As Arthur looked around the restaurant, he found the atmosphere oddly refreshing.

The place was small, yet filled with a warmth he wasn’t used to—soft voices, gentle laughter, and people who felt… genuine. He could tell.

Years in the military, fighting wars on foreign land, had sharpened his instincts; he knew the difference between dangerous men and good-hearted ones at one glance.

But this place… this place was unlike anything he had ever known.

The simplicity, the peace—it all felt strange to him. Unsettling.

A faint frown tugged at his brow.

“Am I even allowed to be here?” he murmured,

Suddenly, a torrent of negative thoughts rushed through his mind. His hands clenched tightly together as he stared at the table, avoiding any chance of someone noticing his inner turmoil.

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his breathing grew uneven. His trauma was clawing its way back, suffocating him in its grip.

Then, he heard a soft sound—a plate being set down on the table. Slowly, he looked up, and his eyes met the intense gaze of the mysterious woman.

Her expression was calm but piercing, as if she could see right through him.

“Uhmm, are you alright, sir?” she asked.

Her voice was low, but he could hear a faint note of concern in it.

Arthur quickly covered his face with one hand, leaning his elbow on the table.

“Y-Yes, I’m alright. Thank you for the food.” he replied, his voice strained and tinged with pain.

For a few seconds, he can still feel her presence in front of him.

The silence stretched, and then, unexpectedly, he felt warmth on his forehead.

Startled, he looked up to see the woman leaning closer, her hand gently pressed against his forehead.

Her proximity caught him off guard, her face mere inches from his.

Her face was unreadable yet her gaze locked in his.

”Ah…you finally looked at me.” she said in a gentle voice.

Arthur’s confusion deepened. “What are you doing?” he asked, his curiosity overcoming his discomfort.

She straightened as she slowly took a single step back.

“S-Sorry… I didn’t mean to touch you like that.”

She let out a soft sigh. “It just… looked like something was troubling you,” she said, her tone calm yet careful.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment, as if trying to understand what he was feeling. Then her expression softened into a gentle smile.

“My name is Alice. Nice to meet you, sir,” she said simply

Then she turned and walked away.

Arthur sat frozen in his seat, utterly baffled.

She really is an enigmatic person,

he muttered to himself.

But then, something unusual happened.

The relentless ache in his mind, the pain that usually lingered for at least an hour, was completely gone. He touched his forehead, still feeling the faint warmth of her hand.

That’s strange,

he whispered.

The pain… it vanished right after she touched me.

His gaze shifted to the food on the table, and his stomach growled in response.

The meal looks delicious, its aroma drawing him in.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his hunger took over.

“Thanks for the food,” he whispered before picking up the spoon and digging in, savoring every bite.

As he took a bite, a little light sparkled in his hollow eyes.

It's...delicious.

He never tasted more delicious food in his entire life than this. He somehow smiled, but he didn’t notice it. 

Alice watched from a distance, her gaze softening as she saw him smile. A wave of relief washed over her, and she found herself smiling too.

Jean noticing this rare display of emotion, smirked knowingly.

"Well, well, the witch of the restaurant finally smiles," she teased, her voice playful.

"You're usually tense and stiff. Who knew you can actually smile."

Alice turned to her with a soft and warm smile.

“That guy over there looked so tired earlier… but when he started to ate, he looked alive again. It was nice to see.” she admitted, her tone filled with warmth.

She then placed both her hands on the counter and her gaze shifted at Jean.

“And for the record, I'm not a witch." Her eyes narrowed.

Jean sighed, shaking her head. "That man, though... he's a sol—"

Before she could finish, the doorbell chimed, announcing a new customer.

The interruption left Alice curious but unable to press further.

She let out a soft sigh.

"What was she about to say?" she murmured to herself, her curiosity gnawing at her.

Meanwhile, Arthur paid for his meal and left the restaurant. The food had been exceptional, so much so that it brought on an unusual sense of drowsiness.

Since the war had ended, restful sleep had been a rarity for him, the haunting memories of battle refusing to release their grip.

But today felt different. As soon as he reached his home, he collapsed onto his bed and drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber.

For the first time in years, his dreams weren't plagued by the horrors of war.

