The city moved like a living creature.
Cars roared past one another, horns blaring. People walked quickly, talking, laughing, arguing—each wrapped in their own world, oblivious to the strange presence at the edge of it all.
Karl stood near a tall building, its shape strange, yet somehow familiar. Something drew him there, deeper than instruction. The Master had said: "If you see her, you will know." Karl did not yet understand what that meant.
He watched.
Time moved differently here. Cars rushed, people disappeared into shops. Near the building, a small stall sold drinks. Humans approached, exchanged small objects, and left with bottles and cups, sipping casually. To Karl, it all felt… alien.
He returned his gaze to the building. Its gate was unlocked.
He stepped forward slowly, as if the ground might betray him. The gate swung open without resistance. He hesitated, then moved inside.
The air was warm, soft, almost welcoming. The scent of the place struck him first—comforting, layered, unlike anything he had experienced.
Karl's foot caught the edge of a carpet, and he fell awkwardly. Pain flared. He gasped, then pushed himself up, staring at the floor as though it had attacked him.
He reached down and pressed a hand on a cushion. It sank beneath his fingers. A smile crept onto his face—curiosity blooming.
"Okay… I can hear you."
A voice.
Karl froze.
A woman descended the stairs, speaking into a small device pressed to her ear. Her hair fell around her shoulders, moving effortlessly with her steps. There was an elegance in her presence, unforced yet commanding.
Their eyes met. The device slipped from her ear as she ended the call.
"Wh–who are you?" she asked, her tone cautious.
Karl pointed back toward the gate.
She tilted her head, studying him. "Oh… the post at the gate. A cook?"
Karl stiffened. His Master had never taught him lies—only commands. But instinct moved him.
He nodded. "Ye–yes."
"Okay then," she said, already turning. "You resume today. My name is Miss Ara. You can call me Miss Ara."
Karl nodded again, a little too quickly.
"And your name?" she asked.
Karl froze. The name—his name—slipped from his mind like smoke. Panic rose in him.
"Hello?" Ara pressed. "I asked your name."
Karl bent slightly, whispering, "Master… help me. I can't remember."
Ara stepped closer, concern creasing her face. "Are you okay?"
"I–I am sorry," he muttered.
Her eyes fell to his clothes. Something faintly stitched caught her attention.
"Karl?" she read aloud.
His head snapped up. "Yes! Karl."
She frowned. "Who writes their name on their clothes?" she muttered. Then sighed. "Never mind. I was on my way out before you arrived. Come, I'll show you your room. Your salary will be paid directly. You'll give me your details when I return."
Karl remained still, watching her.
"Karl," she called.
He jumped. "Yes."
"Come on," she said, leading him.
She opened the door to a neat room—soft bed, clean sheets, warm lighting.
"This is your bed. That's the bathroom. Take a shower. Make something simple for dinner—ramen. Everything you need is in the kitchen."
Karl stared, overwhelmed.
"You'll do fine," Ara said, patting his shoulder. "I'll see you later."
She left.
Karl moved tentatively, touching the window, the bed, the walls. Everything was so… human. He entered the bathroom and stared, silent.
He went downstairs.
"Master," he whispered, "can you hear me?"
Nothing.
A knock sounded.
"Hello?" a voice called.
"Yes," Karl said, uncertain. "Somebody is here."
"Open up," the woman said.
Karl touched the door, unsure how. It swung open.
The woman stopped, staring at him. "What in the angels… are you?"
"I am Karl," he said.
"Karl?" she asked, arms crossed. "What are you doing here? Where is Ara?"
"She is not here now," Karl replied. "She left."
The woman studied him again. "You're the chef?"
"Yes. Chef," he said. "That's what she said."
"Oh." She smiled faintly. "I'd love to taste your food. What have you made?"
Karl said nothing.
"You haven't made anything," she observed. "I'll come back later. Prepare something—anything."
She left.
Karl stood alone. "Prepare… food?" he murmured.
He clenched his hands. "Master… guide me."
He entered the kitchen. "She needs something to eat… Chinese kind."
He lifted his hands, closing his eyes. Energy stirred around him.
In an instant, dishes appeared—steam rising, colors vibrant, scents rich.
Karl opened his eyes, tasting one dish. His eyes widened. He sat down, smiling.
The city hummed outside. Inside, Karl was learning the strange, human rhythm of life, one small step at a time.