B pushed open the glass double doors of Oakhaven Fresh Bakes.
Ring-ring!
The small brass bell chimed pleasantly above her head, but the sweet, warm smell of melted butter and baked sugar that usually filled the bakery wasn't nearly as strong today.
Behind the high wooden cashier counter, Martha, the tall, stern baker woman with her black hair tied up in a neat bun, was holding her sleek black telephone receiver against her ear. Her face was dark and serious as she listened intently to the voice coming through the speaker.
"...I understand, sir," Martha was saying into the phone, her hushed voice carrying a sharp edge. "I have indeed gotten the report, sir. The Vanguard team swept the entire perimeter of Blackwood Cemetery twice. They confirmed the Rank 4 energy reading completely vanished into thin air... No, there are no signs of spectral residue..."
B didn't pay much attention to the adult phone talk happening between her and who ever at the other end of that phone, not involving her at all. She was far too focused on her primary mission, sweet pastries.
She picked up a small wooden tray and a pair of metal tongs from the entrance table, carrying her floor-length snow-white hair in her arm as she shuffled down the central bread aisle.
However, as her large, void-black pupils scanned the tall wooden shelves, B's pale face turned completely flat.
The shelves were almost entirely bare.
There were no sweet vanilla cream buns. There were no dark chocolate rolls. There were no soft custard pastries, glazed croissants, or cream-filled rolls anywhere in sight. The long wooden racks that usually held dozens of golden pastries contained before which made B can happily pick any that she want is now holding only two plain white loaves of bread sitting in the far corner, and a single, large chocolate chip cookie resting inside a glass dish on the middle shelf.
B stared at the empty wooden shelves for three long seconds.
Her heart sank into her leather boots. Her payday reward, her glorious cream bun dream, had completely shattered.
"No..mNo cream buns...?" B whispered to herself, her child-like voice full of quiet, tragic sorrow. As if someone had committed war crime against her.
Disappointed, she used her tongs to pick up the two plain white loaves and the single chocolate chip cookie, placing them onto her wooden tray. It wasn't the sweet feast she had envisioned, but food was still food, and she needed white bread for her cabin anyway.
Carrying her sparse tray, B walked over to the wooden cashier counter.
Martha was still talking into the black telephone, her back half-turned toward the front door. "...We need to keep the Oakhaven perimeter on high alert. If that Dread Class phantom is hiding its presence, it could strike..."
B stood at the base of the counter, holding her tray. Since the counter was tall, only the top of B's pale forehead, her floor-length white hair, and her big black pupils were visible over the wooden ledge.
"Excuse me," B said softly.
Martha jumped slightly, her body flinching as she turned her head down toward the sound.
Her hand twitched near her apron pocket, but unlike their first meeting, she didn't panic or throw a yellow paper talisman at B's face. Recognizing the tiny, white-haired girl staring up at her with big dark eyes, Martha let out a long breath of relief.
"Hold on, I have a... customer," Martha said quickly into the telephone receiver before slamming it back onto its metal base.
She rested her hands on the wooden counter, looking down at B's delicate, tired face.
"What's up, little grave keeper?" Martha asked, her stern expression softening into a gentle, familiar look. "Back again so soon?"
"Why are there no cream buns today?" B asked flatly, holding up her wooden tray containing only two plain loaves and one cookie. "Where did all the sweet bread go?"
Martha chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Ah... well, about that-"
CLATTER!!
BAM!!
Before Martha could finish her sentence, the glass double doors of the bakery were kicked wide open, slamming hard against the wall.
Ring-ring-ring!
"MARTHA!" a loud, energetic voice shouted through the quiet shop.
B turned her head.
Rushing through the front door was the young woman from the clothing shop, the one with the bright green ponytail, stylish measuring tape around her neck, and a massive chest that rivaled Martha's own. She was carrying two heavy paper bags overflowing with baked bread under her arms, looking exhausted yet extremely excited.
Martha let out a loud, heavy sigh, resting her hand over her forehead. "Jen... how many times have I told you not to kick my shop doors open? Why are you back anyway?"
'Martha...' B made a silent mental note in her mind. 'So the baker woman's name is Martha. Gotta remember that.'
