In the year 1230 of the Almesis calendar, amidst the bustling city of Divrik, there was a small café located on the western outskirts of the city.
Though the café appeared simple, it was frequently visited by a few regular customers seeking tranquility after a long day of activity.
However, today, the café seemed unusually quiet, with only two people inside.
An old man sat behind the counter, and a man in a black cloak was engrossed in a book.
The man in the black cloak was a mysterious young man with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, as if he did not belong to this world.
He sat alone in the quiet corner of the café, sipping a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold, while his eyes remained focused on the open pages of the book in front of him.
Seemingly unaware of the rustling sounds outside or the bustling city beyond, the man was immersed in the world of the book he was reading.
But the peacefulness was short-lived.
An elderly man with white hair and a face full of wrinkles approached him.
The elderly man was the café's owner.
He had grown accustomed to seeing people come and go.
But for the past month, the man in the black cloak, who seemed to always come to read books and enjoy a cup of coffee, had piqued his curiosity.
"Hey, kid, if you want to read, you should take off your hood. It might be blocking your view," the old man said in a friendly but firm tone.
"Besides, I've told you before, no hoods in this café."
The man in the black cloak closed his book and looked at the old man with his sharp blue eyes, as if he could see deep into his soul.
Without saying a word, he removed his hood, revealing his neatly combed black hair.
His handsome, mysterious face seemed to make the surrounding space feel colder.
"This is what we call style," the young man said confidently, nodding his head.
There was an inevitable pride in his voice.
The old man sighed and shook his head, slightly bewildered by the young man's attitude.
"Style? Hah, that won't warm up your cold coffee," he muttered, then took a seat at the table near the man in the black cloak.
The young man in the black cloak chuckled softly, seemingly unaffected by the old man's remark.
"I heard from the clothes vendor on the back street that hoods like this have been looking good lately, so I thought I'd follow the trend," he said, shrugging as if explaining something very normal.
The old man could only stare at him in confusion.
"Clocks, style, whatever it is, you're no longer a teenager, so stop trying to get attention like that," the old man said, rubbing his face.
"You can't fool people with appearances like that. The world is much bigger than just looks."
The man in the black cloak didn't respond. Instead, he fell silent for a moment, as if pondering the old man's words.
After a while, his expression grew serious, and he closed his eyes, as if thinking about something very important.
"What will you do next?" the old man asked, noticing the sudden shift in the young man's demeanor.
The young man opened his eyes, stood up, and walked toward the café's window.
From there, he looked out at the busy city of Divrik. However, something bothered him.
Two dry leaves were dancing in the wind, floating down from above and landing in front of the window, even though there were no trees near the café. This unusual sight caught his attention.
The old man also looked at the fallen leaves, feeling a bit puzzled.
"That's odd, why are those leaves here?" he muttered, more to himself than to the young man.
The man in the black cloak remained silent, watching the leaves carried by the wind, as if he knew that this was no coincidence.
After a moment, he finally spoke.
"It seems it's time for me to leave," he said in a flat tone, as though the words had already been decided in his mind.
The old man looked at him, confused, then asked, "Will you come back tomorrow?"
The young man did not answer immediately. He stared at the old man for a moment, as if thinking, before finally saying without looking back, "Tomorrow I will come again to order coffee and read a book. But it will be the last time I come here."
With those words, the young man then walked toward the door and grasped the handle.
Before he opened the door and left the café, the old man spoke in a weary tone, "Alright then, I'll prepare the usual menu for tomorrow morning."
The man in the black cloak didn't respond, giving only a brief nod before opening the door and stepping out, leaving the café, which now felt even quieter.
The old man stood still, watching the young man leave with purposeful steps.
After a few seconds, the old man returned to his seat, staring blankly at the table where the man in the black cloak had sat.
"Will that be my last customer? Maybe it's time I retire," he thought, sighing heavily.
But as the old man walked over to clear the coffee cup, he found something strange inside it.
Two dry leaves were lying at the bottom of the cup, as if the young man had intentionally left them behind. Carefully, the old man picked up the leaves and examined them more closely.
On one leaf, there was fine, almost invisible white writing. When the old man flipped the leaf over, he saw a name he knew all too well—
Deteo Horcein
The name was his own.
With slightly trembling hands, the old man looked at the second leaf, but there was no writing on it.
It was just an ordinary dry leaf, but the presence of both leaves in the coffee cup was a sign that could not be ignored.
Something unknown was likely happening, and the old man could feel it.
In his heart, he knew that this encounter and perhaps everything that had happened in this café were part of something much bigger.
Though his thoughts might have been illogical, his feelings told him that something was about to happen.
"I might really close this café tomorrow," he murmured in a low voice while staring at the quiet door of the café.
***
Amid the hustle and bustle of Divrik city, filled with shops selling various items, there was one shop that stood out.
The shop was located at the end of a relatively quiet street. It had old black stone walls, cracked and worn, with broken windows that made it look like a house abandoned by its owner long ago.
Above the door hung a worn wooden sign with faint, barely readable letters that read, "Red Cat Antiques."
People usually walked quickly past it, as if they were unwilling to come near.
No one ever entered, for the shop seemed to exist outside the world they knew.
