Chapter 19: 15 [a breakfast lover]

Terasia had sent a long text message to me when I finally woke up to a warm and balmy Saturday sunrise, the vague remnants of my dream slipping away as my eyes peeled open.

“Good morning! Are you still sleeping? I think you are, aren’t you? Hurry up and wake up already! What kind of Hero sleeps this soundly at night?” I mumbled, reading her message aloud while stifling an awful yawn. “Well, sorry that I have to repay the sleep debt I owe from over the week…” 

Typing a quick “where are you now?” back to her, I drew back the curtains and opened my window for some fresh air. The sudden burst of sunlight blinded me momentarily and flooded my bedroom, illuminating the specks of dust floating in the air above my bed. 

Usually, the words ‘quiet’, ‘pleasant’, or maybe even ‘tranquil’ would be used to describe a beautiful morning like this. But living in a city like Singapore meant that noise was everywhere, at any given time; right now, I could hear birds chirping shrill tunes from the trees outside, and the faint rumble of trains running on the nearby North-South Line.

“Avery, are you up already?” Mum popped her head out from behind my bedroom door. “There’s some breakfast left in the fridge. Throw it into the microwave and heat it for three minutes before eating, alright?”

“Got it, Mum,” I said languidly. “I’m going out with a friend today, so I won’t be back until night.”

“Orh, just make sure to come back home safely. I have to go for a meeting now…” Mum’s voice faded with the thud of the front door closing shut.  

I grabbed my towel and went into the bathroom to freshen up. In the reflection of the mirror, I could see the dark eye bags that permanently resided under my two bleary eyes. Dealing with school and Terasia had definitely done a number on my poor body, I thought wryly to myself as I brushed my teeth and spit the foam out into the sink. Too lazy to turn the water heater on, I dumped myself into a cold shower before changing into a pair of Bermuda shorts and a loose-fitting T-shirt. 

Breakfast was a cling-wrapped tray of frozen chicken meat buns that were as hard as rocks; I tossed two buns into a bowl and reheated them in the microwave until they were somewhat edible. The TV, which Mum had left tuned to CNA, switched to the weather forecast just as the microwave beeped. Listening half-heartedly to the soothing music that accompanied the broadcast, I sat down and bit into a bun, leisurely munching on the chunky chicken paste before swallowing everything in one go. 

Daytime certainly feels much more relaxing when there isn’t the thought of being late for school constantly nagging at my mind… 

My thought was interrupted by my phone vibrating with another incoming message from Terasia.

I’m outside your house! Let me in plsss 

“WHAT—” I nearly choked on my second bun and coughing vehemently, I stumbled to the front door with a mixture of incredulity and astonishment. As if to confirm my worst fears, the doorbell suddenly rang with a melodious chime.

When I cautiously opened the door, Terasia was standing there in the common corridor, her impatient aquamarine eyes staring back at me. She was dressed in a tan woollen sweater paired with a black miniskirt and sheer stockings, which made me wonder how she survived the oppressive tropical heat on her way here. 

Before I could utter a word, she flipped her hair loftily and grumbled in an irritated voice, “finally, I was going to kick this door down if you appeared a second later! It’s so hot outside that I’m going to melt!”

“Then why did you wear a sweater…” With a resigned sigh, I reluctantly stepped aside and let her in. “How did you even find my house? Did you stalk me home?” 

“I went to every single flat in this apartment block and knocked on each door asking for you,” she said deadpanned. 

I shot her a “are you serious” look and she laughed. “Anyway, what were you doing just now?” 

“Eating breakfast,” I said, following her to the living-cum-dining room. 

“By ‘breakfast’, you mean this…uh, thing?” She picked the half-eaten bun off my plate and examined it as if it was an alien specimen from another universe. “What is this thing even??” 

Mildly upset by her appalled reaction, I mumbled, “chicken meat bun.”

“This thing has actual chicken meat inside?” she said with a doubtful look in her eyes. 

“It’s heavily processed meat from some unknown factory…but yeah, there’s chicken inside,” I said pointedly. “That’s why it’s called a chicken meat bun.”

