A bottle of alcohol and the sound the soles of his shoes made as they treaded on the wet asphalt; two things that accompanied the middle-aged man who staggered through the rain on that quiet night. In the puddles, he saw the reflection of someone who had just been fired from his job. As if his wife's affair a few days ago wasn't enough, while packing his things from the office, he was sent a message by his neighbor, saying his daughter was rushed to the hospital after being assaulted by a gang of thugs.

The poor man could only daydream with his empty brain, filled with negative thoughts, feeling sorry for himself.

In the middle of his reverie, the man saw a bright light from one of the buildings on the side of the street, where a barista in a green apron was standing under a street lamp, sheltered under a small umbrella, facing him.

"Looks like you're indecisive, would you like a cup of coffee to calm yourself down? " The barista said.

"Ah, sorry, but it doesn't seem necessary."

Looking at the liquor bottle that still had a quarter of its contents left, the man did not feel the need for additional hydration.

"I don't have anything to pay for it either."

"Don't worry, our café doesn't use money as a means of payment," explained the barista, which naturally carved a question mark in the other's mind.

However, before she could say anything about her current feelings of not wanting to be interrupted, something strange happened; her legs moved on their own!

The middle-aged man furrowed his brow, as, miraculously, his legs moved against his will.

"What's wrong with this?!" the man screamed, as his feet continued to follow the barista's footsteps towards the café entrance. His hands reached out to the barista, who, he guessed, was hypnotizing him. There was no doubt about it, he must have been tricked! Although his efforts were yet to bear fruit thanks to the target's quick pace.

Arriving at the café, the middle-aged man's brain was filled with wonder again, witnessing the spacious interior of the café. The yellow-lit room with a cozy and luxurious atmosphere looked more like a giant hotel lobby than a café, which didn't make sense considering how small the café was from the outside.

The man, resigned when all his attempts to hurt the barista failed, let his two defiant legs follow the barista into a warehouse.

"B-Didn't I want to be served coffee?!"

The middle-aged man protested as the hairs on his body stood up. He knew he wouldn't get the same answer as before, so his mouth chose to mumble a prayer of being left alone.

When the cellar door opened, they were greeted by a flight of stairs that extended downward. Now the servant and the man walked along the steps that led to who knows what kind of room, stepping one after the other. The man's anxiety is short-lived, however, as it turns out that, below the cafe, there is another cafe.

Rather than a cafe, the place the man found in the basement was more of a coffee shop. There was a selection of different types of coffee, from various regions, available. Fried foods and greasy snacks such as stuffed tofu, ote-ote, and spring rolls are sold in front of the shopkeeper. A display case filled with instant noodles of various flavors, something no stall owner should forget these days, was displayed beside him.

The lights used are so bright, making customers who visit forget for a moment that they are underground. Not a single ray of darkness escapes the illumination.

However, there was one thing that made the middle-aged man wonder seven rounds; all the patrons, in their respective seats, were fast asleep. Not even the coffee shop workers seemed to react to the scene. Before he could ask, the barista who led him here said, "Ignore them, they're enjoying themselves."

"Fun?"

"It would be nice if you didn't disturb them, you wouldn't like being woken up by a stranger, would you?" Said the waiter who resumed his footsteps.

"Right," the middle-aged man responded as he swallowed. "Where are we going, anyway?" he added, still looking right and left, observing the positions of people sleeping in strange conditions. Falling asleep with their faces buried in bowls of instant noodles? Sleeping with their mouths full of food? Falling asleep on the floor? This kind of absurd behavior could only mean one thing.

"Hey! You're not trying to sell me drugs, are you?!"

The barista chuckled, ignoring the comical accusations of the man behind him.

Soon, they arrived in front of one of the doors. The barista opened the door and told the man to enter first.

The karaoke room. The oval table, right in the center, is filled with microphones, surrounding a thick binder of song lists. The television at the far end of the room lit up the room with layers that shot out multi-colored light.

A cup of coffee was served on the table. Surprisingly, it had been there even before the two of them came here. As if waiting for people to drink it. Its fragrant aroma filled every corner of the room, enticing anyone who inhaled it.