Beatrix stood frozen in front of the door she had been watching for a long time.
The sign seemed to imply something mysterious, and she felt as though there was something drawing her inside, even though no one ever dared to speak of it.
She then read an old note in her hand before looking back at the shop's door.
"Did he really live here?" Beatrix murmured, her eyes focused on the sign, her mind filled with questions.
With hesitant steps, she reached for the door handle and opened it slowly.
The door creaked, fine dust fell, and a small bell hanging from the door rang softly,
Tring... Ting...
as if announcing to the world that someone dared to enter this place.
As soon as Beatrix stepped inside, she was startled by what she saw.
The interior of the shop was very different from its exterior.
The shop combined classic and modern designs elegantly.
Antique items were neatly arranged in every corner, from old books to tools she had never seen before.
Despite its aged appearance, the shop was very clean and well-organized, almost like a secret room that had never been touched by outsiders.
"Hello..."
A soft voice from the corner of the room broke the silence, causing Beatrix to turn quickly.
A girl with reddish-orange hair was sitting in a chair, reading a thick book.
"Your eyes seem so focused. Does my shop look that interesting?" the girl asked cheerfully, as if she had been waiting for Beatrix's arrival.
Beatrix smiled faintly.
"I'm not sure. This place... feels different," she replied, her curiosity growing as she looked around.
"Welcome, Beatrix! Looks like you're in good spirits today," the girl said with a warm smile, setting her book down and standing up to greet her.
The girl's name was Sherly, the owner of the shop.
Beatrix nodded. "I hardly ever get sick, Sherly. How about you?"
"I'm doing fine, though it seems you're here earlier than usual," Sherly replied with a meaningful smile.
Beatrix laughed softly. "I think I came just in time, didn't I?" she said as she sat down in front of Sherly.
"Really? I haven't even finished reading my novel yet," Sherly laughed lightly.
"So I broke a record?" Beatrix responded casually.
Sherly raised her hand and then said, "[Storage]."
In an instant, a teapot and two cups appeared on the table. Sherly poured tea into the cups and handed one to Beatrix.
Beatrix took the cup and drank a little tea. Then, she stared at Sherly with a serious expression.
"I got the real name."
Sherly paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing with intrigue.
"Whose real name?"
"Merlin," Beatrix answered, her voice filled with deep conviction.
Sherly fell silent.
"Merlin... It sounds like you're talking about someone really fascinating. But are you sure?"
Beatrix nodded firmly.
"You're not talking about the wise wizard from the fairy tales, are you?" Sherly asked with a smile.
"He's the one I mean," Beatrix replied seriously.
Sherly, hearing her response, smiled but her expression was puzzled.
Beatrix then continued.
"I met him in person. He revealed everything himself."
Sherly didn't respond immediately but pondered for a moment before asking,
"You're not being deceived, are you?"
Beatrix grinned, slightly annoyed.
"Don't worry, I took your advice. This is definitely true."
Sherly sighed softly. "I'm a bit disturbed by the information you brought. If it's true, it could change a lot of things."
Beatrix smiled widely. "I'd be really grateful if you could help me, Sherly."
Sherly sighed again and stood up.
She walked over to a bookshelf filled with rare collections and grabbed several books. She then returned and handed the books to Beatrix.
"These might help, though I'm not sure how much information you'll get," she said as she handed over the books.
There were two fairy tale books, one research journal, and one notebook that looked worn and old.
Beatrix examined the notebook.
"This one's a bit odd," she said, then opened the first page.
Sherly nodded.
"I just bought it yesterday from a mysterious person."
Beatrix carefully flipped through the pages.
"On the 5th of the 7th month, 445, I found half a loaf of bread on the table and ate it in secret..."
As Beatrix read further, she began to feel confused.
"On the 8th of the 7th month, 445, I got lost in the forest and returned late. I was scolded by my uncle..." Beatrix continued reading, feeling more and more unclear.
Then, when she reached page 268, she stopped.
"On the 8th of the 5th month, 449, I slept, but I don't know if it was a dream. After practicing in secret, a strange old man called himself Merlin. He told me to pull a sword from the stone, and now I'm king. Hey, isn't this too ridiculous?"
Beatrix paused, her eyes wide in shock.
"Huh? What does this mean?"
Sherly smiled faintly.
"Finally, you understand, huh? That's the diary of someone truly extraordinary."
Beatrix was still confused, but she felt that something very significant was happening.
"This... This book belongs to King Arthur, doesn't it?"
Sherly nodded slightly.
"Yes, that's the diary of Arthur Pendragon, the legendary king known for his extraordinary sword. The book tells his life journey from his personal perspective."
Beatrix fell silent, trying to absorb the information.
The book, once thought to be just a legend, now seemed to hold the key to something much bigger.
"If this is true, then this book could be an important clue for my goal," she murmured.
Sherly smiled widely. "I knew you'd finally understand."
The atmosphere grew intense after Sherly said that.
It was as though a revelation had come from an unexpected place. Beatrix felt like she had found a small light in the mystery of her life.
Then Sherly spoke.
"Unless that book is truly authentic."
The vibrant atmosphere suddenly quieted.
"Well...?"
Beatrix felt the light she had seen begin to fade.
***