The words [INITIAL QUEST: CLEAN YOUR DAMN SHOP.] had burned in Leo's vision for two days. He'd swept, he'd scrubbed, he'd thrown out decades of junk. Now, the dust was gone, the windows let in light, and the old floorboards were visible. The place was still a wreck, but it was a clean wreck.
He wiped the last of the grime from the ancient espresso machine with a damp rag. It was a hulking, brass-and-chrome beast, all levers and gauges. A relic. Cleaning it was the only thing that kept the buzzing in his head at bay. The System was quiet, but he could feel it there, a silent, judging presence at the edge of his mind.
As he set the rag down, new text scrolled across his sight.
[NEW QUEST: BREW A "SATISFYING" CUP OF COFFEE.]
[REWARD: BASIC MANA CONDUIT.]
Leo let out a slow breath. Coffee. Of course. Because saving my life one cup at a time makes perfect sense.
Finally. Something concrete. He could make coffee in his sleep.
There was a bag of cheap, pre-ground beans on the counter he'd bought from the corner store. He scooped them into the portafilter, tamped them down, and locked it into the machine. It shuddered to life with a promising hiss. Brown liquid dribbled out, steaming weakly. It smelled… fine. Like caffeine.
He poured a cup. The System remained silent.
He took a sip. It was bitter. Thin.
A dry, mental voice, tasting of burnt coffee grounds, echoed in his skull. "This swill would disappoint a sleep-deprived goblin."
Leo set the cup down, his jaw tightening. "It's coffee," he muttered to the empty room.
"It is a crime against beans. And my internal circuitry. Try again."
He tried again, adjusting the grind. The next cup was sour. He winced as he tasted it.
"Did you brew this with resentment? It's palpable."
Frustration heated the back of his neck. He dumped the cup and tried a third time, focusing on the water temperature. The result was dark and ashy.
"A truly impressive lack of character," the System quipped, its tone flat. "I have tasted dishwater with more soul."
Frustration was a hot knot in his chest. He braced his hands on the counter, staring at the stupid, ornate tamper. This was impossible. He was following the steps. What was missing?
His gaze drifted to a low cupboard he'd cleared out yesterday. Tucked right at the back, behind a stack of old filters, had been a small, vacuum-sealed bag. He'd almost thrown it out. He retrieved it now. The bag was plain brown, no label. He broke the seal.
The smell that hit him was a revelation. It was deep and complex, with hints of dark chocolate and something wild, like a forest after rain. The beans were a dark, oily brown, each one slightly different in size and shape. They weren't perfect. They were real.
He measured them out carefully, his earlier hurry gone. He ground them fresh, the sound a low, satisfying rumble. The scent filled the small space, rich and promising. He focused on the feel of the tamper in his hand, the cool weight of it. He didn't just press the grounds down. He focused on making it level, even. Solid. He remembered the way Arthur used to hum while tamping grounds—off-key, but steady. He thought about making a cup that could warm someone's hands on a cold day. A cup that could, for a moment, make things feel okay.
He locked the portafilter in and pulled the lever.
This time, the machine didn't shudder. It purred. A stream of dark, thick liquid, the color of old honey, poured out. The air filled with a magical, rich aroma that made his mouth water. It was the smell of a real café. It was the smell of coming home.
He didn't wait for it to cool. He lifted the small cup and took a sip.
Flavor exploded on his tongue. It was deep and smooth, with no trace of bitterness. A hint of sweetness, a solid, comforting body. It was, without a doubt, the best coffee he had ever tasted.
A soft chime sounded in his mind.
[QUEST COMPLETE!]
[REWARD UNLOCKED:
A trickle of warm energy, like sunlight on his skin, flowed down his spine and settled in his chest. It was a gentle, humming warmth. It felt like a steady hand on his shoulder.
He looked at the half-empty bag of beans. Without even thinking, he focused on it. A small, transparent line of text appeared beneath it, written in the now-familiar glowing script.
[BEANS (UNKNOWN VARIETAL). PROPERTY: HONESTY. A FLAVOR THAT REFUSES TO PRETEND.]
Leo let out a slow breath. For the first time since he'd lost his job, the tightness in his chest began to ease. He looked around the clean, sunlit shop. Maybe it wasn't a tomb after all.
Maybe it was a foundation.