The crisp autumn air made the Seine Riverbanks an ideal evening retreat, attracting crowds to the local bars. Many of these establishments had help-wanted signs posted on their doors. One, in particular, caught Fanmuir's attention—a bar named New York Stories, exuding a unique charm that blended a New York aesthetic with rustic European elegance.
The bar was a standalone, two-story gabled structure spanning about 200 to 300 square meters. Its walls, designed to resemble the weathered trunks of ancient forest trees, added a rugged, timeless charm. The oak door, framed by timber accents, invited visitors into a space that felt like a forest hideaway.
Fanmuir pressed the doorbell. A languid yet melodic female voice responded, "Come in." The door wasn't locked, so he stepped inside. The bar's interior matched its exterior charm, with wooden tables painted in rich, earthy tones that evoked a sense of natural tranquility. The lighting was dim, punctuated by small, warm lamps that softened the atmosphere.
To the left of the entrance was a small stage for live performances. On the right stood the bar counter, where a striking woman sat on a high stool, engrossed in a stack of invoices. Fanmuir assumed she was the owner and started to approach her when he felt a small tug on his pants. Turning around, he saw a little girl, no older than five, dressed in a princess outfit with neatly tied pigtails. Her bright, curious eyes regarded him shyly but earnestly.
"Excuse me, Sir," she said in a soft, sweet voice, "my mom is really busy. I wanted to play with her, but she said she doesn't have time. Could you play with me instead? Just for a little while, until she's free?"
The woman at the bar counter was Caroline, the owner of New York Stories. Six years earlier, during her time as a student in New York, she had fallen for a charming CEO who abandoned her shortly after a brief fling. Pregnant and heartbroken, Caroline returned to Paris to rebuild her life. She opened New York Stories along the Seine, a bar that reflected her love for Western aesthetics and promoted a healthy drinking culture. Its unique ambiance and Caroline's striking beauty soon made the bar a popular spot, earning it a small but loyal following.
The little girl tugging at Fanmuir's pants was Chloe, Caroline's daughter. Growing up in a single-parent household with a mother constantly occupied by work, Chloe had developed a shy and reserved personality. It was highly unusual for her to approach a stranger, let alone initiate contact so boldly. Caroline noticed this interaction with surprise, her curiosity piqued. As she glanced at Fanmuir, she called out, "Chloe, don't bother the gentleman. Let him come here—he and Mommy have something to discuss."
Chloe's behavior, though unusual, wasn't entirely inexplicable. Children often have an unfiltered sense of intuition. Fanmuir, who had grown up in the pure and serene isolation of the Alps, exuded an aura of warmth and sincerity that even a child could sense. His spiritual connection to the Apollonian bloodline had attuned him deeply to the natural world, making him feel approachable and safe.
For Chloe, this gentle, unfamiliar Sir radiated kindness and a comforting presence, so much so that her usual shyness melted away. Even as her mother spoke, Chloe looked back at Fanmuir with wide, hopeful eyes. "Sir, after you talk to Mommy, will you come and play with me?"
Caroline couldn't help but notice the unusual dynamic. As a single mother juggling the demands of work and parenthood, she often felt guilty about not being able to give Chloe the attention she deserved. But seeing her normally reserved daughter light up around this stranger filled Caroline with a mix of curiosity and gratitude. She wondered what it was about this young man that drew Chloe to him so effortlessly.
Fanmuir, meanwhile, felt a flicker of amusement at the girl's innocent request. Despite having lived for over a millennium, his experiences with human interaction were limited. Yet here, in this quaint bar by the Seine, a little girl's unguarded sincerity reminded him of the simpler, purer connections he had long forgotten.
Although Fanmuir had come with the intention of securing a job, the look in the little girl's eyes—hope tinged with loneliness—gave him pause. As someone with extraordinary insight, Fanmuir could easily see the longing hidden in those bright eyes: the need for companionship and warmth. The sight of her small, blinking face, full of innocence, tugged at his heart. Smiling, he turned to Caroline and said, "How about this—finish your work first, and I'll keep this little lady entertained for a while."
Chloe's face lit up with excitement. She clapped her hands and skipped in place, but then hesitated, glancing at her mother for approval.
No mother could resist her child's expectant gaze. Caroline smiled warmly at Chloe before turning to Fanmuir. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. By the way, I assume you're here for the job opening? May I know your name?"
