B turned the corner past the food cart, holding her half-eaten candied banana, intending to go straight to Mrs. Clara’s clothing shop. But as soon as her boots stepped onto the quiet side lane, a thick, irresistible scent hit her nose.
It was the smell of fresh, warm dough, melted butter, baked sugar, and rich vanilla.
B froze in her tracks. Her large, void-black pupils widened slightly, and her pale nose twitched.
Slowly, her head turned toward the large glass window on her left. Sitting right behind the clear glass were dozens of golden-brown pastries, shiny glazed rolls, and long loaves of bread fresh out of the oven. A wooden sign shaped like a wheat stalk hung over the double doors, reading Oakhaven Fresh Bakes.
In her past life, B lived on cheap instant noodles, cold convenience store rice balls, and bitter energy drinks. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten fresh, warm bread from an actual bakery. Warm pastries were a luxury she could never afford when every single spare penny went straight toward student loan payments.
'Well...' B thought, looking down at the stack of Vicks in her pocket. 'I have 199 Vicks. I can afford a little snack before buying clothes.'
She pushed open the glass doors of the bakery. A small brass bell chimed softly above her head.
Ring-ring!
The inside of the bakery was bright, clean, and smelled even better than the street outside. Tall wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with every kind of baked good imaginable. There were plain white loaves, thick whole-wheat rolls, dark chocolate buns, golden croissants, and small round pastries bursting with sweet, white cream.
B picked up a small wooden tray and a pair of metal tongs sitting near the entrance. Carrying her long white hair in one arm so it didn't drag across the clean floor, she began to walk slowly down the aisles, her sleepy eyes sparkling with quiet excitement.
She picked up two plain white loaves first—good for quick breakfasts at the cabin. Then she spotted the sweet section. Her tongs reached out carefully, picking up three large vanilla-cream-filled buns, two chocolate rolls, and a soft custard pastry. By the time she reached the end of the shelf, her wooden tray was completely full, piled high with fresh, soft bread.
Satisfied with her haul, B carried the heavy tray over to the wooden cashier counter at the front of the shop.
Behind the counter stood a tall woman in a neat white cashier uniform and a dark apron. She had her shiny black hair tied up in a tight, professional bun, and her face possessed a naturally stern, sharp look. But what immediately caught B's attention was the woman's chest, it was massive, stretching the fabric of her uniform tight and looking so heavy it seemed like it must be tiring to carry around all day.
The baker woman was holding a sleek black telephone receiver against her ear, completely absorbed in a low, serious conversation. She hadn't noticed the short, white-haired girl walk up to the counter.
"...I understand, sir," the baker woman was saying into the phone, her stern voice hushed and tense. "All branch personnel are on standby. But why the sudden high alert? HQ hasn't issued a DEFCON 2 warning in over fifteen years."
B stood at the base of the counter, patiently holding her wooden tray of bread. The counter was a bit high, so only the top of B's head, her pale white hair, and her big, black-pupiled eyes were visible over the edge.
"Is it related to the energy readings?" the baker woman continued, frowning deeply as she tapped her fingers against the wooden counter. "The Northern sector reported nothing unusual. What about the local zones? Blackwood Cemetery has always been a high-density spot, but our monitors haven't picked up any..."
B didn't want to stand there listening to adult work talk forever. She was hungry, her cream bun was waiting, and she still needed to buy clothes.
She leaned forward slightly, resting the edge of her wooden tray on the counter, and spoke up in her soft, high-pitched voice.
"Excuse me."
The baker woman froze.
She turned her head down toward the sound, her sharp eyes dropping from the empty air to the edge of the wooden counter.
Standing right there, staring up at her with pitch-black void pupils, translucent pale skin, and floor-length white hair, was a delicate, ghost-like girl who seemed to have appeared out of thin air without making a single sound.
"KYAAAAAAAH!"
The stern baker woman let out a loud, blood-curdling shriek. Her face went completely white with pure terror.
In a frantic, blind panic, her hand shot into her apron pocket, pulled out a small piece of yellow paper with red ink markings, and threw it with all her strength directly at B's face!
SLAP!
The yellow paper landed squarely in the middle of B's forehead, sticking there for a second before sliding down and flopping onto her tray of bread.
Silence fell over the bakery.
The brass bell above the door gave a tiny, delayed chime.
B blinked slowly. She reached up with a small pale hand, picked up the yellow paper off her bread roll, and looked at it. It was a rectangle of stiff parchment with strange, wavy red lines painted on it. It looked a bit like a cheap lucky charm or a paper bookmark.
B let out a tiny, awkward sigh. She felt a little sorry for scaring the poor woman so badly.
