HFfC: CH 5: Porridge, Prejudice, and a Plan

A scent—warm, savory, and deeply comforting—was the first thing to pierce the morning haze in Zero's mind. It wasn't the sharp, acidic aroma of coffee, but something softer, laced with ginger and toasted sesame. It smelled like a childhood he'd never had. He groaned, rolling over in the impossibly comfortable bed, the crisp sheets cool against his skin. From downstairs, a faint, rhythmic clink-clank of a spoon against ceramic underscored the quiet hum of the loft.

Groggy and only half-awake, Zero pushed himself upright. He ran a hand through his long, tangled black hair and padded out of the bedroom, his bare feet silent on the polished pine floor.

The main room was already filled with soft morning light filtering through the large windows. And in the center of it all, standing in the kitchen alcove with an air of practiced command, was Soma. He was already dressed in a clean t-shirt and apron, his wild red hair catching the light like a spark of fire. He moved with an energy that felt almost unfairly vibrant for this early in the morning, humming a tune that Zero vaguely recognized from a past life.

Soma glanced over as Zero emerged, his grin immediate and bright. "Ahh, good morning, boss! Or should I say, Sleeping Beauty?" he chirped, turning from the pot he was stirring. "Just in time. I made you some porridge with quail eggs."

He deftly ladled a steaming, fragrant serving into a deep ceramic bowl, the movements fluid and economical. The porridge was a gentle off-white, studded with finely chopped scallions and perfectly soft-boiled quail eggs. He set it on the large dining table with a soft thunk.

Zero eyed the bowl with a healthy dose of suspicion, pulling out a chair and sinking into it. "This one isn't going to blast my pajamas into an alternate dimension, is it?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep. "I'm quite fond of this pair. They have little arcane symbols on them."

Soma leaned against the counter, crossing his arms with a confident smirk. "Of course not. I already tweaked the recipe. Toned down the 'culinary enlightenment' factor by a few celestial degrees. It's just a damn good breakfast now. Go on, try it."

Hesitantly, Zero picked up the spoon. The moment the first mouthful touched his tongue, the sensation returned. It wasn't an explosive, clothes-shredding revelation this time, but a slow, creeping warmth that spread from his chest outward. It was the taste of a distant, faded memory—a quiet morning in a sunlit kitchen, the feeling of being cared for, a sense of belonging that was both completely alien and deeply familiar. He blinked, the phantom feeling so real it was almost jarring.

He looked down. His pajamas, little glowing runes and all, were still perfectly intact. A genuine sigh of relief escaped him. "Well, at least my clothes are safe."

"See? That's good then," Soma said cheerfully. "Now I have a baseline. I'll hold off just enough so it doesn't rip any clothes off our future customers."

Zero paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. He slowly lowered it. "...Wait. You weren't sure it wouldn't rip my clothes off?"

Soma's grin turned mischievous. "Well, not at first, no. It's all theoretical until you have a practical test, right? But now I know! So, good data." He winked. "Thanks for being the guinea pig, boss."

Before Zero could retort, Soma picked up the large pot of porridge and headed for the stairs leading down to the café floor below. "Gotta get this downstairs before our first customer arrives!"

Zero just shook his head, a small, tired smile playing on his lips as he went back to eating. The porridge was, infuriatingly, the best thing he had ever tasted. A moment later, from the floor below, Soma's voice echoed up the stairwell.

"Zero! It's almost eight. Can I flip the sign and open the café?"

Zero swallowed another mouthful, the warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, go for it!" he shouted back. "I'll take a bath, and after I'm done, I'll come down and help!"

The only reply was the distant, cheerful jingle of the bell on the front door, followed by the soft click of the lock being turned. The day had officially begun.

Soma, buzzing with an energy that the quiet café couldn't contain, was a whirlwind of productivity. Finding himself with nothing to do, he did everything. He swept the wooden floors until they shone, wiped down the already-clean counters, and polished every chair and table with a vigor that bordered on obsessive. The café gleamed under his care, a silent, sunlit stage waiting for its actors.

At nine o'clock sharp, the soft thud of footsteps descended the stairs. Zero appeared, looking refreshed and wearing a crisp black apron over his simple clothes, a stark contrast to Soma's practical white one. He struck a pose at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on his hip.

