Chapter 1
A crisp, frosty Monday morning was slowly settling over the tiny town. Nestled deep among the woods, far from borders and bustling megacities, it seemed like the very definition of a slow, measured life. Dawn had not yet broken, but the air already held the quiet hum of a new week beginning. Fresh overnight snow sparkled in the warm glow of the streetlamps. Along the narrow paths trodden by early commuters, adults and children began to drift by. Everything moved without haste, flowing seamlessly — like a longship casting off, guided by the smooth, synchronous strokes of its oars.
Olli watched the passersby thoughtfully through the frost-rimed window of his modest studio apartment. He took his last sip and washed the mug. For a month now, the need to wake up early had been gone, yet a habit built over a decade refused to fade. Just like the fact that his morning brew failed to give him even a hint of energy. Olli washed his face with ice-cold water, massaged his shaved temples, and looked into the mirror. A pair of tired gray eyes stared back at him. The dark circles underneath were either due to naturally thin skin or the lingering toll of years spent sacrificing sleep and sanity to his career. The final touch to this aura of exhaustion was a light stubble, barely visible against his fair hair.
Stepping out of the tiniest bathroom he had ever seen, Olli crawled under his fluffy duvet. A firm mattress lay right on the floor, with a television looming directly opposite. It looked comically huge in the small studio—Olli had brought it along from the spacious capital apartment he used to rent before the layoffs. Still, thanks to a modest childhood and a natural penchant for minimalism, he hadn’t accumulated many belongings: just a couple of bags of clothes, the screen, and a dust-covered console. Olli had never chased after luxury, but he fiercely believed that hard work and knowledge always paid off. That was why being let go due to the meteoric rise of artificial intelligence hit him so hard. The purpose of his personal race—ten years of near-anime-level grit and late-night textbook grinds—had evaporated in an instant. His past thriftiness had worked like a safety net: the capital he’d saved over years of frugal living now generated a modest income. Barring any emergencies, it would be enough to cover a quiet, unassuming life in this peaceful town. Olli knew he was in a much better position than his spendthrift former colleagues, who found themselves in their early thirties jobless and drowning in debt. But there was another major difference: Olli was self-taught. He could have fought for his place under the sun once more, waking up at four in the morning to devour new knowledge. It was just that the sheer disappointment had drained him completely. For two weeks straight, he couldn’t even bring himself to boot up a video game. Instead, he mindlessly scrolled through an endless feed on a streaming service, trying to drown out the existential questions ringing in his head with the background noise of his smart TV, day and night.
That wasn’t to say Olli never left the house at all. On his very first day, the novelty of it all, paired with a faint desire to start anew—or at least grasp at some fresh purpose—had driven him to explore the neighborhood thoroughly. The town was tiny, so the walk didn’t take long, but Olli had returned home feeling genuinely inspired. He had even mapped out a running route, picked a gym to join, and spotted a cozy-looking place that was either a café or a bakery. He had even made a mental note, complete with a little gold star, about another peculiar spot: a time-worn, wooden drinking den that stubbornly refused to blend into the neat city landscape. Yet, that initial spark quickly fizzled out. Now, his rare ventures from the warm embrace of his duvet were strictly limited to the nearest grocery store. The blues had won.
A chime from his messaging app cut through Olli’s dreary train of thought, its sharp ping piercing the monotonous drone of yet another faceless pop-culture video. It was an old friend. The kind of friend almost everyone has. Someone you grow up with, side by side, since childhood. Someone with whom friendship feels inevitable, simply because your families have been close for generations. Years pass, and after graduation your paths naturally diverge, but the bond never breaks. You play video games together online, talk about movies and TV shows, and when you ask “how are things?“, you genuinely want to hear the answer rather than just trading polite pleasantries. For Olli, that friend was Niko.
“How’s the job hunt?” flashed onto the screen in a room lit only by the television. The habit of cutting straight to the chase, without beating around the bush, was one of Niko’s traits that Olli found more endearing than off-putting. And in that regard, his opinion rarely aligned with the majority.
“Nothing yet,” Olli typed quickly and hit send.
“But you were the one saying it’s better to keep working. Something about the economy, barista FIRE, and blah-blah-blah,” Niko wasn’t about to drop it that easily, of course.
“I know what I said,” Olli typed back with a hint of irritation.
“Stop drowning in self-pity. At least go to that café you were talking about.”
“I’m not sure it’s a café. Might be a bakery that happens to serve coffee.”
“You know exactly what I mean. The guy who spent his whole life prideful about being stubborn and relentless like a Hufflepuff can’t just step out for a cup of coffee? Don’t you find that funny yourself?”
“When was I ever prideful?”
“There you go again. I know how much you hate admitting you’re wrong. So let’s make a deal: I’ll get off your back, and you go to the café.”
“What if it really is a bakery where you just happen to grab a coffee?”
Receiving an angry sticker in response, Olli long-pressed the message, tapped a random emoji reaction, and smiled genuinely for the first time in a couple of weeks. As someone whose youth coincided with the era of absurd internet humor and sarcasm, he loved pushing people’s buttons with silly nitpicking. Even knowing it would cause irritation rather than a laugh.
