“The café’s empty and the barista is restocking in the back!” he said, pouting. “It’s the perfect time!”
“Security cameras!” I said, feeling like I’d turned into Hyebin.
“The one facing us isn’t recording!” Yejun said, looking over his shoulder at the one pointed at us. “See, there’s no blinking red light like on the other one. This isn’t my first time around the block, Yang.”
He took another step forward, extending his hand. “The year 2016, April 1, 7:59:59,” he said.
It was a bad idea. I waited for Hana to reach out through the timeline and yank my hair for being reckless, or for Hyebin’s Echo to burst in and pull me away for a mission, or at least for my heartto clench in fear. But there was no one here but me and Yejun, his outstretched hand glittering with blue light as he waited for my answer.
“Hurry up, before the barista comes back,” he said.
Before I could answer, his magic spiraled around his hand, blue light in tattered ribbons whispering toward me. It wasn’t until something purple flashed by my vision that I realized my own magic was awakening in my palm as well, purple tendrils stretching out toward Yejun.
I lifted my hand experimentally, and thin threads of both of our magic reached out to each other, twisting together into an indigo braid. Even though I wasn’t touching Yejun yet, his heartbeat echoed through me, his thoughts tangled like ivy around my own, his dreams lay out before me as bright as summer constellations in a clear sky. His magic reeled me in, and before I could stop myself, I clasped my hand around his and the world fell quiet.
It was as if I’d slipped beneath the cool surface of a pond—his magic swallowed every sound, the real world suddenly a thousand miles away. The walls of the cafédissolved, the tiled floor crumpled beneath my feet, and an endless expanse of violet light suspended us in its warm infinity. There was nothing in this quiet world except for me, and Yejun, and the light singing through us.
For the first time in my life, it felt easy to exist. It was as if the timeline had finally stopped rejecting me and I’d returned to my origin point after a long voyage. The moment felt inevitable, like every timeline had converged in this brief, delicate second. No matter what changes the descendants made to the timeline, it would always bend and twist to bring me back here.
This had never happened when traveling with Hyebin. I probably should have been worried, or at least questioned it. But as Yejun smiled and tightened his grip around my hand, I didn’t want to dissect the moment with theories or questions. I just wanted to behere, the way flowers and trees and mountains simply existed without needing to justify it.
Blue light wrapped in ribbons around us, time whispering through the air in all directions. I held tight to Yejun’s hand as the timeline breathed us in.
We arrived in front of a caféwithBLUE BUNNYin teal bubble letters above the door. The sun had come out, the smog had cleared away, and the little bell above the door jingled as an employee unlocked the door. The smell of bread wafted over me in a warm haze.
As the last of our time magic fizzled out, I became sharply aware of my hand still gripping Yejun’s, our fingers tangled together, the sweat between our palms.
“Mina,” Yejun said, “I—”
But I was terrified by whatever he was going to say next, so I tore my hand away and stuffed it into my pocket.
I knew—because for a brief moment I had known all of his heart—that Yejun had felt the same strange connection that I had.
But he was still Kim Yejun, the annoyingly smug rogue traveler who had forced his way into my life and was ruining my infiltration missions. Our magic had reacted strangely together, but that didn’t mean anything. No one really understood the intricacies of time magic.
“What did you want to show me?” I said, examining the display case of fake croissants and macarons instead of looking at Yejun.
I pretended not to notice how his reflection stared at me in the display window for a moment too long. Then he shook his head and opened the door. “Come on,” he said, greeting the staff and holding the door open for me—two things he wasn’t supposed to do while time traveling—but the cafésmelled good enough that I didn’t want to waste our few minutes here arguing about it.
“Pick whatever you want,” Yejun said as the door swung shut behind him, “but I recommend the croffle.”
“Croffle?” I said, frowning at the cream-and-fruit-covered waffles in the display case.
“Croissant waffle,” Yejun said. “This shop specialized in them.” He leaned closer, switching to Japanese and whispering in my ear. “They went out of business in 2017. I haven’t been able to find a croffle as good as theirs since then. It’s like my Moby Dick.”
“A croissant bit off your leg?” I said.
“Croffle,” Yejun corrected. “You want one or not? They sell out fast.”
What I wanted more than anything was to obliterate the last three minutes from my memory, but since I couldn’t have that, free pastries would have to suffice.
“Two croffles, please,” I said to the cashier, then stepped aside so Yejun could pay.
As much as I wanted to buy one of everything in the pastry case, my sweet tooth wasn’t a good enough reason to cause ripple effects. Just being here was already risking…
A spike of dread lanced through me. I gripped Yejun’s arm, squeezing a pained sound out of him. “Won’t this mess up the timeline?” I whispered.
He handed the cashier a 10,000 won note and shook his head. “I already ran this scenario. Effects should be minimal.”
