The confrontation with Julian had left a cold spot in the café that even the Hearth-Warming Aura struggled to melt. Leo was scrubbing the already-spotless counter, the rhythmic motion the only thing keeping his thoughts from circling the drain of Julian's words.
A better way. A more efficient way. The offer felt like a betrayal of everything the Grind had become.
The bell chimed, a hesitant, soft sound. A woman stood just inside the doorway, wringing her flour-dusted hands. She was Maeve, who ran the struggling bakery down the street, "The Rising Crust." Leo had seen the "For Lease" sign go up in her window a few days ago.
Her usual warm, yeasty scent was buried under a cloud of sharp, anxious sweat. She didn't move to a table. She just stood there, her shoulders slumped, as if the air itself was too heavy to move through.
"Leo?" she said, her voice thin. "I... I don't know who else to ask."
He set his rag down. "What's wrong, Maeve?"
"It's over," she whispered, the words barely audible. "The rent... the suppliers... I can't..." A single tear traced a path through the flour on her cheek. "I saw what you did here. How you turned it around. I was hoping... for a miracle, I suppose." She gave a weak, hopeless laugh.
Her despair was a tangible chill in the room, a void that threatened to swallow the warmth. Leo felt a familiar pull, the same instinct that had made him give Madame Evangeline that cup of tea. But this was bigger than a single drink.
—
As he looked at her, the System interface bloomed in his vision. But it wasn't a quest or a warning. A new, complex glyph pulsed gently at the edge of the UI, one he'd never seen before. It looked like a single seed, from which a network of fine roots spread.
[NEW PROTOCOL DETECTED: FRANCHISE NETWORK.]
[INITIATE SYSTEM SEED TRANSFER TO TARGET: MAEVE?]
The sensation wasn't of giving something away. It was the opposite. It felt like breaking off a piece of the Hearth-Warming Aura itself, a spark of the foundational magic that powered his own shop, and offering it to her. It felt like sharing a flame, not losing one.
He didn't hesitate. "Yes."
—
Maeve flinched, her eyes widening. "What was that? It's warm.
"It's a gift," Leo said softly. "From my grandfather. It's a guide. It'll help you find your way."
He watched as her gaze went distant. A soft, golden light, fainter than his own System's glow, flickered at the corner of her eye. Her expression shifted from despair to confusion, then to a dawning wonder.
"It's... a book," she murmured, her hand rising to touch nothing. "A recipe journal. But the pages are blank." She looked at Leo, a fragile hope in her eyes. "What do I do?"
"Listen to it," he said.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the invisible text. A small, genuine smile touched her lips for the first time. "It says... `["Bake a Loaf that Tastes of Patience."]`"
She opened her eyes, and the crushing weight of her failure seemed to have lifted, replaced by the focused intensity of a new challenge. "Patience," she repeated, nodding to herself. "I can do that. I think I know how."
She turned and left, her steps quicker, her posture straighter. The chill of her despair was gone, replaced by the quiet, determined energy of a craftswoman with a purpose.
Leo watched her go. The spark had been passed. The magic, the real magic, was no longer contained within these four walls. It was spreading.