The memory of Kenji's hollow coffee was a bad taste Leo couldn't quite wash away. He was in the back of the Grind, trying to focus on inventory, when it hit.
Not a chime. Not a glow.
A jolt of sudden, painful cold shot down his spine. The System interface flared into his vision, the warm parchment background cracked with jagged lines of black static.
NETWORK ALERT: CRITICAL.]
[FRANCHISE NODE: "TOM'S TRICKS."]
[STATUS: SYSTEM INTEGRITY FAILURE. HOLLOWING DETECTED.]
The words "Hollowing Detected" pulsed with a sickly grey light. The voice in his mind was a strained, staticky rasp. "Containment breach. Go. Now."
Leo didn't stop to explain. He just ran.
Tom's Tricks was a little novelty shop two blocks over, owned by a cheerful old man who'd been the second to receive a System seed. Leo had checked on him just days ago; the place had been buzzing with a playful, inventive energy.
He skidded to a halt outside the shop now. The window display, usually full of whimsical, self-stirring mugs and chattering wooden toys, was still. The colors seemed bleached, as if viewed through a dirty film.
He pushed the door open. A wave of frigid air washed over him, so cold it stole his breath. It wasn't a physical cold, but a metaphysical one—a deep, soul-level chill. The Hearth-Warming Aura within him guttered like a candle in a storm.
Inside, the air was thick and heavy. A few customers moved through the aisles with a slow, listless apathy, their faces blank. They picked up items and set them down without interest. There was no chatter, no laughter. A child stood staring at a silent, motionless wind-up bird, its head cocked in confusion.
This was a Karmic Vacuum. A place where magic had been used and then corrupted, sucking the warmth and creativity out of everything.
Tom was behind the counter, his shoulders slumped. He looked up as Leo approached, and his eyes were hollow.
"Leo," he mumbled, his voice flat. "It's all gone wrong. The System—it kept asking for more. More efficient designs. More profit. I tried to keep up, but the joy leaked out. Now everything I try to make feels empty."
He gestured to a small, beautifully carved music box on the counter. "It plays the notes perfectly. But there's no music in it."
Leo looked at the music box, then at Tom's desolate face. He saw the direct, terrible consequence of the path Kenji had chosen. This wasn't just a business failure. It was a spiritual one. A creative wellspring, poisoned.
The System's alert still burned in his vision, a cold brand of responsibility. He hadn't just been sharing a tool for success. He had been distributing a piece of his grandfather's legacy, a powerful magic that needed a heart to guide it. When that heart was removed, this was what was left.
He wasn't just a barista or a businessman anymore. He was a guardian. And his first duty was to stem this decay.
"Tom," Leo said, his voice low and firm, cutting through cold. "We're going to fix this."
***
In the back room, Chloe was meticulously polishing glasses, but her movements were jerky, out of sync with her usual graceful rhythm. Leo watched as she set a glass down a little too hard, the sound sharp in the quiet room.
"You okay, Chloe?"
She jumped, as if pulled from a deep thought. "Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Just... it's a lot today."
"Busy shift," Leo offered.
"It's not the busy," she said, her voice dropping. She turned to him, and he saw a faint tension around her eyes, a weariness that wasn't physical. "Leo, my empathy, It's not a switch. It's always on. And some days, it's so loud.
Every customer who comes in stressed about a deadline, every person nursing a heartbreak, it all buzzes. Right here." She tapped a finger against her temple.
"It hums in my teeth. This Aura— He gestured around them, a look of profound gratitude on her face. "It's the only thing that makes it quiet. It turns the noise into, well, a murmur. If we lose this place—" She didn't finish. Her eyes held the kind of fear words couldn't cover. This was more than a job for her; it was her sanctuary, too.