled, like a predator choosing the moment to pounce.
"One condition."
I hesitated.
"…What kind of condition."
"I want a kiss."
Dead silence.
"…WHA?"
"Right here," she said, leaning slightly forward, voice syrupy and smug. "In public."
My brain blue-screened. I stammered. Actually stammered.
"Y-you mean like a—a real kiss?! In front of people?! Salem, we're both girls—if the city guards don't gut us, society might. I know you know my secret now, but I… I didn't pay attention in Academy history class, okay?! I don't know if we're in a progressive kingdom or a puritanical nightmare!"
Salem's mana didn't waver. She just stood there. Warm and calm and radiating that infernal confidence.
"We," she said, "and especially you, are way too important to the future to hang."
And then
She kissed me.
Just for a second. No dramatics. No fireworks. Just her lips brushing mine with the kind of casual, infuriating softness that made my knees melt and my thoughts do a full cartwheel into chaos.
When she pulled back, I was frozen.
Absolutely stunned.
My mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. Nothing came out.
"You're blushing," she teased.
"No I'm not."
"You are."
"I—your lips. I—ugh." I folded my arms. "No, I don't want more. That wasn't anything. And I did not blush. So stop teasing me."
She didn't stop teasing me.
But I didn't stop smiling either.
"Alright," I muttered, dragging her toward the nearest set of scam booths. "Let's win the group some ridiculous prizes."