In the heart of the grand Kingdom of Avarion, a jewel of architecture nestled between two neighboring Kingdoms, stood a modest building that radiated a certain warmth despite its simplicity.
On one corner of a main street, hidden between fancier shops, there was a small biscuit store.
A worn wooden sign above its old door, with faded carvings, read: "Cookies of Happiness." Its name stood in stark contrast to the dim, sleepy atmosphere inside that early morning.
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Behind the spotless wooden counter, a man lay sound asleep. His long, jet-black hair was messy, sticking to his furrowed forehead.
His face looked harsh, his jaw clenched tight, and cold sweat covered his skin, as if he was wrestling with a nightmare so vivid it almost felt real.
All around him, the sweet scent of baked flour and butter hung in the air. A smell that should have been comforting, yet felt empty, unable to pierce the fog of unease that shrouded him.
In his sleep, he was trapped in a suffocating memory, a nightmare that time had never managed to erase.
The girl's bright red hair fanned out, a sharp contrast to her pale, bloodless skin. Her eyes, once so full of life, were now dull, with a dark purplish hue betraying unbearable pain.
She was dying.
Blood seeped from a wound in her abdomen, staining the man's uniform deep crimson.
Every breath she took sounded like a desperate struggle, each gasp a battle against the inevitable.
They were deep in a dark forest, surrounded by towering trees that reached over twenty meters high. The remnants of battle still hung thick in the air, the sharp smell of blood filling every breath.
"Desmond… let me go," the girl whispered weakly, her voice so faint it was almost lost to the wind, yet it echoed sharply in Desmond's mind.
"I… can't… hold on… anymore…"
Desmond frantically shook his head, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the dirt and blood on his cheeks.
"No! Don't say that! We're going to make it! We're going to go home together!"
The girl gave him a faint, heartbreaking smile.
Her cold fingers rose slowly, brushing Desmond's cheek. "I love you, Desmond. More than anything in this world."
A dry cough racked her frail body, blood bubbling from the corner of her lips.
"Remember our dream? The cookie shop… after this dangerous expedition is over… we were going to build it together…" Her voice grew weaker and weaker, like a candle's flame on the verge of dying out.
"It would be the Cookies Shop of Happiness… a place where people could forget their sorrows…" She smiled.
Desmond grasped her hand tightly, trying to pour his warmth into her rapidly cooling skin.
"We'll do it! We'll build it! I promise you!"
She coughed again, her breathing ragged. Her purplish eyes gazed at Desmond with deep love and a sorrow so profound it felt like it could swallow him whole.
"Listen to my last words… Desmond…" she wheezed, her breath barely hanging on. "Forget me… find new happiness… never live in my shadow…"
"Even if I die… I want you to live, Desmond… Don't let my death chain your heart forever."
"No! Don't leave me… please! Don't leave me alone…!"
"No! No! No!" Desmond shouted inside his nightmare, his voice hoarse with desperation. He pulled her body closer, as if he could hold her soul inside him and keep it from slipping away.
But her body grew colder, lighter, as if her spirit had already drifted far beyond his reach.
Her dark purple eyes lost their light, her hand fell limp from his cheek.
Desmond kept screaming, "No! No!" in his sleep. He begged for the nightmare to end, praying he could turn back time and rewrite the cruel fate that had stolen his love.
The pain felt so raw, as if the wound in his heart had been torn open all over again.
Suddenly, the soft chime of the bell above the shop door cut through the morning stillness, yanking Desmond back into consciousness. He jerked awake, eyes wide, breathing heavily.
Cold sweat soaked his entire body. He glanced around, taking several seconds to realize he was in his shop, not that dark, terrible forest.
The warm smell of cookies should have filled his senses, but all he could smell was the metallic scent of blood that lingered stubbornly in his memory.
Standing in the doorway was a girl. No, not a girl, a woman.
Her dark purple hair was neatly tied back, and a pair of elegant glasses perched perfectly on her refined nose.
She was still stunningly beautiful, though the faint lines at the corners of her eyes betrayed that she was already in her forties.
Her skin was flawless, her lips thin, and her sharp eyes radiated intelligence and authority.
She looked polished and formidable, wearing a dark traveling cloak that was both luxurious and practical. In her hand, she held a slim staff intricately carved with mysterious patterns.
"So, you really are here, Death Dice," the woman said, her voice deep but gentle, tinged with a mix of relief and frustration.