"My name is Fanmuir," he replied with a polite nod. "I saw your sign and thought I'd apply. But for now, I'd be happy to keep your daughter company—she's absolutely adorable!"
Caroline gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Fanmuir. And Chloe, be on your best behavior while you play, alright?" She gently tousled her daughter's hair before retreating back to her work.
Though Fanmuir had walked the Earth for over a millennium, his pure, unspoiled nature remained intact. He had long understood that to truly transcend his limits, he needed to immerse himself in the mortal world—to face its trials and emotions head-on. Only by experiencing life's complexity could he achieve ultimate enlightenment.
Playing with Chloe, who was just as pure and innocent, brought Fanmuir unexpected joy and a sense of ease. With a few simple illusions, he made objects appear and disappear, dazzling Chloe with his "magical" abilities. To her, he was nothing short of a wizard.
Caroline occasionally glanced out the window, her heart softening as she saw Chloe's radiant laughter echo through the bar. For a moment, her worries melted away, replaced by gratitude for the young man who had so effortlessly brought light into her daughter's life. At that moment, she decided she would hire Fanmuir.
As their game continued, Fanmuir asked, "So, what's your absolute favorite thing?"
"MOULIN ROTY toys!" Chloe declared, her face lighting up. "They're the cutest!"
"MOULIN ROTY toys?" Fanmuir repeated, confused. "What are those?"
Chloe's jaw dropped, and she stared at him as if he'd claimed he didn't know the sun existed. "You really don't know what MOULIN ROTY toys are?"
Fanmuir, the Bloodline Prince who had lived through centuries, felt a rare twinge of embarrassment under Chloe's incredulous gaze. How could something so basic for a five-year-old feel like an enigma to him? For the first time, he felt truly ignorant.
Chloe, seeing his genuine confusion, grew anxious. In her young mind, someone without a MOULIN ROTY toy was pitiful—how could they sleep without one to hug or have a confidant to share their troubles with? To Chloe, Fanmuir was one of the kindest people she'd met, and she couldn't bear for him to miss out on something so wonderful.
Determined to educate him, Chloe explained the toys with enthusiastic gestures, even showing him a picture for clarity. After a while, Fanmuir finally understood what MOULIN ROTY toys were, and Chloe sighed in visible relief, happy that her newfound friend was now "in the know."
Though the world saw Chloe as just an innocent child, Fanmuir's extraordinary insight allowed him to sense the sincerity and purity of her emotions. Despite standing at the apex of power, Fanmuir felt deeply touched by Chloe's genuine affection—a reminder that even in a mortal world full of complexities, such simple kindness was priceless.
Fanmuir lovingly patted the little girl's head, his touch gentle and reassuring. Chloe, feeling his warmth, snuggled her head against his chest and began chatting excitedly about her favorite MOULIN ROTY toys. Her innocent joy was contagious, and Fanmuir listened with genuine interest. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a shimmering, one-carat gemstone radiating with an enchanting brilliance. With a subtle gesture, he infused the stone with a trace of his magical energy.
"Can you show me one of your MOULIN ROTY toys?" Fanmuir asked with a soft smile.
Chloe eagerly handed him a pink bear from the Secret Forest collection. Taking the plush bear in his hands, Fanmuir carefully stroked its soft fur before pressing the gemstone into its right eye. Instantly, the bear transformed into a unique protective charm imbued with his magical energy—a token of his fondness for Chloe.
Returning the bear to her arms, Fanmuir watched as Chloe's face glowed with happiness, a rosy warmth spreading over her cheeks. She hugged the bear tightly, a radiant smile lighting up her expression.
At the sound of Chloe's delighted laughter, Caroline glanced over from the bar. It had been far too long since she'd seen her daughter so joyful. While the moment filled her with gratitude, it also brought a pang of guilt. She wished she could give Chloe more time and attention, but as a single mother juggling work and parenthood, there were limits to what she could manage.
With a soft sigh, Caroline closed her ledger and walked toward the two at the window. At 28, her youthful beauty remained undiminished—her smooth skin and graceful movements radiated a natural elegance.
As she approached, a subtle, fragrant scent reached Fanmuir, causing him to lift his gaze. His breath caught. Caroline's beauty was striking—ethereal yet approachable. Her warm aura and soft features exuded an effortless charm, leaving his heart momentarily unguarded. Quickly, Fanmuir composed himself, focusing on steadying his thoughts.