Instead, he found himself sitting under a tree, the gentle rustle of leaves and birdsong filling the air.

The wind was refreshing, the sunlight warm on his skin.

He unexpected smiled, savoring the serenity of the moment.

Then, in the distance, he saw a woman with long, white hair. Her figure was blurred, her back turned to him. He tried to focus, to see her face, but just as she began to turn, the dream shattered.

Arthur woke abruptly, his chest rising and falling as if he'd been running. Sweat dampened his brow, and he stared blankly at the ceiling.

"W-What was that just now?" he muttered, his voice low and uncertain.

Turning his head, he noticed the window. The night sky stretched endlessly outside, the moon casting its soft glow.

Evening had already arrived.

He got up, brewed himself a cup of coffee, and stepped outside for some fresh air. The cool breeze brushed against his skin as he gazed at the moon, his thoughts swirling.

"It was... too peaceful," he whispered, recalling the dream. "Why now?"

For a fleeting moment, he lost himself in the moon’s soft glow, mesmerized by its pale beauty, until the sound of soft footsteps broke the stillness.

His eyes widened in surprise.

On the road ahead, she was the enigmatic woman that cooked for him in the small eatery earlier.

And in an instant, the images from his dream flashed vividly before his mind.

The woman from my dream and this mysterious woman.

They looked the same. Or were they?

He muttered under his breath.

His gaze lingered on her, lost in thought, until their eyes finally met.

At that moment, the woman began walking toward him with deliberate, measured steps.

“Hello…” she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of shyness.

“Why are you walking so late at night?” he asked, masking his surprise behind a neutral expression, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity.

“I was just heading home after visiting a co-worker who was sick,” she replied, letting out an awkward laugh.

Silence hung between them for a few seconds, heavy and expectant, until—

She asked an unexpected question.

"Do you remember my name?"

He hesitated but nodded. "Alice, isn’t it?"

Her silver eyes slowly brightened up and her lips curved into a faint smile.

"That's right. And you? I don’t know your name yet. Will you tell me?"

For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a faint sigh, he replied,

"Arthur."

She reached out as if to take his hand, then stopped halfway, lowering it awkwardly.

“Jean told me you were looking for someone to cook for you…” She paused, and tried to look away from his gaze as if trying to ease her pounding heart.

“U-Um… did you like the food I made earlier?”

He blinked, the memory of the meal coming back to him.

"It was... delicious," he replied, his voice softer than he intended to. "Also, yes, I am looking for someone to cook for me."

Her eyes glimmered in surprise, and before she realized it, her gaze lifted to meet his, confidence shimmering in her expression.

“How about me?” she blurted out. “Am I… qualified for the job?”

Arthur was momentarily taken aback by what she said.

"Your food did something no one else has managed—it made my nightmares go away and gave me peaceful sleep.” He chuckled softly.

“Honestly, just like what everyone says about you, you really are like a witch."

Alice laughed awkwardly, her eyes meeting him with a knowing glint.

"I'm not a witch." 

Arthur looked her in the eyes.

“Sure… I’d like to eat more of the food you cook.”

Alice’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to say that so directly, and with such an unreadable expression.

“Be ready then,” she said, pausing for a moment.

She stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them, as if ready to return to where she was staying.

“I’m currently living in the restaurant,” she said softly. “I want to focus on cooking for you, which is why I’ll quit my job.”

Arthur’s grew widened in a bit of surprise. Yet, when he caught the unwavering resolve sparkling in her gaze, he knew she was serious.

The cold night breeze stirred her long silver hair. “I-I know this might sound…too forward,” she said, pressing her lips into a thin line.

“B-But… Can I stay at y-your place?”

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment and then slowly opened them again.

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to keep both jobs? I mean, you’re saving money for your journey, right?” he suggested, his tone calm and thoughtful.

She shook her head quickly.

“Jobs shouldn’t be taken lightly. Besides, I’ll expect you to pay me well,” She said with a lighthearted laugh, her playful tone clearly meant to brighten the mood.

To her surprise, he smiled—a small, unintentional gesture that softened his otherwise stoic demeanor.

“Well, that depends on how good your cooking is,” he replied.