Fated to The Last Fenrir

In a bustling, noisy city that never slept, one apartment balcony held a secret. High above the traffic and din, a dense garden grew, creating a vibrant, peaceful sanctuary. Birds and sparrows happily chirped, familiar with the vines and branches that stood out from the sterile tall building.

Within this quiet wonder stood Gwyneth Windsor, focusing all her attention on the plants.

"Your pot's a bit damp." Gwyneth paused in front of a small pot, carefully checking the soil. Her brows crinkled with concern.

"It seems you're uncomfortable, sweetie? I'll get you a cozy one later," she said, tapping it gently before putting it down.

To an outsider, the balcony might have looked chaotic, but to Gwyn, it was all in perfect, guiding order. She knew the position of every pot and the exact day each flower would bloom.

A gentle alarm broke her concentration. As if on cue, she stood up, removed her gloves, and put her tools down.

'7:00 AM. Time to go.'

Before leaving the balcony, she carefully put a handful of grains on the handrail, where birds were already flocking and pecking. After a satisfied smile, she turned back inside.

The apartment was simple and clean. The notable thing was the display of wooden carvings scattered around the place: lifelike animal figurines, big and small, all arranged precisely. The space felt timeless, almost as if you had stepped into a small sanctuary designed for nature.

Gwyneth took a quick scan of the room, put on a coat and her usual baggy clothes, and headed out into the crowded, chaotic city.

Gwyn hated the loud noises and the smell of damp air, but she didn't wear a mask or headphones. That would make her different from the rest, and she hated "being different."

The walk to the corner cafe, her usual first stop, was short. Gwyneth slipped inside, grateful for the familiar, hushed space. As soon as she came in, it was as if a pause button had been pushed. A few customers froze mid-sentence. A staff member preparing to welcome a new customer stood frozen, mouth gaping.

Gwyneth did not notice the stir. She was trapped in her mind, thinking of the day ahead, and quietly stood at the back of the short line. Her dark hair was pulled back simply, framing a delicate face. Her pale skin seemed to glow softly in the dim light, making her appear almost dream-like. Her wide, soft doe eyes took in the world with a gentle innocence, completely unaware of the quiet wonder she caused.

She stood patiently, practicing what she would say.

'Melina probably wants a change of taste. Will she like a caramel macchiato? I don't like it hot, but that's okay.'

Her expression was calm and serious. She carried her balcony's peace with her, a bubble of calm in the morning rush.

"Good morning, Miss Gwyn!" Gina, the manager, chirped. "The usual?"

"Good morning, Gina. Yes, please," Gwyneth replied, mirroring the tone with a small smile. But then she paused.

'Oh no, that's not what I wanted to order. She won't be mad if I change it, right?'

She nervously fidgeted with her hands, staring helplessly at the staff.

As if sensing her panic, Gina looked up and met her large, pleading eyes.

"What's the matter? Do you want something different today?" Gina asked gently.

Gwyneth secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes, please. Will that be okay?"

"Absolutely! What do we want for this week's coffee?" Gina asked, grinning.

"Oh, do you want one as well?" Gwyneth asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Ah, no, no," Gina said, followed by a light chuckle. "I mean, what would you like to order?"

"I want two caramel macchiatos, please. One large and one small," she replied, her eyes widening slightly in confusion.

Gina nodded, marked the cups, and went to prepare the drinks.

Gwyneth watched her move behind the counter, subconsciously hopping from one foot to another—a small habit she had when she was happy.

Her attention then switched to the condiment counter. Her smile slowly vanished, replaced by intense focus. The sugar packets were in a total mess. Her fingers twitched.

As she waited, she drifted to the counter. Her hands darted out, quickly sorting the white, pink, and blue packets into three perfect, straight lines. She then straightened the stack of napkins.

The new barista, who had been staring, hurried over, his face flushed. "Oh, miss! You don't have to do that, I can..."

"Shh," Gina whispered, nudging him hard in the ribs. "Let her. It's just her way. She's our 'unofficial morning organizer.'"

The new barista stared, fascinated, as she finished arranging the display, lost in her own world.

"She's... wow," he whispered back.

Gina grinned. "Right? Like something out of a fairy tale. Just don't expect her to notice you. She's in the zone."

"Two caramel macchiatos are ready, calling Miss Gwyn!" Gina called out cheerfully.

Gwyneth's head shot up, her organizing task complete. A look of quiet satisfaction was on her face as she walked to the counter and took the coffees.

She flashed a grateful smile at them both.

"Thanks, as always."

The new barista felt his heart do a little flip-flop. "You're... you're most welcome, Miss Gwyn! Have a great day!" he blurted out.

Gwyneth just gave him the same polite, calm smile before walking smoothly out the door. The bell on the door tinkled, breaking the spell on the customers who had been watching.

Once outside, Gwyneth focused on her next task: navigating the sidewalk. She held the two cups carefully, one for her and one for Melina, and kept her eyes down to avoid the jostling crowd. She made it to the bus stop just in time. The short ride was a familiar blur, and soon she arrived at her destination.