"So, what do you think?" Zero asked, a theatrical flair in his voice. "Do I look like a professional barista? Mysterious, skilled, ready to judge your unnecessarily complex coffee order?"

Soma paused his polishing and leaned on his broom, giving Zero a slow, critical look. "More like a Starbucks barista," he declared. "Specifically, the one in an airport. The one who's seen too much, is powered by pure spite, and asks for your name only to spell it with four extra consonants."

Zero clutched his chest, feigning a mortal wound. "Ah, you wound me! Not only a fast-food coffee shop, but the one languishing in the purgatory of international travel!"

Thwap. Soma lightly slapped Zero's arm with the towel he kept tucked in his apron. "Stop playing theatre and make yourself useful."

Zero chuckled, abandoning his dramatic pose as he walked behind the long bar, taking his place at his coffee station. "Speaking of which," he said, his tone shifting as he began arranging cups, "Cecil's note implied I can create another clone. I was thinking we could try it tonight."

Soma's cheerful demeanor sobered slightly. "Didn't Cecil also say you need training to manage more than one? That your mind could 'fracture'?"

"You're right," Zero conceded, his movements slowing. "Maybe I should train now, since there are no customers..."

"Let's just wait," Soma said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Master walking with two legs before you try running with three. Let's get through day one first."

Zero nodded, respecting the clone's—his own—logic. They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle clinking of Zero's cups and Soma's continued, quiet cleaning. Several minutes passed, the sunlight creeping further across the floor.

Ding!

The bell on the front door chimed, sharp and clear in the stillness. It was Linda and Henry, the elderly dwarf couple from the locksmith shop. Linda offered a warm smile, while Henry just looked vaguely grumpy to be anywhere.

"Welcome!" Zero called out from behind the counter, a genuinely bright smile on his face.

"Good morning, dear," Linda said, her voice raspy but kind. "We saw the sign was flipped. Thought we'd take you up on that offer for breakfast."

"Of course," Zero said warmly. "I'm glad you came. Just so you know how it works here, Soma will be handling all the food," he gestured with his head toward the red-haired clone, "and I'll be taking care of all the beverages. So, what can I get you to drink?"

Henry grunted from behind his wife. "Something strong."

Linda shot him a look and gently slapped his shoulder. "Henry, no alcoholic drinks in the morning. You'll be napping on the anvil by noon." She turned back to Zero, a bit helpless. "I've never been in this kind of establishment, dear. It all smells lovely, but I wouldn't know what to choose. Can you recommend something?"

Zero leaned forward, his expression becoming both animated and reassuring as he explained the intricacies of coffee—the dark, bitter notes of a strong brew versus the lighter, more acidic flavors of a different roast. He touched on the soothing qualities of herbal teas and the rich sweetness of hot chocolate.

As he spoke, Soma stepped forward from the kitchen. "Zero, why don't you pick something that will pair nicely with the breakfast menu?"

Linda blinked. "Oh, but we haven't chosen our food yet."

Soma grinned, a spark of showmanship in his eyes. "That's what's different about Café LeBlanc, ma'am. To keep things exciting, we have a different set menu every single day. For our grand opening breakfast, I've already prepared a congee with soft-boiled quail eggs and savory spices."

He disappeared for a moment and returned with two steaming bowls, placing them gently on the table Linda and Henry had chosen. The aroma alone was intoxicating. Henry eyed his bowl with deep skepticism, while Linda looked utterly enchanted.

Henry took the first bite, a small, grudging spoonful. He chewed slowly, his expression unchanging. Then he stopped. His eyes, which had been narrowed in suspicion, widened slightly. He looked down at the spoon in his hand as if it had betrayed him, then back at the bowl. He took another bite, larger this time, and a low, involuntary sound of approval rumbled in his chest.

Linda's reaction was more immediate. A single taste and her eyes misted over. She set her spoon down gently, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Oh, my..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "This... this tastes like my grandmother's winter stew. The one she'd make after the first snowfall. I haven't tasted anything like this in sixty years." She looked at Soma, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Young man, this isn't just food. This is a memory."

