A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

Robert found himself wondering, not for the first time, whether Mikoto simply possessed an uncanny talent for becoming fascinated by the most random things imaginable.

"Who would’ve guessed they’d have cafés here?" Mikoto mused, his voice light with genuine surprise as his red eyes wandered across the establishment. "This world’s a lot more advanced than I gave it credit for."

A simple spell had long since dismissed the heavy black armor he normally wore. In its place was a loose white button shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, black trousers, and sturdy boots. The clothing was plain—almost modest—but it somehow only emphasized his delicate appearance. His snow-white hair remained gathered into its familiar starburst bun, framing features so soft and refined that, despite sitting quietly in an ordinary café, more than one patron had mistaken him for a young noblewoman at first glance.

He had actually bothered changing clothes just to enter.

Robert wasn’t entirely sure why that fact bothered him.

His own attention gradually drifted away from Mikoto and toward their surroundings.

The café itself was unlike anything he had ever stepped foot inside. It was spacious without feeling empty and pristine. Polished white tiles stretched beneath every table, each one decorated with red swirls that guided the eye through the room. Sleek black walls clashed against enormous crystal-clear windows that flooded the establishment with the afternoon light. Long, carefully crafted wooden tables sat evenly spaced throughout the room, accompanied by matching chairs upholstered in dark fabric.

The clientele were every bit as refined as the building itself.

Well-dressed nobles and wealthy people spoke in quiet voices over delicate slices of pie, fancy cakes, steaming cups of tea, and dark coffee whose bitter aroma drifted pleasantly through the air. Soft conversations overlapped with the clink of porcelain cups and silver utensils, creating an atmosphere Robert could only describe as peaceful.

It wasn’t a tavern, it wasn’t a restaurant, and it wasn’t anything he had ever known.

Apparently it was called a café.

Mikoto and Robert occupied a table beside one of the enormous windows overlooking the bustling street beyond. Robert’s emerald eyes eventually returned to the youthful figure seated opposite him.

Though, in truth, he wasn’t looking at Mikoto himself.

His attention kept drifting toward what rested on the table before him.

Served in an elegant, impossibly tall glass sat some frozen dessert unlike anything Robert had ever seen. Rich brown chocolate layered together with pale cream, streaks of glossy syrup winding through the mixture before disappearing beneath soft peaks crowned with delicate shavings.

Chocolate.

Syrup.

Words Mikoto had spoken so casually.

Words that meant absolutely nothing to Robert.

Yet judging from the look on Mikoto’s face, they were apparently miraculous inventions.

Mikoto lazily scooped another spoonful with grace, his slender fingers barely curling around the handle before lifting it toward his lips. The chilled dessert disappeared into his mouth, and a small, thoroughly satisfied hum escaped him.

His free arm remained draped comfortably across the backrest of his seat, his posture completely lacking the rigid discipline Robert had expected from someone so terrifying. He looked absurdly relaxed, content, even, as though the outside world had ceased to exist for those brief moments between each bite.

Robert almost couldn’t reconcile that image with the same boy who had, only hours earlier, calmly discussed making three men disappear forever.

Even here, especially here, people stared. Young women whispered behind delicate fans, and several noblemen paused halfway through conversations. Even servants carrying trays stole lingering glances toward the beautiful white-haired youth seated by the window.

Some seemed captivated simply by watching him eat. Others looked too embarrassed to admit they had been staring.

Mikoto, meanwhile, seemed blissfully indifferent to every single one of them.

"You really do find new ways to confuse me every time I think I’ve figured you out," Robert finally sighed, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair. "Shouldn’t we be using this time to search? It feels like we’re losing precious hours."

Mikoto didn’t even look up immediately.

He swallowed another spoonful before answering.

"I’m not really wasting time if I’m actually enjoying myself." He shrugged lightly before taking another bite. "Besides, it’s been way too long since I’ve had something sweet. Longer than I’d like to admit."

There wasn’t even an ounce of guilt in his voice.

Robert couldn’t help letting out a small chuckle.

"Huh, so underneath everything else, you’re still just a kid." His smile became somewhat amused. "Granted, a very terrifying kid. One who can casually talk about murder over dessert without batting an eye."

Mikoto snorted softly.

"Yeah, well, believe it or not..." He absentmindedly left the spoon resting against his lips for a brief second, licking away the last traces of chocolate before lowering it again. The small gesture earned another wave of admiration from nearby tables, though he remained completely oblivious—or perhaps simply didn’t care. "There was a time when killing people actually bothered me too. More than I’d ever admit now."

