Chapter 1: Prologue

Does God exist?

 

A being that many philosophers have wondered about, theologians have raved about it , and scientists have denied it . Some see it in the sun; others see it in Mother Nature. Some see God in the ocean, others believe in the existence of a higher being.

 

And sometimes one sees God in man as well. In the presence of someone who is overflowing with talent, as a being loved by God.

 

God's beloved child. A being that people are sometimes in complete reverence of. Sometimes they are the object of envy and jealousy. A person who is sometimes called a genius, sometimes a prodigy, and sometimes an existence that is looked down upon with deep respect . There are beloved childrens of God in every aspect  su as ;. I sports, music, academics .

 

And even  among  pastry makers.

 

...

"The remaining time is less than 30 minutes. Each country seems to be making the final touches."

 

The commentator's cheerful voice echoed through the hall. He had traveled all the way from Japan to Europe to give a live report on the world competition for patissiers ( pastry chefs). There are only a few dozen minutes left in the contest. The world's best pastry chef will be decided soon .

 

It seems that the final preparations for the Japanese team have come to an end.

 

The camera was pointed at a group of men dressed in white. There was none of the musty smell that one would expect to find in a group of only men. In fact ,it was  far from it, the place was filled with a sweet smell.

 

In the work space area given to the Japanese team , sitting on the table was a huge piece of Amezaiku candy. The object of sweetness, which was taller than a person, gave an oddly intimidating impression on the workbench.

 

Delicate and bold. A work of art created with the greatest possible skill, it is beautiful enough to be worthy of being named a world-class piece of art.

 

The Japanese team is currently in second place in terms of points. The difference in points between them and the first place team is minimal, and everyone agrees that this Amezaiku is sure to bring them to the top.

 

However, the faces of the  people who created such works are still dull. They look serious. This is because the most difficult part of the Amezaiku competition is to move the Amezaiku from the worktable to the specified scoring spot. If it is not placed at the specified place, no matter how wonderful the work is, it will not be awarded any points. If it is dropped during the process of moving it, everything that has been accumulated will be ruined.

 

Even a child's feet can reach this distance in five steps. Those five steps are the most important five steps for every pastry chef . Ten steps. No, even if it takes 10,000 steps, it would not be spared if they could reach that distance safely.

 

"I lift it up at the 3 count. We'll take it carefully. One, two, three!"

 

With a shout, the lump of candy is slowly lifted, and its weight is transmitted to the holder. The heavy numbness in his hands was probably due to the pressure of nearly becoming the world's number one. The weight of the candy feels even stronger on a body that is tense from the stress. The team carries the  object slowly and deliberately. Their steps were like those of a tortoise.

 

Finally, the work is lowered to the specified place. The long battle was over. That's when everyone thought it was over.

 

Oh, I forgot to set the erase option for the previous life memory. Oh well. I don't have much time before you passed  away.

 

The craftsman could not believe his ears when he suddenly heard a voice. It was a voice that was hard to hear. But the voice is so clear and mysterious that it lingers in the ear. It was as if an old radio with poor reception was being played at high volume and close to his ear.

 

There is nothing more startling than a loud voice when you are nervous. Immediately, the piece slips from his hands. For those of them who were there, it felt as if time was passing very slowly. A huge lump falls down in front of the chief's eyes. Even though it is sugar, the mass, which takes several adults to  clear up , falls down. A high-pitched scream is heard in the distance.

 

A blunt object of sugar hits the chief's  head. He felt something raw and warm flowing from his head. In fact, his head turned bright red in no time at all. It was blood, and the smell of iron was enough for him to recognize it. He was so used to the sweet smell that it seemed awfully strong.

 

His eyes went completely black. As the memories of his dream flashed through his mind, he thought of his dream that was about to come true.

 

He was born  in a single-parent family, and as far as he was concerned, he longed for sweets, which he was not allowed to buy. The taste of the cake he made for a birthday and the smile on his mother's face. This is what inspired him to become a pastry chef. The companions who cheered each other on even in the midst of hard work.

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A dream that he has always  longed during his lifetime .

 

He  wanted to make the best cake in the world.

 

And then one pastry chef dies. Along with his  named , means  the "perfect child of God".

...

The baby's cry echoed around the room.

 

"Congratulations! It's a healthy boy."

 

The midwife congratulated women on her child. In her hands was a newborn baby. The baby was wrapped in a cloth and placed on the mother's chest.

 

"Oh, yes, it's a boy," she said. 

"Well done, Agnes."

 

The father's expression broke into a smile as he said to his wife.

"You did a good job."

In the arms of the woman who responded with a weary expression, the baby was crying, wrapped in the cloth.

 

"Oh, he's so cute. He looks like you with his eyes and nose. He will be a handsome boy, I am sure."

 

"Yes, he will be a handsome boy," replied the woman. "But his eyes are the same color as yours. Nice color. ......"

 

"What's wrong?"

 

The husband calls out to his wife, whose face is filled with curiosity.

 

"No, he' ...... seems to be listening to what we are saying. ......"

 

No way. How could he possibly understand a word when he was born a moment ago?"

 

"......Yes, I know."

Such casual exchanges. The baby stared at the couple's conversation as if he were listening to a foreign language.

 

"What should we name him, dear?"

 

"I have already decided on that."

 

The father gently holds the baby in his mother's arms with both hands. They   gazed at each other.

 

"Your name is Paistree, Paistree-Mil-Morteln."

 

 

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