We sat face-to-face at a simple round ebony table, its single leg anchored firmly into the ground. A modest café, the kind of quiet place I could easily find in my old world. Familiar. Comfortable. Almost nostalgic.

  We waited shortly in silence until a waiter had approached us. A simple boy, dressed in formal serving clothes with nothing particularly unique about him — except his fiery red hair, matching furred ears, and a long flame-colored tail swaying gently behind him.

  So beastfolk existed here too.

  Nice!

  I asked whether they served meats, to which he recommended lightly steamed chicken slices. Naturally, I ordered it alongside the largest mug of the coldest water available, filled to the brim with ice.

  Half the meal decided. All that remained was a small cup of hot coffee…

  …and an isekai croissant.

  The lady knight had a hard time choosing for herself, mostly because the bill would fall on me. After watching ten minutes of hesitation, I spared our suffering and ordered the same meal for her.

  She gave me a brief, surprised look but didn’t argue.

  We returned to silence until the food arrived.

  ° ° ° ( ? -?)

  The chicken gleamed with unnatural shades, spices unfamiliar to me. It came with toothpicks instead of forks, the reason was obvious.

  I took the first bite and instantly got hooked on it, the meat practically melted in my mouth. Warm. Tender. Perfectly cooked!

  The seasoning bloomed with mild heat, setting my tongue on mild fire — a very welcome sensation. Tiny grains of salt crystals cracked between my fangs, deepening the flavor.

  This is still an RPG novel, right?

  The water arrived exactly as requested. An obscenely huge mug — nearly half the size of my head — packed with ice. I drank deeply, cold rushing through, uplifting my spirit.

  And thanks to that ridiculous proportion I could drink as much as I wanted without worrying about running out!

  I glanced at Zarra who was consuming the goods exactly how'd you expect a high level knight would, with noble etiquette. Taking tiny bites of the already small meat slices with a faint smile at the corner of her lips.

  In the corner of my eye I noticed a faint glow, so I lifted the coffee cup out to satiate my curiosity. A faint red inscription glowed in the center of its saucer.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “I’ve never seen this before,” I said. “What is it?”

  With light taps, Zarra cleansed her lips with a cloth napkin, then answered calmly.

  “That is a fire rune. Heat flows through it continuously, keeping the coffee warm until you finish your meal.”

  “…That’s incredibly thoughtful,” I said honestly.

  A magic world has some really sweet gadgets!

  Silence returned, but it wasn't the awkward kind. It was more like... a peaceful meet-up.

  I finished the last bite of chicken and washed it down with the remaining water.

  I glanced at Zarra before beginning my ritual and noticed something strange. She was eating at my pace, or rather, my pace of eating was like a girl's... The usual culprit, whatever.

  I pushed the empty plate aside and carefully centered the coffee in front of me, preparing to enjoy both drink and pastry to their fullest potential.

  And what improves perfection?

  Gossip.

  I picked up the croissant and guided it toward my mouth. The first bite cracked loudly, revealing soft, buttery layers inside. The sour cherry jam was fighting an intense battle with the sweetness of the dough.

  I squeaked.

  Heaven...

  Without manners, or patience, I spoke mid-chew.

  “So… what’s the deal with the sad, depressed statue in the middle of town?”

  Zarra, unlike me, finished gulping her food before answering.

  “It is Yuna,” she said calmly. “The Blind Hero who once reigned supreme.”

  She paused slightly.

  “It is… a tragic legend.”

  I took a sip of coffee to balance the sweetness.

  “Ouch—ouch—ouch—hot, hot, hot!”

  "Ah, careful!" Zarra said immediately. "Take your time. Slow, and tiny sips only!"

  “Yesh ma’am…” I muttered with my tongue out as I fanned my mouth.

  Apparently, in order for me to understand the legend I had to grasp the magic rarity tiers first.

  “You know the elements?”

  “Fire, water, earth… and air?”

  “Air is an unusual name for it,” she corrected gently. “We call it wind. But yes.”

  She folded her hands together on the table.

  “And when two elements combine, they create fusions.”

  I blinked. “Fusions?”

  “For example: water and wind form ice. Earth and fire form magma. Each pairing produces a secondary element.”

  She began listing them calmly.

  “Ice. Mist. Growth. Thunder. Dust. Magma.”

  Huh, magic with semi-scientific logic. I liked that.

  Zarra continued, her tone growing more serious.

  “However, there are two forms of magic that can be acquired only at birth."

  I tilted my head. “Two?”

  “Yes. And that is healing magic. It's real attribute is actually holy magic.”

  She went silent after that.

  “You said two,” I pointed out. “But you only told be about one.”

  Her gaze drifted briefly toward the plaza outside.

  “The second…” she said quietly, “…is its corrupted form.”

  She hesitated.

  “It appeared only once in recorded history. The statue you asked about,” Zarra finished, “belongs to that person.”

  She met my eyes.

  “Yuna was the only known wielder of Despair Magic.”

  I gulped, my grip tightening around the coffee cup.

  “Ouch—ouch—hot, hot, hot, hot!”

  She laughed at my inability to learn from recent — very recent actually — mistakes.