When she had looked into the bathroom mirror back at the cabin, she knew her new appearance was pretty creepy. White hair down to her feet, void-black pupils, super pale skin, and an exhausted glare—she looked like a girl straight out of a horror movie. It made complete sense that a normal shopkeeper would jump out of her skin if she suddenly looked down and saw her.
"I'm sorry," B said politely, holding out the yellow paper. "I didn't mean to startle you."
The baker woman was leaning heavily against the back wall, her hands clutched over her massive chest, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Her stern expression had completely melted away, replaced by a look of profound embarrassment.
She looked at the small, frail girl holding out the paper, then down at the tray overflowing with cream buns and white bread.
"I-I... oh my goodness!" The woman gasped, her cheeks turning bright red. She quickly slammed the phone receiver back onto its base and rushed forward, bowing repeatedly over the counter. "I am so sorry! I am so, so sorry, little girl! I was... I was spaced out and thought you were... well, I mistook you for something else entirely! Please forgive me!"
She reached out and gently took the yellow paper back, quickly shoving it deep into her apron pocket as if trying to hide it.
B tilted her soft head to the side, her long white hair shifting over her shoulder. "Mistook me for what?"
"Ah! Nothing! Just... an old habit from... um, pest control!" the baker woman stammered, sweating nervously. She cleared her throat loudly, trying to regain her professional posture. "Ahem! Anyway, welcome to Oakhaven Fresh Bakes! Let me... let me tally up your bread right away!"
B didn't push the matter further. She didn't care what the baker woman mistook her for, as long as she got her pastries.
She pushed the heavy wooden tray forward onto the counter. "I want to buy all of these, please. Especially the cream ones."
"Of course, right away!" The baker woman said quickly, her hands moving at high speed as she wrapped each loaf and pastry in clean brown wax paper. "Let's see... two white loaves, three vanilla cream buns, two chocolate rolls, and a custard pastry..."
She tapped the numbers into a small metal register on the side.
"That will be a total of 27 Vicks, little miss," the baker woman said, giving her an apologetic, friendly smile.
B reached into the small pocket of her short black pants, pulled out two 10-Vick notes and a 10-Vick note change from earlier, and handed over exactly 27 Vicks.
The baker woman took the money, but before handing over the big paper bag of bread, she reached into a glass jar beside the register, pulled out a large, freshly baked chocolate chip cookie wrapped in plastic, and dropped it into B's bag.
"Here," the baker woman said softly, bowing her head slightly. "A little extra on the house. As a sincere apology for throwing paper at your face earlier."
B's eyes lit up slightly. Free food was the best kind of food.
"Thank you very much," B said, taking the warm, heavy paper bag into her arms.
She turned around and began to walk toward the exit, her long white dress trailing behind her.
Just as her hand reached out to push open the glass door, the baker woman called out from behind the counter.
"Um, excuse me, little girl?"
B paused, turning her head back to look at the tall cashier. "Yes?"
"I... I haven't seen you around the village before," the baker woman said, her sharp eyes studying B's strange white hair and dark pupils with quiet curiosity. "Are you visiting family in Oakhaven?"
"No," B replied simply in her clear, childish voice. "I work here now. I'm the new grave keeper at Blackwood Cemetery."
Without waiting for a response, B pushed open the glass door, the brass bell chiming pleasantly above her head as she stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight.
Ring-ring!
Behind the counter, the tall baker woman froze completely solid. Her hands stayed hovering over the cash register, her mouth slightly open, a blank look taking over her face.
"Eh...?" the baker woman muttered softly to the empty shop. "Blackwood... Grave keeper...?"
Outside on the quiet stone street, B was completely unconcerned with the baker woman's confusion.
She reached her small hand into the brown paper bag, pulled out one of the soft vanilla-cream buns, and peeled back the wax paper wrapping.
She took a big bite.
Nom.
The pastry was amazingly soft, and the sweet, cold vanilla cream burst into her mouth, rich and delicious.
A tiny, satisfied hum escaped B's throat. She puffed out her pale cheeks, chewing happily like a little chipmunk as she walked down the lane. In her old life, a sweet pastry like this was something she could only stare at through shop windows while rushing to catch the late-night train home. Now, she could eat one whenever she wanted.
"So good..." B mumbled around a mouthful of cream, her long white hair swishing behind her boots as she turned the next corner.
Ahead of her on the left side of the street, hanging over a neat wooden storefront, was a bright blue sign with a pair of scissors painted on the front.
Mrs. Clara’s clothing shop was right in front of her. With 172 Vicks still tucked safely in her pocket and a bag full of fresh pastries in her arm, B walked toward the door, ready to buy herself some comfortable clothes and finally get back to her couch.
Author's Note
EliteToeCollector
Thanks for reading!