The Baker 소설 & 이야기

"Exactly." A low chuckle comes from behind the counter as I push the glass door open. The shop smells of yeast, cinnamon, tea and sugar. An elderly man stands behind the display case, wiping his hands on a white apron. He has dark hair streaked with grey, soft grey eyes and a gentle smile that reaches his eyes. "For the young man who's the first customer of the day," The baker says, reaching into a glass jar and slides a small cinnamon across the counter toward Zane.

The scent in the air had changed and was filled with the scent of freshly baked pastries and exquisite food. We walked up to a pastry shop, and the baker took a look at me, winked at me and handed Lucy and me freshly made croissants. “Nothing like lovely food for two lovely ladies.” I blushed at his words and gesture and thanked him. Lucy had already started eating her and was pink in delight and joy. I turned and saw Alexa sulking behind us. The baker didn’t offer her anything, and I could see how angry and frustrated she was. “Maybe you should put on a smile next time, and maybe people would do things for you. You aren’t goin

He was a baker. "...I don't like to kill people or eat them so I decided to become a baker. My parents always used to feed me meat but I wanted to try something else. I got bored of that. That's why I decided to make something for me on my own when my parents weren't around. They wanted to make me like my name. Cruel and poisonous but I ran away." He said as the donuts were ready. The aroma was too soothing for my growling stomach that I wanted to dig in the very next second. But manners come first.

Kaelani’s hands knew the rhythm of kneading dough better than they knew the warmth of touch. The wooden counter beneath her palms was dusted in flour, the yeasty scent of rising bread clinging to the air. Behind her, the ovens hummed, filling the small bakery with the comforting perfume of sugar and spice. For five years, this place had been her sanctuary. A life she had built with her own hands — quiet, steady, safe. “Another batch of cinnamon honey cakes?” Tessa’s voice chimed from the front, playful as always. “You’re going to ruin my figure if you keep making those.”

Ha! “You got the baker, right? And everyone who were in charge of foods, drinks and all yesteday?” Selene gawked around, confused. “Yes I did. Why do you ask, brother?” “Where did you find this baker?” “I had looked her up on the Internet. She's one of the best out there.” My nose twitched. “One of the best! That's nice, really nice.” Selene appeared frightened. My countenance didn't help matters too. “What's the problem brother? What's happening?”

As I stood there, juggling a basket baskets of cinnamon rolls, a muffin and the cake still on the counter, I let out a slow breath through my nose. The baker was too busy wiping at his eyes with his flour-dusted apron. "A Friend," the man whispered again, like it was some kind of miracle. I shifted the weight in my arms, wondering if leaving without another word would be rude. Probably. The baker sniffled, then patted my arm like a proud father. “You were so small and grubby before. Look at you now… you have a friend and less grubby” I rolled my eyes. “I’m taking the cake and leaving.”

“Wait until you see the amount of work we have to do.” Adrian leaned casually against the counter, watching her with a faint smile. “She’s been up since five, planning the menu.” Mrs. Alden shot him a mock glare. “And what were you doing at five, Mister Sleepy Baker?” “Guarding the flour,” he said smoothly, “from suspicious raccoons.” She laughed, shaking her head. “Don’t listen to him, Lena. He’s been here since dawn, too. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

My sacrifice became a duty, and Maeve’s survival became more important than mine and I faded into the background. The cake in front of me was just the latest proof. On our shared birthday, I didn't even exist. The baker, a young woman in her twenties, glanced between us before offering a small, professional smile to my family. “Why don’t we test the flavor samples before we finalize everything?”

He added like a father who was just casually talking to his children. “Good morning sir...” Ethan greeted promptly. At the sight of the man’s appearance, his brow slowly arched in confusion. “My girlfriend likes to have your tequila strawberry cake, please...” he added politely and tried to evoke a friendly smile at the baker. “Sure young man, that stuff was made by my wife...” the baker smiled lovingly at the mention of his wife. He looked affectionate as he pointed at the empty table nearby. “Please take a seat first...” he added and took out the specific pastry that Ethan had ordered.

“Maybe Hannah didn’t make any this year?” Molly frowned as she thought about her best friend forgetting to bring the shop’s signature cookie platter. She'd never forgotten before. Hannah Johnson was the town’s resident baker and owned her own shop just a few doors down. “Hannah wouldn’t forget. She might be a little late, but she’d never—”