His tone remained strangely casual.

"So when I realized I was becoming just like that other scumbag..." He gave an absent shrug, his gaze settling somewhere beyond the window rather than on Robert. "It messed with my head. I couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand looking at myself knowing I was starting to think the same way he did."

The honesty caught Robert completely off guard.

He blinked.

For someone usually so guarded, Mikoto was speaking with surprising openness. Robert wasn’t sure whether it was the peaceful atmosphere or whether the sweetness of whatever chocolate it actually was had somehow softened the boy’s mood.

The thought felt oddly fitting and almost strangely endearing.

"And how long ago was this?" Robert asked more quietly than before. "It doesn’t sound like something you’ve completely forgotten."

Mikoto tilted his head, genuinely thinking about it.

"Hm..."

He tapped the spoon lightly against the edge of the glass.

"Maybe..." he answered with complete nonchalance, "about a month ago."

Robert stared, then slowly rubbed a hand over his face.

"Of course it was."

Somehow that answer didn’t surprise him nearly as much as it probably should have.

("But I guess the phase just keeps scrambling with my mind...") Mikoto thought quietly, his red eyes remaining fixed upon the broad window beside their table. Outside, people drifted through the streets in an endless current. Merchants laughed with customers, children darted between adults, finely dressed nobles wandered with dignity, and servants hurried after them carrying parcels. It was ordinary life, peaceful enough that it almost felt detached from everything he had experienced.

("I hated the thought that I was becoming just like that bastard Selwyn...") His fingers idly rotated the long spoon between them. ("A piece of filth who could butcher people without even the slightest hesitation. Back then, when I realized I was thinking like him, it made me sick.")

His gaze lowered slightly.

("But now...") The realization settled with an uncomfortable calm. ("...now I can turn the thought over again and again, and nothing happens. It just doesn’t bother me anymore.")

A small crease formed between his brows, more thoughtful than distressed.

("Is that because I’m changing or because I’ve already changed?")

The question sat unanswered.

His mind wandered elsewhere.

("And all I ever dream about now is the Angel I used to be, or, as ever, they’re not dreams at all. They’re simply memories surfacing one piece at a time.") His fingers paused. ("The God within my soul is practically nonexistent, so I suppose that’s only natural.")

A quieter thought followed.

("Still, I remember Mom... and...")

Mikoto abruptly shook his head once, as though physically discarding the memory before it could fully surface. Whatever softness had begun to appear in his expression disappeared just as quickly.

His red eyes shifted away from the window and settled upon Robert.

The older man was still watching him.

Mikoto could recognize that look by now.

Someone trying very hard to decide whether they should ask something.

A small snort escaped him.

"If you’ve got something you’re dying to ask, then ask it while I’m still in a decent mood," Mikoto said casually before scooping up another spoonful of the chocolate dessert. He spoke around the bite without much concern, taking his time as he ate. "You’ll probably regret waiting."

Robert blinked once before giving an awkward scratch behind his neck.

"...Right."

He hesitated anyway.

"Well, I suppose what I’m curious about now is what we’re actually doing next. We’ve been wandering around the city for a while, so what’s the plan from here?"

("Liar.") Mikoto’s expression barely shifted as he continued eating. ("That’s not what you wanted to ask at all.")

He could practically see Robert swallowing the real question before it reached his lips.

Robert wanted answers to something more delicate instead. But he had settled for something safer; Mikoto decided not to call him out on it.

"We’ll go check in on the girls first," he answered simply, leaning back into his chair. "After that..." His eyes drifted briefly toward the café window again. "I’m heading back to the church."

Robert studied him for a moment before letting out a small breath through his nose.

"Still curious, huh?" Robert mused, watching the younger boy carefully. "For someone who insists he doesn’t care all that much, you certainly haven’t stopped thinking about that place."

"Obviously," Mikoto replied without hesitation. He rested his spoon inside the glass for a moment before folding his hands loosely together. "People like that don’t make sense to me."

His tone remained calm but was noticeably more thoughtful.

"They’re weak. They’ve got no power to fight back. They know exactly what’s waiting for them if those soldiers come again." His eyes remained on the pedestrians outside. "And yet they still choose to stay."

He gave the smallest shake of his head.

"I don’t understand people who gamble everything on faith alone." Another spoonful disappeared into his mouth. "So yeah. I’m still curious."

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