“I thought you humans would be eating better food than those uncivilised beastkin,” she said, shaking her head in utter disappointment. “Throw that thing away, I’ll make you a proper breakfast.” 

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“You will?” I blinked in surprise as she rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and opened the fridge to check its contents. 

“Of course,” she replied, oddly confident while putting a saucepan on the gas stove. “…Avery, what are you doing?”

“I’m filling up a bucket of water in case you start a fire in the kitchen,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes and said in a haughty voice, “trust me, I took the time and effort to learn every single thing there is to learn about human cuisine on this planet.”

Holding the full bucket in my hands, I gave her a sidelong look. “Really…” 

“Really, really.” She shoved me out of the kitchen and closed the sliding door shut. “Just sit tight and wait for me to be done!”

Still having some reservations in my head, I sat uneasily on the sofa, one ear listening to the TV while the other trained on the kitchen. However, it was unusually quiet save for the occasional clang of metal and the whoosh of gas being ignited—so quiet, to the point where I was wondering if she was even cooking anything in the kitchen. After sitting through a few minutes of ennui, I relaxed and lounged before the TV, mindlessly watching the advertisements that popped up on the screen after the weather forecast. 

The channel was airing an episode from “Japan Hour” when I finally heard the sound of the kitchen door sliding open. 

“Did I make you wait for too long?” Terasia asked, carrying a steaming plate of food in oven mitts and placing it on the coffee table in front of me. 

“No, not really…” My sleepy voice trailed off when I caught sight of her dish. I blinked, making sure that I wasn’t hallucinating, and my jaw dropped. 

She twirled a lock of hair around her finger nervously. “What do you think?” 

“T-this…” Pointing at the plate, I turned my head up to gawk at her. “How did you make this? I didn’t even know we had all these ingredients in our house?!” 

“No, I can confirm that your kitchen is in a sorry state in terms of ingredients and condiments available,” she said without a shred of hesitation. “I procured these on my own, which is why I took a bit longer than usual.” 

I shifted my awestruck gaze back to the dish Terasia had prepared for me. My best guess was that she had made French toast, but…but what in the world is this? I had never laid my eyes on French toast with such stunning appearance and richness! Not only was each golden brown slice of brioche bread drizzled with a mouth-watering mixture of maple syrup and caramelised brown sugar, but she had also gone the extra mile of adding whipped cream and powdered sugar on top of each slice, in addition to the finishing touch of fresh berries to give a brilliant pop of colour to the dish. 

“W-well? You haven’t answered my question yet,” she said, albeit anxiously. “I hope it isn’t something that doesn’t suit your liking.” 

I opened and closed my mouth like a goldfish, my brain still not quite capable of working out the dish—which looked like something out of Pinterest rather than actual food—that Terasia had simply conjured out of nowhere. Carefully picking a slice up in my hand, I brought it to my already drooling mouth and ate it bite by bite. The taste did not betray its appearance at all—the bread was soft and fluffy like a marshmallow, with a delicate sweetness that was a perfect canvas for the warm and gooey syrup. The fresh berries offered a tart and juicy burst of flavour with every bite, and the whipped cream served to balance the overall richness of a perfect French toast. 

“Terasia, you know,” I managed to say after wolfing down three slices in one go, “you should seriously consider quitting school and open a bakery or cafe instead.” 

“Quit school?” She tilted her head to the side and gave me a confused look. “But why? I want to go to school—together with you and Liam and everyone else.” 

“How should I put it…” I shrugged my shoulders as I savoured the last slice of French toast. “Let’s say you possess enough magical power to destroy worlds and universes, but you choose to enter a magic academy to train with other magicians instead. It just doesn’t make sense.” 

“I find that quite romantic, though?” she said, holding a finger to her lips. “Imagine if you come across your soulmate in the magic academy, and for the sake of staying by their side, you are willing to use your power solely to support them along the way.” 

Eh? What is she talking about… 

Not expecting such a response from her, I could feel my cheeks suddenly warm up as I swallowed my French toast quietly. “T-thank you very much for the wonderful breakfast.”

She giggled and flashed me a shy, yet proud smile. “It’s my pleasure.”

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