"Cream bread with a slice of ham in the middle."

"I want it fresh out of the oven, sliced."

"How much for these cucumber sandwiches?"

...

The bakery was always bustling with customers in the early morning. The moment Yihan pushed the door open, he saw a line of impatient patrons. The plump shopkeeper, frantically busy behind the counter, looked at Yihan like he’d spotted a lifeline.

Yihan quickly changed into his work uniform and started serving customers. The shopkeeper finally exhaled in relief and retreated to the kitchen, easing the tense atmosphere inside.

An hour later, when the crowd thinned, Yihan stole a moment to rest. Leaning against the counter, he sipped his homemade lemon soda and flexed his tired ankles.

The door chimed open, letting in a cool breeze. Yihan looked up to see a stunning woman walking in, her appearance effortlessly elegant.

Carola—whom he hadn’t seen all day—wore a soft green dress. She stopped before him, winking one eye with a playful smile. Her fair face radiated youthful vitality.

Her smile lifted Yihan’s mood. At least she wasn’t angry with him anymore.

"What can I get you?"

Carola glanced at his drink, her voice light and crisp: "Same as yours."

Yihan understood. He turned to mix her a glass, sneaking extra lemon slices when the shopkeeper wasn’t looking.

The Witch Hunter watched his back, her expression slowly turning grave. She leaned forward, took several deep breaths, and frowned.

*The scent of a Witch… overpowering!*

*They must have been close this morning. Crimson Flame Witch is definitely after him.*

*But why?* Carola couldn’t fathom it. Yihan looked perfectly healthy—maybe even pampered last night. Nothing suggested he’d been harmed.

*Could Crimson Flame Witch truly want to leave the past behind and live peacefully with him?*

Yet Carola couldn’t ignore her comrades’ warnings.

Fresh lemon soda arrived. Carola took it with exaggerated delicacy, her serpentine grace carrying her to her favorite window seat. She sipped leisurely, admiring the view, occasionally dropping new ice cubes into her glass.

Seeing the shopkeeper occupied in the kitchen, Yihan removed his apron. He carried another glass of lemon soda and sat across from her. His hesitant expression intrigued Carola, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Why so serious? Still mad at me?" she teased, voice airy.

Yihan held her gaze for a long moment before sighing. "Where have you been these past twenty-four hours?"

"Just wandering. This town has lovely spots." Carola twirled a strand of dark blue hair, avoiding his eyes.

Yihan didn’t press her flimsy lie. He looked away, softening his tone. "Last night… did you visit Lia?"

"I did." The words slipped out before she caught herself. "Did she send you to interrogate me?"

"No… This is my own concern." Bitterness rose in his throat. Her defensive tone told him this conversation wouldn’t go smoothly.

Bubbles rose and popped in their glasses. Carola tapped the smooth tabletop with slender fingers. Each tap conjured another ice cube until they nearly spilled over.

Yihan sensed her tension—and impatience.

*Dreams and reality. Past and present.* Though the same person, the Carola he knew from memories felt utterly different. Those shared escapes and battles had revealed her true self to him far more deeply than she knew him. He couldn’t bring himself to be harsh with this tragic soul.

But he couldn’t stay silent about Lia. Their bond now was nothing like five years ago. He owed her a better ending.

And Carola was his only hope.

"If you’re here to vouch for Crimson Flame Witch," she cut in before he could speak, "save your breath."

Yihan stared, bewildered by her sudden hardness.

His disappointed gaze only deepened Carola’s resolve—and her own turmoil.

*No matter what schemes that Witch has, if you plead for her, I won’t yield.*

Later, she’d cringe at her childish pettiness. They could’ve talked calmly, laid out the doubts. But her temper ruined everything.

*It’s not jealousy. Not malice.* She repeated it like a mantra, yet failed to convince herself.

Knowing her well after days together, Yihan recognized this rare, ruthless side. Anger flared, but he clung to hope: "Must you hunt her to extinction to be satisfied?"

"*Hunt her to extinction?*" Deep Blue bristled. Arms crossed, she turned away with a cold huff. "Banishing Witches is our duty. Our *job*."

"You fear her unstable power. But she’s in control now."

"And you believe a Witch’s words?"

The conversation had reached its end. Heavy silence settled. Yihan stayed quiet; Carola’s breath came fast.

After a moment, her tone softened.

"You might ignore my warning, but hear this: Stay away from her. Every word she speaks, every act she does—it’s all calculated."

Seeing his indifference, Carola scoffed inwardly and stood to leave.

Only a half-melted glass of lemon soda remained on the table, its sides beaded with condensation, a puddle forming beneath it.

*Had things really reached the point of no return?* Yihan rubbed his temples, weary.

He had so much left to say, so many questions. Another bitter parting.

Whenever Witches were involved, understanding slipped through their fingers. Too much prejudice. Too little trust.

Lia was right. The Witch Hunters would never let her be. Leaving seemed inevitable now.