"Thank you for waiting. I'm sorry to have kept you," Caroline said as she sat across from him, her eyes tender as she glanced at Chloe.
"Mom, look! This gentleman likes my pink bear too!" Chloe ran to her mother, hugging her newly enhanced toy and beaming with pride.
Pressing the bear against her chest, Chloe added sweetly, "Mommy, you and the gentleman can talk now, but he has to come play with me again afterward, okay?" Her wide, hopeful eyes turned to Fanmuir.
Fanmuir smiled warmly and nodded without hesitation. How could he refuse such a heartfelt request? The time he spent with Chloe gave him a sense of peace and connection he hadn't felt in centuries.
"Thank you so much for spending time with my daughter—and for appreciating her pink bear," Caroline said softly, her voice carrying both gratitude and a hint of sadness. "She hasn't laughed like this in such a long time."
Fanmuir could sense the sincerity in her words and the bittersweet emotions she carried. A wave of compassion washed over him as he replied, "The pleasure was mine. Spending time with her brought me joy as well."
For reasons she couldn't quite articulate, Caroline found herself drawn to the young man. Maybe it was his kindness toward Chloe, or perhaps it was the clear, honest light in his eyes. Either way, she felt an inexplicable sense of trust in his presence.
Caroline prided herself on her beauty and allure, but the young man in front of her seemed unaffected. Apart from a brief flicker of something in his eyes when they first met, he showed no sign of untoward interest. While she was delighted that her daughter had taken a liking to this seemingly exceptional young man, a faint sense of disappointment lingered in her heart—how could her looks, which had always turned heads, fail to catch his attention?
In reality, Fanmuir wasn't immune to her charm. The sight of this confident, elegant woman stirred something in him, heating his thoughts. Yet, remembering that he was here for a job and mindful of Andrea's teachings about appropriate behavior, he managed to keep his composure and quell his instincts.
Caroline, meanwhile, had already made up her mind to hire him. She asked him about his background and felt genuinely impressed by his independence and resourcefulness.
"How are your English and French? Since we cater to tourists from all over Europe, being multilingual is a big plus," she asked, her voice warm and encouraging.
Fanmuir couldn't help but notice Caroline's sophistication and effortless charisma. Moments like these reminded him why worldly experiences were so vital for his growth. Without immersing himself in humanity, how could he fully understand the intricacies of life and emotions?
"I can speak multiple languages," Fanmuir said confidently. "Perhaps not fluently in all, but I'm proficient."
"Really?" Caroline found his modesty endearing. Her instincts told her he wasn't someone to make empty boasts, and his language skills were likely exceptional.
When Fanmuir spoke in impeccable Parisian French, Caroline's eyes widened in astonishment. His accent was so flawless that she felt as if she were speaking to a native.
"Mr. Huxwell, your French is incredible! Even I, a born-and-raised Parisian, have to admit defeat," she said, genuinely impressed.
"You flatter me," Fanmuir replied, a slight blush coloring his cheeks before he quickly regained his composure. "Please, just call me Fanmuir."
"Then you must call me Caroline," she said with an easy smile.
"Does this mean I'm hired?" Fanmuir asked, his voice tinged with anticipation. The thought of working here—spending more time with the lovable Chloe and having such a captivating boss—was undeniably appealing.
"Of course! A student from Paris's top university, fluent in several languages? You're exactly what I need. We'll start you as a server for now, and adjustments can be made later. The pay is €18 per hour, working from 6 PM to 1 AM, with overtime paid separately. How does that sound?"
"The pay is more than fair," Fanmuir said earnestly. "But since I'm still a student, I'd like to request Mondays and Wednesdays off. I'm fine with evenings and overtime otherwise. Would that work?"
While Fanmuir's request disrupted her usual staffing plans, Caroline found herself agreeing without hesitation.
After finalizing the details, Fanmuir prepared to leave, but Chloe wasn't ready to let him go. She clung to him, chattering happily, and he couldn't bring himself to refuse her. He stayed longer, playing with her until she was finally satisfied.
It was only after Fanmuir made a solemn promise—swearing on her beloved pink bear —that he would return whenever possible that Chloe reluctantly let him go.