Six in the morning.

  The sky was still pale, like the day wasn’t sure it wanted to begin. My parents were already on their way to work—the silence in the house confirmed it.

  I got up without rushing and stood for a moment, staring at my desk. Everything looked normal. Neat.

  Except for a feeling I couldn’t explain.

  Now the house felt strangely unfamiliar, as if I’d been gone for years and had only just returned.

  I decided it was a good idea to leave a note, in case my mom came into my room and realized I wasn’t home.

  Studying at Haruka’s for a couple days.

  That was enough. No details.

  Haruka had been my childhood friend, and she didn’t live far. We’d studied together plenty of times—no one would question me staying over for a few days. Besides, her mom worked from home, which meant fewer unnecessary worries for my parents.

  Before leaving, I went to the kitchen for coffee. The machine started to purr and release that unmistakable smell, filling the room with a warm, toasted perfume that had followed me through so many long nights of studying.

  The steam rose in spirals that almost looked like invisible constellations.

  I drank it at the perfect temperature and looked out the window. The trees were already showing hints of their green fading.

  The end of summer was coming. Slow. Inevitable.

  Cycles never end. They only shed their skin.

  I remembered the line without knowing where it came from.

  I slung my bag over my left shoulder. Inside I packed a bottle of water, an orange, a chocolate bar, and a can of tuna.

  It was an absurd list for a magical journey.

  But it calmed the practical part of my brain.

  I left the house twenty minutes before seven. The cool morning air greeted me with that soft murmur every new day carries—like a promise you’re not sure you can trust yet.

  It would take me another hour to reach the forest, and another to cross it to the lake. I walked the same route I’d taken a hundred times in my life.

  The man at the library was cleaning the entrance. When he saw me, he smiled wide and greeted me with a respectful nod.

  I smiled back and waved. He knew me well—when I was little, I was basically a library mouse. Years had passed since I’d checked out a book, and still… his eyes recognized me instantly.

  For a moment, I thought that if I told him where I was going, he wouldn’t even be surprised.

  Maybe he’d seen things too. Things other people prefer not to talk about.

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  I kept walking until I reached the forest’s edge.

  When I arrived, the landscape hit me with something ambiguous—familiar, but loaded with a presence I couldn’t name. The trees rose like columns in an ancient temple, and the mist on the ground looked like it was holding its breath.

  My steps stopped.

  I froze at the forest’s natural entrance.

  My muscles refused to obey. The memory of what had happened before came rushing back—the water, the mask, the choking panic. My forehead was damp. My lips were dry. My hands trembled.

  If you go in, there’s no going back, I told myself, trying to sound brave.

  Fear settled in.

  But beneath it was something deeper—

  certainty.

  I had to keep going.

  “I was sent to fetch you, weakling.”

  It took me a second to process that familiar voice.

  “I don’t have all day,” Zenhaff said, already stepping into the forest with that elegant, mocking feline stride. “Are you coming or not?”

  Relief loosened something in my chest. I smiled and followed her before she vanished between the trees.

  It was the perfect chance to ask more.

  “And tell me, Zen—”

  “No.” She cackled. “Sorry—I couldn’t resist. You should’ve seen your face.” Her tail flicked. “Fine. You can ask questions. Three. Don’t abuse my kindness.”

  I had to make them count. Something general, or something sharp and specific? Were there things she’d refuse to answer?

  As I weighed it, the sound of leaves crunching beneath our steps blended with the cool forest air.

  “We’re halfway there,” she said, ears turning toward me. “If you’re going to ask, do it soon.”

  “Okay.” I took a breath. “First question: who are you really, and what’s your relationship with Mr. Toshihiro?”

  Zenhaff tilted her head without slowing.

  “I’m Zenhaff. We’re friends.”

  I stared at her. “Are you messing with me?”

  “I can’t help it,” she laughed softly—then her voice shifted into something steadier. “Since I have the honor of being your first question, I’ll answer properly.”

  Silence stretched after that. Only the wind whispering through branches filled it.

  “We’ve known each other for many years,” she said at last. “Maybe even before your grandmother was born. He fulfilled a promise that was difficult to keep. We became very good friends.” She glanced at me. “As for me… I’m just a simple mage who’s been lucky enough to meet good people on her path.”

  My expression clearly didn’t satisfy her, because she continued.

  “I come from an old clan of mages whose strength comes from the moon.”

  A beat.

  “That’s all you need to know for now.”

  “Mmm.” I forced a nod. “Fine. That’s enough.”

  “You don’t have to pretend you believe me,” she said, amused. “I can see the doubt.”

  Her voice was playful, but something deeper shone in her eyes—an old nostalgia that felt far too human for a cat.

  “Okay,” I said. “Second question: what is Nebenbei, really? And why do people say it’s forbidden to humans?”

  Zenhaff slowed. Her ears moved with caution, her tail swaying in a measured rhythm, like she was choosing her words with care.

  “Nebenbei is a bridge,” she said. “Some call it a bazaar. Others call it a portal. But in truth it’s a place that shouldn’t exist—neither in this world nor the other.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s a breath between dimensions. A pause between the universe’s heartbeats.”

  I walked beside her, trying to fit the meaning into my mind.

  “It’s been closed for centuries,” she continued, “because it’s dangerous to humans.”

  “Why?” My voice dropped without meaning to.

  “Because humans are… special.” Zenhaff’s tone sharpened just a little. “I’m sure Toshi already warned you: with magic, every decision has a price.”

  She glanced back at me.

  “Nebenbei is the same. It wasn’t made for humans.”

  A chill slid down my spine.

  I inhaled slowly.

  “And my last question…” I didn’t want to waste it. “Why did Mr. Toshihiro accept me as an apprentice? What’s special about an ordinary girl like me?”

  Zenhaff stopped completely.

  Then she leapt onto a low branch, landing with effortless grace until she was at eye level with me. Her face hovered inches from mine.

  “Ordinary?” she repeated, the corner of her mouth twisting. “You’re many things, Maki. But ordinary isn’t one of them.”

  Her silver eyes lit with something warm—and dangerous.

  “Toshi saw something in you that you still can’t see in yourself.”

  My throat went tight.

  “Mages don’t choose at random,” Zenhaff continued. “He’s spent centuries turning apprentices away…”

  The forest seemed to hold its breath.

  “Which means,” she said, and her smile turned playful again, “you’re either his greatest success…”

  She paused. Lowered her voice.

  “…or his most dangerous mistake.”

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