"Wow—Mommy, is this where we'll be living?" Zinnia asked, perched high atop Mr. Mumei-shi's shoulders, her small hands tangled in his hair as though it were the most natural seat in the world.
"No, dear," I replied, smiling despite myself. "We haven't reached the property yet."
The guide walked a few steps ahead, his pace respectful but quick, as though he were eager to be done with the task. The sun lingered past its peak, golden and indulgent, warming the stone road beneath our feet. Yet every so often, a cool breeze rolled in from the sea, carrying salt and something faintly metallic—old nets, old ships, old stories.
"Mr. Sparkle really likes your flower crown," Zinnia said suddenly.
"Oh?" Mr. Mumei-shi asked mildly, glancing upward. "Is that why he's sitting so calmly?"
Indeed, Sparkle rested among the flowers as though carved there, wings folded, unbothered by the curious stares of passersby. More than a few people slowed, pretending not to look.
*Li Hua would have been the better escort,* I thought as Mr. Mumei-shi casually handed Zinnia a sweet, drawing even more attention.
"We've arrived, sir," the guide announced, stopping before a narrow building wedged between two older structures.
Mr. Mumei-shi blinked, as if waking from a pleasant thought. "Ah. This is it?"
His gaze traveled slowly—too slowly—over the chipped roof tiles, the weathered wood, the faint bluish stain near the eaves.
"And you're asking ¥200," he said, not quite a question.
The guide nodded eagerly.
"The tiles are cracked," Mr. Mumei-shi continued, his tone conversational. "And I perceive the lingering scent of indigo."
He paused, tilting his head slightly.
"That will interfere with the aroma of Hazel's teas." A gentle smile. "¥180 would be more appropriate, don't you think?"
The guide opened his mouth.
"And that's without stepping inside," Mr. Mumei-shi added lightly. "The spiritual residue alone suggests even ¥180 may be… generous."
The man froze.
"If the shrine deems it so, then ¥180 it shall be," the guide said quickly, rubbing his hands together, his smile tight and obedient. "I am but a humble servant."
"Look," Mr. Mumei-shi said, pointing casually. "Even the window frame requires repair."
"It is as you say," the man replied immediately.
"Excellent. Come to the shrine and we'll finalize the payment."
Only then did Mr. Mumei-shi lift Zinnia from his shoulders.
"Well," I said once the guide had hurried ahead, "that takes care of that."
"It does," he agreed. "Though the location lacks refinement. Still—it will suffice."
Inside, the building revealed its quiet potential.
The front room opened directly to the street, a raised wooden floor inviting customers to remove their shoes.
"Agari-kamachi," Mr. Mumei-shi noted approvingly.
Past it lay a small inner garden, sunlight filtering down like a blessing.
"Wow—a tiny garden!" Zinnia gasped, darting ahead.
The back space was enclosed with thick, fireproofed walls—clearly storage once.
"This would do wonderfully," I murmured, imagining shelves, kettles, drying herbs. It was dusty, neglected—but sound. A place waiting to be claimed.
"Do I get my own room?" Zinnia asked upstairs, peeking into the narrow chambers.
"You do," I said, and she grinned like she'd just been granted a kingdom.
Afterward, Mr. Mumei-shi suggested we pay the community fee and make introductions.
"Renovations and taxes can wait," I said as we returned to the shrine, Zinnia already asleep in my arms, her breathing soft and even.
I wasn't sure why he had chosen to escort me personally, but I was grateful.
"When did Li Hua and the others leave?" I asked.
"The Son of the late Marquis of Draken's estate," he replied, handing me grilled squid as though this were an ordinary stroll. "He alone might understand mana beyond what you've been taught."
He took a bite, hummed appreciatively after handing the rest to the children that had been following us.
We walked in silence after that.
Moths and fireflies gathered around us, drawn to Zinnia's sleeping form, her butterflies fluttering faintly in their glow as the left with the setting sun.
Behind us, the future waited—wood, dust, tea leaves, and wings.
Ahead of us, something older stirred.
And somewhere between the two, The Butterfly Apothecary had been born.