Her eyes bored into Desmond, studying him as if reading the very depths of his soul. "I've been searching for you for over a year. Where did you disappear to? I sent my best scouts across the entire continent just to found you."
Hearing the name "Death Dice" made Desmond's entire body stiffen. His heart pounded violently in his chest. His pale face hardened, shifting into an expression as cold as stone.
He knew exactly who this woman was. He knew her all too well. The woman before him was Aurora, leader of the White Crow mercenary organization—the largest and most feared mercenary group in the Kingdom of Avarion.
The place he once called home. The place that had sent him on the dangerous expedition that ended up taking his beloved from him.
"Don't call me by that name," Desmond growled, his voice low, almost a whisper, but every syllable laced with warning.
His eyes locked with Aurora's, a flash of long-buried rage flickering deep within them.
That name was a curse, a cruel reminder of a past he desperately wanted to bury.
Aurora raised an eyebrow, carefully noting the change in Desmond's demeanor. A thin, almost imperceptible smile curled on her lips.
"All right, all right. I understand. Forgive me, Desmond." She used his real name, a name that felt so much softer, a name he had nearly forgotten. "You were always sensitive about that."
Aurora stepped inside the shop, her gaze sweeping over the surroundings with quiet curiosity.
Her eyes fell on the rows of neatly arranged biscuits in the display, though there weren't many of them.
She caught a faint whiff of their aroma as she approached the counter, stopping directly in front of Desmond, who stood frozen.
"So, this is your little 'hideout'?" Aurora picked up a heart-shaped cookie from the tray in front of her. It looked surprisingly cute.
"After that disastrous expedition, you just disappeared without a trace. I've been pulling my hair out trying to find you. You know you're one of my most valuable assets. So many important missions have been left hanging because of you."
She popped the cookie into her mouth, started chewing, and her expression changed instantly.
Her eyes went wide, and she choked, coughing violently as her face turned bright red.
"Cough! Cough! What is this?! It's so… salty!" She spat the crumbled biscuit into her hand, staring at it with disgust. "Is this a cookie? Or a lump of rock dipped in salt?!"
Desmond looked at her with a flat, deadpan stare. "I never said I could bake good cookies. But I think they taste fine. Anyway, it's my lover's recipe."
His voice was cold, completely indifferent to Aurora's harsh criticism. He knew he had no talent for baking. Especially cookies.
He only baked because it was his last promise to his beloved. A bitter, painful irony.
Aurora was still coughing, swallowing hard to clear the salty taste. "Gods… I almost died from that! No wonder this shop is empty. How have you survived selling biscuits like these?"
She shook her head, then fixed Desmond with a sharp, serious gaze. "Anyway, forget your salty rocks. I didn't come here to buy your… culinary disasters. I have a job offer for you."
Suddenly, a clear, sweet voice with a playful tease echoed inside Desmond's mind.
The voice spoke directly to him, like a girl whispering right beside his ear.
"Your leader… she's still so beautiful, isn't she, Desmond?"
Desmond jolted.
Before he could stop himself, he blurted the words out loud, his voice slightly hoarse, eyes still locked on Aurora. "Yes, she's still very beautiful."
Aurora, who had been waiting for his answer about the job offer, froze at his sudden compliment.
Her face, which had been stern moments before, flushed slightly, a surprised and embarrassed look flashing across her features. She stared at Desmond, clearly confused.
"W-what? What do you mean by that? Why are you suddenly complimenting me?" she stammered, a mix of surprise and a hint of shyness on her face.
Desmond was never the type to give compliments or say sweet words. He had always been cold, introvert, and intensely focused on his missions.
Desmond sighed deeply, realizing he had spoken out loud. His eyes met Aurora's with a serious look, though a trace of pain lingered in their depths.
"I wasn't talking to you. I was speaking… to Clara."
The moment he said the name, Aurora's expression changed completely. The shy smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of pure shock as horror slowly dawned on her face.
Her eyes widened, lips parted as if words failed her, her body trembling slightly. Her complexion turned deathly pale, as if the blood had drained from her face.
She stared at Desmond with wide, disbelieving eyes, filled with a confusion that teetered on the edge of terror.
"Clara…? Haha what… what are you talking about, Desmond?" Her voice cracked, barely audible.
Had Desmond gone insane? Or… was there something far more sinister happening here? A storm of fear and bewilderment swirled around Aurora, as if she'd just heard the name of a ghost she dreaded most.
What started as a simple visit to deliver a job offer had twisted into something far darker and more mysterious.
"Desmond…?"