CHAPTER 255: BREAD AT THE DOOR

Zane sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of his tiny inn room, candlelight flickering faintly on the desk. He squinted at the shadow stretching out beneath him.

"Alright, little guy. Hand, move." He lifted his palm dramatically like he was about to summon lightning.

The shadow twitched.

Zane gasped. "Oh ho! Progress!" He tried again, thrusting his hand sideways. The shadow jerked—but instead of moving left, it wiggled like it was doing a terrible dance.

"...Okay, that’s not what I ordered."

He tried again. Shadow flopped. Again. Shadow twitched like it was having stage fright. Zane sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. I officially have the most uncoordinated shadow in existence. This is embarrassing."

Meanwhile, downstairs, Mira was clutching a small plate of warm bread. She never brought food personally. People usually begged her for attention, not the other way around. And yet, something about the boy—his indifference, his complete failure to even look at her properly—had stuck in her chest like a burr.

It’s just bread, she told herself, inhaling deeply. Bread. You hand it over, he says thank you, maybe smiles—no big deal.

She marched up the stairs, then froze in front of his door. Her heart thumped. "Okay... five breaths. Just five."

She inhaled. Exhaled. Did it four more times. Finally, hand trembling, she knocked.

Inside, Zane jumped like he’d been caught committing a crime. His shadow flailed across the wall like it had been electrocuted.

"NOT NOW, I’M BUSY!" he blurted, voice cracking.

Mira blinked at the door. "...Busy?"

Zane winced. "Uh—I mean... training! Advanced... shadow coordination!" He realized how stupid that sounded and smacked his forehead. "Wait, no, not shadow, just... coordination. With my shadow. But not creepy."

Silence.

"...Right," Mira said slowly through the door, torn between confusion and laughter. "I just... brought bread."

There was a loud thump inside, followed by Zane tripping over his own bag. "Bread? Actual food-bread? Like—made-of-wheat bread?"

"Yes," Mira replied, biting back a giggle.

The door flung open. Zane stood there, hair a mess, shirt slightly crooked, and eyes wide like he’d just been offered a treasure chest. He snatched the plate with both hands. "You... you’re a lifesaver. I thought I was gonna have to eat my pillow tonight."

Mira blinked. "...Eat your pillow?"

"Don’t question it." He tore into the bread like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Halfway through chewing, he froze and pointed at her with the other half. "Wait—you’re not gonna charge me for this, are you?"

Mira’s lips twitched into a grin. "No. Consider it... complimentary."

Zane narrowed his eyes suspiciously, still chewing. "Complimentary like, because I look pitiful, or complimentary like, don’t worry about it?"

"Both."

He swallowed hard, then nodded seriously. "Fair enough. Thanks, Mira." He immediately went back to devouring the bread.

She stood there, plate in hand, watching him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. Who just eats in front of someone like that without even pretending to have manners?

And yet, she couldn’t help it—she was smiling.