I stared down at my coffee, served in a ludicrously massive—practically colossal—mug that smelled so rich it made my head spin. Thick, intoxicating steam curled gently into the air, while a delicate star fashioned from ground cinnamon rested atop the velvety layer of foam.
Next to the saucer holding my oversized mug lay two delicate cookies, placed like sweet little complimentary tokens. But even they couldn’t draw my focus away from what sat beside them.
On a ceramic plate rested what had to be the most breathtaking croissant I had ever seen in my life. Golden, flaky, and impossibly large, it was sliced down the middle to reveal a rich filling of savory, juicy meat, crisp lettuce leaves, vibrant tomato slices, and an assortment of fresh vegetables. To top off the whole gastronomic masterpiece, it was generously dusted with crushed roasted nuts.
It looked like a work of art—an exhibit straight out of a culinary museum, if such a thing existed. It almost felt like a crime to destroy something so beautifully crafted. But the intoxicating aroma wafting from the plate made my stomach twist into an agonizing knot, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in what felt like an eternity.
Magnus sat directly across from me.
He simply sipped his black coffee—no sugar, no milk, no unnecessary frills. It was as dark, bitter, and unyielding as the man himself. I couldn’t help but picture him walking up to the counter and deadpanning: I’ll take a coffee as black as my soul. And the terrified barista just handing him a cup filled with dry coffee grounds. No water needed.
A sudden bubble of laughter threatened to burst from my chest at the thought, but I caught myself just in time.
My eyes drifted down to his hands. They were striking—strong, broad, and entirely unadorned by rings, with long, thick fingers that looked capable of bending solid steel.
"Why aren’t you eating?" he asked quietly, his gaze locked onto mine. His low, rumbling voice vibrated through the air, sending a sharp shiver down my spine and snapping me out of my trance.
He stared at me with such crushing intensity that I was convinced if he so much as furrowed his brow—if even a flicker of annoyance crossed those icy gray eyes—my appetite wouldn’t just vanish; it would cease to exist entirely.
"It’s just... it’s so beautiful," I murmured softly, feeling utterly ridiculous. Steeling my courage, I finally reached out and picked up half of the croissant.
"Do you really like it that much?"
He posed the question with such effortless casualness, while my own fingers were visibly trembling. It still felt completely surreal that something this luxurious and delicious was sitting in front of me—meant for me, rather than someone wealthier, someone more refined, someone... more deserving.
Before taking a bite, before letting myself indulge in this tiny slice of heaven, I hesitated. With Magnus, a trap could be lurking around every corner.
"Are you sure I can actually eat this?"
Magnus narrowed his eyes, tilting his head slightly as if analyzing a bizarre, newly discovered creature.
"I bought it for you, didn’t I? Of course you can eat it," he replied. A faint, barely perceptible smirk played at the edge of his lips—not cruel, but rather genuinely baffled, as if my question was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat, and finally took a bite.
It was absolute bliss.
The crunch of the buttery layers, the savory tenderness of the meat, and a rich sauce that exploded with flavor across my tongue—it was beyond anything I could have imagined. I forced myself to chew slowly, taking tiny, deliberate bites to memorize the taste, desperate to preserve the experience for as long as possible. I had never tasted anything so divine in my whole life.
The coffee was equally mind-blowing. I had never had anything like it before. The only caffeine I could ever afford was the occasional watery cup from the vending machine in the university hallway, and even that was a rare treat reserved for special occasions.
Yet here, the menu boasted an overwhelming selection—luxurious rafs infused not with cheap, chemical syrups that left a sour aftertaste, but with rich, natural ingredients. Mine was blended with real orange, featuring delicate pieces of citrus floating near the surface, steeping the foam in a sweet, vibrant aroma.
Goddess divine, I thought, staring into the rich foam. If I only had money, if I didn’t have to count every single penny, I would buy myself a different flavor every day—tasting, experimenting, enjoying life like a normal person.
Someday, I would earn enough to buy my own coffee machine and make whatever I wanted. Though I doubted I would ever be able to afford frequent trips to fancy cafes, even after I graduated and got a full-time job.
The prices here were staggering. I had caught a brief glimpse of the menu while we were waiting for our order, and my heart had skipped a beat: a single cup of coffee cost as much as I would make in three full days at that wretched bar—the very bar Magnus had casually burned to the ground.
Burned it. Just because he could. The thought made the bite of croissant stick in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down anyway.
"Thank you, that was really delicious," I murmured, carefully wiping my lips with a napkin and taking great care to avoid his gaze. "But why did you decide to feed me out of nowhere?"
He studied me intently before sliding his phone into the pocket of his dark trousers. The movement was fluid, almost lazy, yet packed with the coiled power of a hunting predator.
"I just felt like it."
I stared at him thoughtfully, searching his features for the slightest hint of a lie or some hidden agenda. I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t believe he "just felt like" buying me breakfast—men like Magnus never did anything without a motive. Yet I couldn’t fathom what he had to gain by bringing me to a cafe. He remained an absolute enigma to me.
Unpredictable.
He was like a natural disaster. It was impossible to guess what would pop into his head next or which way his mood would swing.
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