'And Jen...' B made a second mental note, looking at the green-haired clothier. 'The clothier woman is named Jen. She's loud but I have to remember her name too.'
Jen ignored Martha's scolding entirely. She set her heavy paper bags down on a nearby table, wiped a streak of sweat from her forehead, and pointed a finger at the empty shelves.
"I needed fuel, Martha! Fuel for my artistic soul! I accidentally left a few cookies by the- there it is!" Jen declared dramatically as she snatches a stray cookie by the side of the reception. Then, her green eyes caught sight of the tiny white-haired girl standing at the cashier counter. "OH! MY LITTLE ANGEL!"
Before B could even take a single step to escape, Jen darted forward, dropped to her knees, and pulled B into another tight, powerful hug.
FLOP.
Once again, B's pale face was slammed directly into Jen's massive, soft chest.
"Mmph... mmph..." B muffled against the soft fabric, her small arms hanging limply at her sides as her boots hovered an inch off the floor.
"I missed you so much, sweetie!" Jen squealed happily, hugging B tight. But this time, remembering how B had nearly suffocated during their last meeting, Jen carefully adjusted her grip. She lifted B slightly so that B's small pale face was resting comfortably right between her large breasts, letting her breathe clean air while still holding her fast against her chest.
B let out a tiny, flat breath of relief. She didn't feel flustered or embarrassed at all; as long as she could breathe, being held like a fluffy stuffed doll took zero physical effort on her part.
"Jen bought almost all my fresh pastries twenty minutes ago," Martha explained to B, pointing her finger at the two heavy paper bags sitting on the table. "She cleared out the cream buns, the chocolate rolls, and the custard pastries in one single buy."
"I had to!" Jen protested from down on her knees, her cheek resting against the top of B's white-haired head. "I've been working non-stop since yesterday on that special dress I measured you for, little angel! I didn't even sleep last night! The design is coming along so amazingly well that I couldn't stop to cook real meals! So I just came over here and bought all of Martha's sweet bread to eat while I work!"
Martha crossed her arms over her apron, raising an eyebrow. "You know there are scary rumors spreading through the village today, right? People are locking their doors because of that tragedy in Oakridge Town."
Jen waved her hand dismissively, her chin resting on B's shoulder. "Pfft! A wild rumor from twenty kilometers away! People in small towns always panic over nothing. Some guy goes crazy in another town, and suddenly everyone thinks a monster is roaming the streets? It's completely exaggerated. I'm far too busy sewing to worry about ghost stories!"
B nodded her soft head in complete agreement from inside Jen's embrace. 'Exactly,' B thought to herself. 'Exaggerated rumors. No reason to miss out on bread.'
However, while Jen laughed off the scary stories, Martha remained completely silent behind the cashier counter.
Martha's sharp eyes dropped onto B, staring intently at the tiny, white-haired girl being held in Jen's arms.
Unlike Jen and B, who thought the stories were just silly town rumors, Martha knew the absolute truth. As a Tier 3 Aegis operative agent, she had read the official classified reports from High Command.
The murder in Oakridge Town was real. The creation of the Rank 4 Dread Class mother spirit was real. And most terrifying of all... that monster had flown at two hundred kilometers per hour straight toward Blackwood Cemetery, where this exact white-haired girl lived, only to completely vanish into thin air without leaving a single trace behind.
Stareeeeee...
Martha narrowed her eyes, her mind racing with dark, suspicious thoughts as she glared silently at B's sleepy, emotionless face.
'The Rank 4 dread ghost vanished right over Blackwood Cemetery yesterday at midnight...' Martha thought, her fingers tightening against the wooden counter. 'And this girl was sleeping inside the cabin right in the middle of the grounds. Is she really just an innocent child... or is she connected to whatever is destroying those entities?'
B, completely oblivious to the intense secret-agent interrogation happening inside Martha's head, simply rested her chin on Jen's soft shoulder, her void-black pupils staring blankly at the wooden floorboards as she waited patiently for someone to take her Vicks and wrap up her two plain loaves of bread.
Author's Note
EliteToeCollector
Thanks for reading!