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Chapter 3 - From the Gutters to the Café — Bari’s Life Before the Spell

Bari was sixteen when he left the slums.

By then, the outskirts had hardened him into something lean and sharp — not just in body, but in mind. He'd made a decision: he would not rot in the gutters. He would climb. Not because someone handed him a way out, but because he built one. Every bruise, every skipped meal, every scrap of stolen knowledge had been a rung on the ladder.

He walked into New Sun Quarter City with nothing but the clothes on his back and a storm in his chest. What he didn't expect to find… was kindness.

The café was a small corner shop, tucked between a repair kiosk and a bookstall in one of NQSC's quieter middle zones. It was called "Stillbrew." No flash. No neon signs. Just the scent of strong coffee and the quiet hum of music from another decade.

The owner, a gruff, broad-shouldered man named Toma, spotted Bari watching from the street one rainy morning.

Toma didn't ask questions.

He saw the hunger. The quiet restraint. The fire behind tired eyes.

"You looking for work, kid?"

Bari met his gaze and nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Toma handed him a mop. And just like that, Bari's new life began.

For the next four years, Bari worked at Stillbrew.

He cleaned tables. Brewed drinks. Took orders. He watched the regulars and learned their habits. He fixed the broken coffee machine three times using only scavenged parts. In the quiet hours, he sat by the window, reading new books and learning about this new world — history, the common knowledge of the Nightmare spell, survival skills and more.

He slept in the café's back room, on a cot Toma set up after "accidentally" leaving the back door unlocked one night.

 Old man Toma never asked about his past, just supported him and that was enough for Bari. He taught him how to make a perfect espresso shot and how to deal with rude customers without starting a fight. He explained the inner workings of the world, the clans, academy and society's issues.

Toma became more than a boss. He became something like family — not by blood, but by time, trust, and shared silence.

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