Olli walked back to the window and scanned the small courtyard and the adjacent gas station. The street was thinning out, and the bicycles parked by the building had vanished—the Monday morning rush had passed its peak. The first rays of sun broke through the clouds, causing the frost patterns on the glass to spark and shimmer. The streetlamps flickered off, giving way to the brightening twilight. Being close to nature in these parts meant that squirrels and hares frequently wandered into the town limits. Today was just such a day: a wild rabbit was stealthily prowling across the gas station lot, keeping a vigilant eye out as if scouting enemy territory. Olli, a true lover of all things fluffy, took this as a good omen. Not that he believed in superstitions, but deep down, it was always nice to think that luck was on your side. Especially after everything that had unfolded over the past few weeks.
Like most people raised in the North, Olli possessed an enviable resilience to the cold, forged during a childhood spent knee-deep in endless snowdrifts. But that didn’t mean he was eager to trade the cozy warmth of his bed for the morning frost. Still, two weeks of cooped-up apathy could wear down even the most dedicated homebody. Olli lazily pulled on his jeans, threw on a heavy sweater, and began wrapping a scarf around his neck on the move, while simultaneously grabbing his boots and puffer jacket. Headed down to the first floor of the two-story building, he opened the door and squinted as a sharp gust of air hit him—the frost bit into his face with a familiar sting. Mentally cursing himself for trading a warm home for the freezing street, Olli trudged toward the shopping district.
The crisp winter air filled his lungs, and his body gradually warmed up from the brisk pace. His irritation dissolved, giving way to an unexpected surge of energy and a faint, almost childlike euphoria. The very atmosphere seemed infused with freshness, and as he neared the shopping streets, the scent of food mingled in—simple, yet prepared with love. Olli followed his familiar route and winced again, briefly mistaking a bronze statue on a bench for a real person. Letting out a breath, he noticed that a nearby square was decorated with ice and snow sculptures, and decided to take a closer look.
Back in his childhood, when his father was still alive, they had chanced to visit a similar exhibition. Olli always complained about having a poor memory, yet for some reason, he remembered that day in vivid detail. Funny little things still lingered in his mind. Like that random family standing by a sculpture called The Thinker. The mother had loudly proclaimed that the statue looked exactly like the father of their household, completely unaware of the artist’s irony: from the back of the ice block, you could peer inside the thinker’s “mind” and see a tiny ice figure of a man drinking alone at a table. Having finished his tour, Olli mentally lamented the fact that, for some reason, the Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon was missing from the exhibits, and continued on his way with a lighter heart.
Leaving the square, Olli turned the corner and reached his destination before even walking half a block. In a small town, everything was within a five-to-ten-minute walk. Fifteen minutes at most, but that was basically the edge of town. Like that little fast-food joint by the highway where locals often flocked at night, long after the exact same place downtown had closed. Besides, a walk right alongside the pine forest was a great way to burn some extra calories, breathe in the crisp air, and take in the soothing scenery.
Uncovering the truth of whether it was a café or a bakery had to be put on hold: Olli couldn’t find a sign anywhere outside. Stepping across the threshold, he saw a few low tables and a modest display case where fresh pastries and an espresso machine sat side by side. After waiting behind a queue of just one person, Olli ordered a regular black coffee and a cinnamon bun, then settled by the window to begin his unusually early breakfast.Whether it was some kind of coffee magic, a simple illusion, or the fact that he had been living on makeshift meals for the past two weeks, Olli felt himself gently drifting into nirvana. The aroma and flavor of what looked like an ordinary Americano warmed not just his body, but his soul, while the fluffy cinnamon bun perfectly complemented and highlighted this little gastronomic extravaganza. Naturally, Olli decided right then and there that one serving wouldn’t be nearly enough today. He was firmly determined to stay until he had completely satisfied this sudden craving for life’s simple pleasures.
The elderly man behind the counter didn’t seem to mind at all; in fact, he appeared quite pleased by such genuine enthusiasm. It was rare to see someone of his age working behind a storefront, so Olli assumed he must be the owner himself. Finally wrapping up his meal, he thanked the welcoming host and stepped outside. The combination of the midday sun, hot coffee, and hearty pastry turned the walk into pure bliss—the frost no longer felt biting. Olli decided not to rush home and opted to loop around the entire shopping block instead. By then, the streets had already been plowed and sprinkled with crushed granite, making the trek feel remarkably effortless compared to the morning’s trudge through the snowdrifts.
When he finally made it back home, Olli checked his smartphone. No new messages, just a couple of push notifications about the card transactions at the bakery-café. Olli rarely took his phone with him on walks—an unusual habit for a modern person, born out of a deep dislike for trivial interruptions. It annoyed him to be disrupted by a random call or text. But what he detested even more was when a person he was talking to would glance at their screen mid-conversation, making him wait. Olli sometimes worried if he was being a bit too petty about it, but ultimately reasoned that a desire to not dangle online twenty-four-seven could hardly be considered a bad habit. So, he left things exactly as they were.
After shooting Niko a quick “deal’s done,” Olli crawled back under his blanket and stared up at the ceiling. The television was uncharacteristically silent. Sunlight poured through the window, bathing the minimalist room in a soft glow, as a profound peace and quiet settled all around. Despite the early hour, Olli closed his eyes and surrendered to the oncoming drowsiness, drifting into a light, effortless sleep for the first time in a very long while.