Henry cleared his throat, trying to maintain his gruff exterior. "It's alright," he mumbled, though he was already halfway through his bowl. From a man like him, it was the highest compliment imaginable.

Zero moved with a quiet grace, a gentle smile on his face as he prepared the drinks. For Linda, whose warmth reminded him of a cozy hearth, he brewed a fragrant silver-needle tea, its pale golden liquid steaming delicately in a fine porcelain cup. For Henry, the gruff but solid man of steel and stone, he prepared a dark, potent coffee using a siphon brewer, the process a small, fascinating piece of science that resulted in a cup of brew as black and uncompromising as the dwarf himself.

He placed the drinks on their table. "A silver-needle tea for you, ma'am," he said to Linda. "And a black siphon coffee for you, sir. No sugar, no cream."

Henry just grunted, but his eyes followed the dark liquid with an appreciative gleam. Linda, however, beamed. "Oh, it's just wonderful, dear. The whole place is. It's so peaceful." She took a delicate sip of her tea and sighed contentedly. As she did, Henry, thinking no one was watching, reached over and subtly pushed a stray crumb from the edge of her saucer with his thick finger, his expression never changing. It was a small, gruff act of care.

"So," Linda said, her eyes sparkling, "how much do we owe you for this extraordinary meal and these lovely drinks, dear?"

"Oh, it's on the house," Zero said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Please, think of it as a welcome gift. You're our first customers, after all."

SLAM!

A heavy leather pouch landed on the counter with a loud thud, making Zero jump. Henry stood before him, his face set like granite. In the pouch were several large, metallic coins. "That's not how you do business, boy," the dwarf growled, his voice a low rumble. "Good work deserves fair pay. Don't insult us by offering charity." He turned abruptly. "Now take the money. Let's go, Linda. This place is getting stuffy."

Before a stunned Zero could respond, Henry took his wife's arm—gently, despite his gruff demeanor—and led her out of the café. Ding, went the bell as the door opened and closed, leaving a profound silence in their wake.

Soma leaned out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. "Well," he said with a wry grin, "that's one way to pay. I think he liked you."

Zero stared at the pouch of money on the counter. Then, a slow, brilliant grin spread across his face. His eyes gleamed. "Soma, look," he whispered, his voice filled with a giddy, infectious joy. "Our first earnings."

He grabbed Soma's hands, pulling the surprised clone from the kitchen and into a spontaneous, circling dance in the middle of the café floor. Zero, laughing freely, spun them both around. "We did it! We actually did it!"

Soma laughed along with him, caught up in the pure, unadulterated delight. "Alright, alright, you big weirdo! Put our first earnings away before you drop them!"

Zero reluctantly stopped dancing and picked up the pouch. He poured the contents into his palm: three heavy, silver coins, each stamped with the profile of a sun and the number '10'. Ten Sol. Thirty Sol in total. He walked over to the old-fashioned cash register, the one that doubled as the Gacha machine, and with a sense of ceremony, he dropped the coins into the slot.

They vanished instantly. Not with a clatter, but with a soft shimmer of light. The drawer didn't open. The coins were just... gone.

"Ahh! My first earnings!" Zero screamed, clutching his head in mock despair.

Just then, the small screen on the register lit up with a soft ding.

[+30 Gacha Points Added]
[Current Balance: 30]

Zero froze. He stared at the screen, his panic melting away into dawning comprehension. The Gacha. The points. He'd been so caught up in the reality of his new life—the food, the neighbors, the simple joy of a curse-free morning—that he'd completely forgotten about the system humming just beneath the surface.

"Oh," he breathed, a slow smile returning to his face. "So that's how you get the points." One Sol for one point. It was a direct conversion. His new life and his strange, divine power were linked by the simple act of commerce.

This new fact landed in their shared consciousness with the weight of a divine revelation. The path forward, which had been a hazy, undefined stretch of "living a new life," suddenly snapped into sharp focus. A progress bar had appeared in their world. A clear, quantifiable goal.

"Let's gooo!" Soma pumped a fist in the air, his eyes blazing with the familiar fire of a gamer who just discovered the fastest way to grind. "Gacha here we come! I want to see what other crazy characters we can pull!"

