CHAPTER 115— THE FIRST SIP
Leylin left the inn behind and turned toward the inner district.
The streets changed quickly. The outer wards fell away , beggars, shouting vendors, the press of bodies — replaced by cleaner stone and quieter foot traffic. Lanterns hung at even intervals, their light steady and warm. People here moved with purpose instead of desperation.
He walked without hurry, letting the city speak around him.
Snatches of conversation drifted past.
…heard the Marquis finally left seclusion. First time in thirty years.
Thirty? Try fifty. No one's seen him since the last border war.
Some say he advanced again. Broke through to the next stage.
A woman laughed bitterly. "If he did, the whole city would feel it. The sky would crack.
Leylin kept walking. The rumors layered over one another like sediment , the Marquis, the cultivation ranks no one dared name aloud, the fragile peace that held only because the great families still feared him. This world's power structure was still new to him, but the shape of it was becoming clear: a single untouchable figure at the top, decades of silence, and now a sudden reappearance that had everyone nervous.
He turned a corner into a quieter square. A café sat at the far end, its windows glowing softly behind frosted glass. A simple wooden sign read The Veiled Cup. No grand name. No need for one. Places like this existed in every world he had known .. quiet corners where information flowed as freely as the drinks.
Leylin pushed the door open.
Warm air rolled over him, carrying the scent of roasted meat and spiced cream. A few patrons glanced up, then returned to their conversations. He chose a table near the back wall, where the light was dimmer.
A server approached almost immediately.
What will it be?
Leylin's voice came out even. "Whatever you serve strongest. Black.
The server nodded and left.
When the drink arrived, it was dark and steaming in a heavy ceramic cup. Leylin wrapped both hands around it. The tremor from earlier had mostly settled, but the warmth still felt strange against his palms.
He lifted the cup.
The first sip hit him like a slap.
Not the taste itself ,though it was richer, earthier, with a faint bitterness he didn't remember from any life before this one. No. It was the act.
He was drinking.
After seven hundred years.
The liquid rolled across his tongue, warm and alive. He felt it travel down his throat, settle in his stomach, spread a gentle heat through a body that had not needed sustenance in centuries. Not in his last existence. Not in the machine-like precision of the body he had worn before this one.
His fingers tightened around the cup.
Seven hundred years without eating. Without drinking. Without any of the small, mortal needs that anchored a person to the world.
And now this simple thing. A cup of coffee , reminded him that he was no longer above such things. This body demanded them. It wanted them.
The realization settled heavy in his chest.
He took another sip, slower this time, letting the taste linger. Different. Everything here tasted different. Sharper. More immediate. As though his new senses refused to let anything pass unnoticed.
The café door opened behind him with a soft chime.
Leylin didn't turn at first. He simply registered the shift in the air — a new presence entering, measured steps, a faint rustle of fabric. Someone who moved like they belonged here, yet carried the subtle weight of attention.
A figure crossed the threshold.
Tall enough to draw a few glances. Cloaked in dark, well-made cloth that whispered against the floorboards. The hood was lowered, revealing the edge of a composed profile and a strand of hair that caught the lantern light for just a moment.
Leylin's grip on the cup remained steady, but his pulse ticked upward.
He knew that silhouette.
He set the cup down slowly, eyes narrowing as the figure moved toward an empty table near the window ,close enough to be seen, far enough to pretend distance.
The first sip still lingered on his tongue, warm and unfamiliar.
And now this.
He took another sip, slower now.
The drink burned, sweetened, and reminded him that he was still part of this world.
And that someone else had arrived to remind him, too.