Chapter 52: Echoes of the Past

Harvesting the remaining jewel berries from the bushes, I combined them with my existing stock, filling four baskets.

The fact that harvested materials don’t spoil, as if time is frozen, was a huge advantage in moments like this.

“I’ve prepared all the materials. What’s next?” I asked.

“You’ve settled on jewel berries for the liquor?” Bernell said. “Then you need to decide whether to include the skins or remove them. You can crush the fruit or keep it whole, but for whole-fruit liquor, you must finely crush the skins and add them.”

“Hm, since this is a test, should I try both methods?”

Jewel berry skins have a sweet, sugary taste, called jewel berry sugar. Including them would make a very sweet liquor.

Wishstone requested a sweet fruit liquor, but the flesh is already sweet, so I wasn’t sure which was the right choice.

For juice, adding jewel berry sugar is a bonus, but overly sweet liquor might not be ideal.

“I’ll need a machine’s help. I’ve never seen a brewing machine, though. Can I make one with causality?”

“I’ll describe it,” Bernell said.

He stuck close, explaining kindly and in detail.

Fresh from bathing Pig-Bird, he smelled faintly of soap.

From his description, I pictured an all-in-one brewing machine:

A massive vat, large enough for three casks of liquor, with a long glass window marked with measurements to check the contents.

The top had three inlets for fruit, water, and additives. The bottom had two outlets: a fine-filtered one for clear liquid and a wide one for everything, each with a valve for control.

Inside, rotating blades aided crushing and mixing, and a heating device sat below for processes like beer brewing that require heat.

“We should add that, just in case.”

“But with aging casks, it’ll take up too much space…” I mused, scanning the café.

The central bar and kitchen dominated. In front, barstools and two tables lined the front window.

To the right, facing the bar, were Pig-Bird’s nest, a washroom, and the staircase to the second floor. To the left was the kids’ zone. Extra table space existed on both sides of the bar, but it wasn’t ideal for brewing equipment. It’d look cluttered.

No good spot.

Pondering, I moved to the kids’ zone, eyeing a wall by the kitchen that had always bugged me.

Tap tap. Knocking lightly, it sounded hollow. The café’s first floor was shaped like a 凵 from above, with an unnatural empty center.

Yet, from outside, the building was a perfect rectangle.

“No entrance to this empty space either.”

I decided to turn this unused area into a brewing zone.

I had seven measures of causality.

Focusing on using the kitchen’s back space, I sent causality toward it.

Whoosh. Two glowing measures flew to the bar, reassembling the space like a toy set.

“Whoa…”

The bar shifted forward, expanding and curving around the kitchen, allowing more guests.

The kitchen’s sink and fridge slid aside, rearranging, and a new doorless entrance appeared in the wall.

The secret space behind the kitchen opened.

In most cafés, such spots are staff break rooms or storage.

I won’t be surprised by magic anymore. If this isn’t magic, what is?

Excited, I stepped over the bar into the new space.

It was empty, with the original wooden floor, untouched by the café’s redecoration.

“Huh?”

In a corner sat a large, thick book with a rough cloth cover, familiar.

It resembled the dusty notebook I found on the bar when I first arrived, but less weathered.

I picked it up and opened it. Strange symbols on the pages startled me, then wriggled into readable Korean.

It was someone’s diary and ledger.

“Date: Today, I finally realized my dream. I poured everything into buying this tavern.”

Hahaha!

Suddenly, loud chatter from many people outside startled me.

Rushing out, I found the café gone. My new interior had reverted—not to its initial state, but to when the place thrived.

Bright lights, lively music. The bar and packed tables were filled with tipsy patrons.

“Master, this guy finally proposed to that lady! They want their wedding here, where they met!”

“Hunting was tough today. Ending the day at this tavern is my only joy.”

“The specialty pie here is amazing! Pack two for home!”

“Any letters or packages for me? From my mother back home.”

“My mom said to wait here with my brother while she shops. Can we sit there?”

The people shimmered like heatwaves, not solid, revealing this as an illusion.

As I thought, this was a tavern. And popular.

The tavern buzzed with life. Everyone seemed happy, stories blooming everywhere.

I recalled the notebook’s words:

A place etched with countless memories never truly vanishes.

This was a place cherished by many, drifting through time’s cracks.

Romantic.

The diary chronicled the tavern’s opening and daily life. Some entries were brief notes, always ending with tabs, ingredient costs, and daily earnings.

I felt the owner’s love and care for the tavern.

But as pages dwindled, the tone darkened.

“Date: The war worsened. The city’s no longer safe. Most residents left, and customers dwindled.”

The tavern’s scene shifted, dim and empty, with only a few somber patrons.

“I must abandon this beloved place and flee. This tavern was my life, my dream. It’s painful. But if even one guest visits, I’ll open for them, a sanctuary until the end.”

The final entry read: “Date: Everyone’s fled, and no guests come. The tavern closes. I leave, but I’ll never forget the joyful days here. May these memories linger, guarding this place. I hope laughter returns someday. To whoever takes over, may this be a place where all can share their troubles and rest. I, we, were here…”

My heart ached.

The tavern turned cold, reverting to the lonely, empty space I first saw.

Shhh. The illusion faded, and the cozy, warm Baby Bird Café returned.

Pig-Bird and Bernell stared at me, puzzled.

“Bernell, did you see the café change?” I asked.

They shook their heads.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Bernell said.

“Bbi bbi!” Pig-Bird chirped.

So only I saw the vision.

Was the diary the trigger? I glimpsed someone’s memories.

I didn’t see the owner. Maybe, as the current master, I synced with them briefly.

Their wish for laughter to return lingered.

Coincidentally, I’d taken over, making their final plea feel directed at me.

“I, we, were here…”

What heart wrote those words? I couldn’t fathom.

The words carried a poignant sting.

I’m running this café, carrying their hopes.

It’s no longer a tavern, but guests still bring stories.

Reading the diary, I wanted to run the café with more responsibility.

I placed the diary on the bar, opened the page after the owner’s last entry, and wrote:

Date Unknown: I, Kongyun, took over and opened Baby Bird Café. With Pig-Bird and Bernell, my two staff, I work. Until I leave, I want to make every guest happy.

The diary continues.

Different dimensions, different times, feel connected as one.