Zero mirrored Soma's excitement, throwing his hands up with a whoop. "Wooooo! Ultimate power, here we—wait." He froze mid-cheer, his brain catching up to the logistics. "We don't have a price list. And I have no idea what thirty Sol is actually worth. Is that a lot? A little? Is it enough for a candy bar or a down payment on a small castle?"

Soma's celebratory pose deflated. "Oh. Yeah." He scratched his cheek, the giddiness draining from his face. "Right. I guess we both got a little caught up in the excitement."

He began to pace, tapping a finger against his chin. Then, an idea lit up his face. "Okay, new plan! How about we go around town? You know, do a little recon. This is basically magitech New York City! Aren't you curious what their Times Square looks like? Do they have giant rune-screens advertising enchanted potions?"

"Naahh," Zero said with a dismissive shrug, a phantom memory of sun and salt water surfacing from his past life. "As an LA resident, I'll always take the beach over a crowded city square. We can't exactly go surfing in this 'new' New York."

"Fine, fine, beach bum," Soma shot back. "Then let's at least grab a book on local commerce or a city map. On the way, we can take a detour to a few other cafés. See their pricing, check out their menus. Market research!"

"Good idea," Zero agreed, nodding. "But I think it will be better if you're the one doing it."

Soma was about to protest when Zero held up a hand, his expression turning serious. "It's not that I don't want to go with you," he said calmly, his voice losing its playful edge. "But we need someone to hold down the fort here. And more importantly... if I go outside, we still don't know what kind of trouble I'll run into. I could potentially get kicked out of other cafés before I even get a look at the menu. It's not smart for an Archdemon to go asking for the price of a latte in a city that's afraid of them."

Soma sighed, the logic undeniable. The injustice of it hung in the air, but he was pragmatic enough to see the truth in Zero's words. "Okay," he conceded, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're right." He immediately perked back up, pointing a stern finger at his original self. "Just make sure if anyone else comes in, you plate the congee right. A sprinkle of scallions in the center and exactly three quail eggs. Three. Got it?"

Zero chuckled, gently pushing Soma toward the front door. "Okay, okay, I got it, Chef. Don't worry, I won't ruin your culinary masterpiece."

With a final, confident nod, Soma turned and walked out into the world to do their intelligence gathering. The bell above the door chimed, its ding signaling the start of their first real operation. Zero was left alone once more, the quiet café his to command.

…

Soma pulled on a simple, dark work jacket he found in the closet, something durable and anonymous. He stepped out of the warm, comforting aroma of LeBlanc and into the alley. The moment he reached the main thoroughfare, the city hit him like a physical force.

The quiet sanctuary of their little side street gave way to a cacophony of life. The architecture was a dizzying mix of old-world stone and intricate ironwork, with buildings that clawed at the sky like Victorian titans. But instead of simple glass, many windows were enchanted, shimmering with passive spells, and glowing runes flickered like neon signs on the sides of shops, advertising everything from "Glimmer-weave Tailors" to "Griselda's Guaranteed Potions." The vibe was uncanny; it was the gritty, energetic, steam-billowing 1980s New York he'd only ever seen in old movies, a world of ambition and concrete canyons, but reimagined through a lens of magic.

Transportation was a chaotic symphony of the old and the new. Ornate carriages, drawn by creatures both familiar and bizarre—sturdy horses, broad-shouldered bulls, and even a placid, six-legged reptilian beast that blinked slowly as it pulled a cart of vegetables—clattered over the cobblestones. Weaving between them were automobiles that looked like they'd rolled out of the 1920s, with brass headlamps and running boards. But no smoke plumed from their rears. Instead, a network of glowing copper pipes ran along their chassis, humming with a soft, magical thrum—a perfect, impossible blend of antique tech and arcane power.

Soma felt a wave of sensory overload wash over him. Café LeBlanc was tucked away in a quiet corner of this sprawling, roaring beast of a city. Out here, the sheer scale of it was overwhelming. He took a deep breath, calming the frantic buzz in his mind. Focus. Information. His goal was simple: find out where and what kind of world they were now living in. He spotted a man in a simple tunic hurrying past and stepped into his path.

"Hey, excuse me," Soma called out. "Do you know where the library is?"

The man, a harried-looking human with a leather satchel, paused. "A library? To buy a book, or to read on-site?"