"This is yours," said the barista who then slid the cup in front of the middle-aged man.

"But how will I pay for it? Will I pay with my life?" Asked the man, remembering the barista's statement at the entrance that the 'cost' was not money.

"Ah, take it easy. Once you enjoy this coffee, you'll know how to pay for it yourself," replied the barista with a smile.

The middle-aged man couldn't help but follow the barista's lead. He was sure that the person in front of him could control not only his legs, but also deliberately let both hands and his entire upper body move freely for a reason he didn't know. In fact, if the person in front of him now was that powerful, he should have just controlled his hands to grab the cup, then immediately bring it to his lips to sip it all, without a trace!

However, when he saw the reflection of his face on the surface of the coffee; wet and wrinkled, losing the light, he realized something; could his condition now be worse?

"I guess not."

Unconsciously, his lips moved on their own, saying so. Surprised by his own words, the middle-aged man looked back at the barista, who was still wearing a wide smile that seemed so sincere. Not in the least did he detect any lies or deceit behind it.

"If I drink this, will I be able to smile like you?"

Hearing the question, the barista nodded slowly.

The middle-aged man's heart was steady, and although his fingers retreated several times before touching the handle of the cup, and trembled when he brought his mouth to the pitch-black puddle, he didn't care anymore.

He drank it.

He savored each warm sip, full of concentration, grateful for how delicious the thing that made him cringe just seconds ago turned out to be. However, for some reason, drowsiness suddenly struck him as soon as the coffee ran out. Because of that unbearable drowsiness, the cup he was holding fell over, shattering, making a loud noise, though not loud enough to wake up his now-sleepy self, before gravity forced him to crash to the floor.

Only the darkness that a middle-aged man could see just after he fell asleep. Endless blackness. Before a glimmer of light, far ahead of him, shone through. The light was moving closer and closer towards the middle-aged man, or rather, he was the one approaching the light.

A glare was all the middle-aged man could see as the light crashed into him. Before being replaced by the sensation of a gust of wind. Finding his skin enveloped in the coolness that came through, he was forced to stop closing his eyes in order to find out where the wind came from.

However, a rough sensation preceded, disrupting the focus of her senses that had been relaxed and bathed in comfort. His hands groped further for the familiar texture.

Grass.

Upon realizing that he had fallen asleep in a vast grassland with a strong wind, the middle-aged man was at a loss for words. Surrounded by the swaying grass, he sat up, looking around in all directions, wondering what had happened while he was unconscious.

Immediately, smoke emerged from underneath the middle-aged man, coiling around his body like a large snake, making it difficult for him to breathe. After the curl began to thin, a fairy figure appeared, smaller than the palm of a human hand.

"Welcome to Single Origin, the illusory world created by baristas, a world where we can fantasize about anything!" The fairy explained simply.

"Huh?"

The middle-aged man did not catch any of the words spoken. It wasn't that he didn't hear, but rather, the explanation he received felt straight to the point, and incredibly absurd at the same time.

"If it really is an illusion," the middle-aged man took a deep breath. "Can I fantasize about having a beautiful family? Harmonious?" He added, while advancing his forefinger to land a poke on the fairy's body, trying to confirm whether the butterfly-sized creature was real.

"Of course you can, with the permission of the baristas you can create your own ideal world in Single Origin!" The fairy replied, seemingly unperturbed by her interlocutor's touch. "Ah! Of course, for the stability of the Single Origin, the baristas limit one's wishes. That's why the baristas created an ability based on that person's Soul. That ability is called Pour Over. "

"So what is my ability?"

"No idea, you'll have to find out for yourself. By the way, your time will be up soon, so see you later!" Said the fairy who then flew into the sky, welcoming the dazzling light that the middle-aged man accidentally saw as well, forcing him to close his eyes once again.

When his eyes reopened, he found himself back in the coffee shop, just like before, however, he was the only one still inhabiting the basement. He immediately changed his position from lying on the floor to sitting when he was met with a piece of paper and a pen beside him.

"How was your dream? Wasn't it beautiful? Would you like to be our regular customer?" said the middle-aged man, reading what was written there.

Without thinking, she wrote her name, giving her signature.