BREW

Counting all his earnings, Valen was barely making enough to survive. Yesterday, he hadn't crossed over into the other world—too busy selling street food and adjusting to his new routine. Now, the sun had set and his last skewer was gone.

"Since I sold out early, maybe I'll visit that world again tonight."

He cleaned up his makeshift cart quickly and headed home. On the way, he bought a cheap kitchen knife from a roadside vendor.

"Better be ready than helpless."

Once home, he tidied up his belongings and settled in. Closing his eyes, he focused on the familiar feeling—he let his mind drift into exhaustion, into the desire to escape. Soon, the temperature began to drop. A stillness crept in. The air thickened.

"Here we go again," he muttered.

The world blurred, and the eerie realm wrapped itself around him once more. Though his house looked the same, something felt... off. This time, however, a small pile of coffee beans lay near the door. He crouched to inspect them—dirt still clung to their surface.

"Where did you come from?" he whispered, rinsing the beans under the faucet. "Still giving me beans, huh? At least I've got something to test."

Instead of grinding them, he decided to try something new—boiling the beans whole.

He lit the LPG stove, filled an iron pot with tap water, and let it boil. Once bubbling, he dropped in the beans and covered it with the glass lid. Moments passed, and the liquid inside began to darken. Through the glass, the beans twitched.

Then trembled.

Then violently shook.

One by one, the beans popped like popcorn, bursting open and oozing blackness. After 15 minutes, all motion stopped.

He lifted the lid. Inside was no longer water—just a thick, black liquid, sluggish and gleaming like oil.

He moved to stir it, but the moment his spoon hovered above, the liquid twitched. On its own.

He paused.

It stilled again.

"Looks like a failed experiment..." he muttered, unnerved. He tried pouring it down the sink, but the liquid clung to the basin, refusing to move. Disgusted and spooked, he flung the pot's contents outside instead.

He didn't dare taste it.

Next came his chocolate experiment. On his way home earlier, he had bought a cheap chocolate candy and now mixed it into his standard brew. It tasted sweeter than usual—pleasant even—but no immediate effects. He sipped again, waiting.

"Is this one a dud too?"

Just before dumping it out, he noticed the leftover water in his sink begin to harden, turning from liquid to a glassy black solid.

"What the...?"

To confirm his suspicion, Valen filled a container with water and dropped in more chocolate brew. As the mixture thickened, it solidified rapidly—hard as stone. He jabbed it with his knife. Not even a scratch.

He scribbled the results into his notebook.

Chocolate Brew: Effect – Liquid Solidification.

He had just begun cleaning up, thinking if his fluids in body is immune to the effect when a knock broke the silence.

Valen froze.

Another knock.

This time slower. Softer.

He grabbed the knife. His knuckles whitened around the handle.

Then a voice—a child's voice—spoke, but the words were incomprehensible.

His spine stiffened.

An anomaly.

But then, the voice tried again—this time, clearer.

"Is anyone here? I didn't came with bad intentions…"

His heart sank, but he didn't let go of the knife. Carefully, he moved toward the door. With a deep breath, he twisted the knob and cracked it open.

Standing there was a girl. Maybe seven years old.

Or… something pretending to be.

Her body was painfully malformed—eyes set unnaturally far apart, shoulders hunched with an exaggerated scoliosis, and legs uneven to the point that even standing seemed to hurt her. A tattered hood hung over her head, covering her from scalp to waist, like a veil soaked in sorrow.

Her voice, fragile and trembling, reached him again.

"Mister…? Do you still have that scent? The one that smells like warmth?"

Valen's blood ran cold. Not just from fear—but pity.

She wasn't like the others.

This one… felt real.