Soma blinked. "Is there a difference?"

"Of course," the man said, adjusting his bag. "If you want to buy, I can point you to a dozen good bookstores. But if you want to read, and you want the biggest selection, you'll need a branch of the Royal Library."

"The Royal Library would be suited for me, I think," Soma replied.

The man gave him a quick, efficient set of directions, pointing down the wide avenue. "Just head that way, past the Golem Workers' Union hall, and you'll see the marble steps. Can't miss it."

"Thanks," Soma said gratefully.

As he walked, Soma's thoughts drifted. 'The Royal Library sounds promising. If I just wanted a bookstore... my neighbor is a bookstore.' He pictured the slammed door, the barked insult. 'Though I doubt he would have opened up.' A grim certainty settled in his mind. 'Who am I kidding? He slammed the door because he saw Zero's horns. It's definitely because he's a demon.'

That thought became a filter through which he now saw the city. On the way to the library, the world's casual cruelty came into sharp focus. He saw an elven woman in fine clothes wrinkle her nose and pull her velvet skirts aside as a demon street-sweeper passed, the demon keeping his eyes fixed on the ground as if apologizing for his own existence. He passed a bakery with a freshly painted sign hanging by the main entrance: "Good Folk Welcome," and a smaller, cruder sign pointing to the back alley that simply read, "Deliveries and Taintedkind."

Further on, he watched a human mother physically pull her young son behind her as a demon family—a father holding his young daughter's hand—walked by, their own quiet conversation ceasing as they endured the silent, public judgment. They were seen as something less than the ground they all walked on, a stain on the beautiful, magical city. And Soma, a human-looking clone born from demon blood, felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. This wasn't just a new life; it was a battlefield, and their cozy little café was the only safe place in it.

The directions led Soma to a wide, open plaza, and there, dominating the skyline, was a building so grand it made him stop in his tracks. It was a masterpiece of white marble and polished granite, with towering columns and a facade accented with intricate gold leaf that gleamed in the afternoon sun. High above, near the impossibly tall windows of the upper floors, two demons were diligently wiping the glass, standing on floating stone platforms that hovered silently in the air. They worked with a practiced, steady rhythm, oblivious to the grandeur beneath them.

All Soma could say, his voice a breathy whisper, was, "Wooww..." He was utterly in awe, a small figure craning his neck to take in the sheer scale and opulence of it all.

"You're new here, huh?"

The voice was smooth and calm, appearing so suddenly beside him that Soma flinched. He turned to see a tall, slender elf in an impeccably tailored dark suit, his silver hair neatly combed back. The elf wasn't looking at him with suspicion, but with a gentle, knowing amusement in his eyes.

"Ah," Soma said, startled. "Yeah, I'm new. To the city."

The suited man smiled, a polite and welcoming expression. "Well then, welcome to the Royal Library, Evercrest branch. It can be a bit imposing from the outside. Come, I'll show you around."

He gestured toward the massive bronze doors. Soma hesitated. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

The elf gave a soft chuckle, a flicker of embarrassment in his professional demeanor. "Ah, forgive me. A terrible habit of mine. I'm Belkas," he said, giving a slight bow of his head. "I'm the director of this branch."

Soma's eyes widened. A director. "Oh! Director, I'm so sorry for my rude way of speaking."

"No worries at all," Belkas said, his warmth seeming entirely genuine. "I was about to head in myself when I saw the look on your face. I must admit, I love guiding newcomers. It reminds me of the magic of seeing it for the first time. Come, I'll help you in any way I can."

Soma, still a bit stunned, could only nod and follow as the director led him toward the entrance. As they walked through the towering doors and into the vast, hushed interior of the library, a new thought, cold and sharp, cut through Soma's awe.

'This is a complete 180-degree difference from what Zero experienced,' he thought, his eyes scanning the cathedral-like space. He was being personally welcomed by the director of one of the city's most important institutions. But the welcome wasn't for him. It was for the human face he wore. 'If I were Zero right now, with his horns and his Taintedkind status, would this powerful man even look at me? Or would he just see another demon to be ignored?' The answer felt heavy and obvious. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him, that Director Belkas would have never approached him at all.