I stared at the pact in my hands—a single page, short and simple, no tricky fine print to wade through.
Compared to the thick job contracts I’d seen back ho, this was a walk in the park.
Almost too easy. I didn’t know much about this stuff, though, so when it ca ti to sign, I froze, thumb hovering over the paper.
“What’s wrong? Don’t trust it?” said one of the seniors.
“Chill, the academy checks these things. If we tried slipping in anything sketchy, we’d be the ones in hot water. It’s just a part-ti job—no way we’re dumb enough to ss with you. The manager would kill !”
Her words eased up. After a bit more prodding, I scratched my na—Yang Yuehan—across the bottom.
The second I did, the paper lit up like it’d been soaked in gas.
A quick flash of fire, a flicker, and poof—it was gone. No ash, no trace. Just , jumping back with a little yelp.
Then, boom—every detail from that pact popped into my head, sharp and clear. All I had to do was think about it, and there it was, like a note stuck in my brain.
“Spooked you, huh?” one senior laughed from the side, arms crossed. “That’s how pacts work. Bet you’ve got it all locked in your head now, right?”
The two of them just hung out there, watching sign like it was no big deal. And honestly, it didn’t look like they had much else going on—no custors had shown up the whole ti. How did this place even stay open?
But that pact? It stole the spotlight. What kind of magic was this? Imagine if I could slap hard study notes onto a pact and burn them into my mory like that.
Too bad I had no idea how it worked—or if I could cheat the system. If it was that simple, everyone would be doing it, right? Guess I didn’t need to overthink it.
“Oh, hey, saw your signature,” Ying Shiqian said, pulling out of my thoughts. “Yang Yuehan, right? Let’s do intros. I’m Ying Ying Shiqian—call Senior Ying if you want. And this is Tang Yihan.” She nodded at her buddy, who gave a lazy wave.
“Tang Yihan. Senior Tang’s fine,” Tang Yihan said, leaning on the counter.
“Oh, yeah, Senior Ying works for too,” Ying Shiqian added, her grin growing. “So, Yang Yuehan—got a nickna? Little Yang? Yuehan? Sothing fun?”
“Just Yuehan’s good,” I said fast, brushing off the extras. No need to get creative.
“Cool—Yuehan it is!” Ying Shiqian giggled, clearly having a good ti. “Hey, you’re officially on board now. Ti to set you up with a uniform and a ticard. Punch in when you get here—pay’s by the hour, so don’t skip it.”
She bounced up, already heading to grab whatever I’d need. Then she stopped, looking back. “Oh, you free right now? You could clock in and start today if you’re up for it.”
“Free? Oh, hell yeah, I’m free!” I nodded so quick I almost tweaked my neck. With the shop this quiet, it was basically free cash—just standing around, money piling up. Where else was I gonna score a gig this easy?
Plus, there was a bonus I hadn’t even noticed until now: employees could take ho expiring bread and snacks. And during shifts? Free food—anything in the shop.
Sure, you were stuck with what was there, but if I went full shaless and grabbed the pricey stuff, who’d care? As long as the manager didn’t walk in and catch chowing down, I was set. This job was basically paradise.
Ying Shiqian didn’t ss around. She ca back with a small badge—my punch-in key—and slid it across the counter. “Here you go. Clock in with this.”
I picked it up, flipping it over in my hands.
The bakery ran from seven a.m. to eight p.m., and I could swing by anyti in between.
Part-ti ant I had to hit a minimum number of hours a week—nothing wild, just enough to count. No base pay, no full-ti perks—just straight hourly wages. Worked for .
“Yuehan, co here a sec—let’s pick out your uniform,” Ying Shiqian said, handing my badge before diving back into action. “If we’ve got your size, you won’t need a custom one.”
I glanced at the uniforms she and Tang Yihan were rocking: short-sleeved red tops, crisp and simple, paired with half-aprons that flared out like skirts. Cute, functional, and—best part—easy to throw on. No fussing with buttons or zippers. Perfect for a gig like this.
I trailed after Senior Ying to the back, where a bigger-than-expected changing area opened up. Neat stacks of folded uniforms sat in a cabinet, looking way too organized for a place this chill.
“Senior Ying, why’s there so many uniforms?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of . What I really wanted to say was: You two are the only ones here—why the stockpile? And all different sizes? But I kept it ta.
“Oh, these are leftovers from old staff—freshn who worked here before bouncing,” she said casually, already rummaging through the cabinet. “I rember one girl who was about your size. Hang on, I’ll dig it out.”
I stood off to the side, not wanting to ss up her flow. Wearing hand--downs? Fine by . It’s just a work outfit, not my everyday gear. Plus, at Witch School, I hadn’t spotted a single senior who wasn’t at least kinda hot—used uniforms weren’t exactly a downgrade.
“Got it!” Ying Shiqian pulled out a set and handed it over. “Here, Yuehan—give it a shot.”
I took it, running my fingers over the fabric. Spotless, no weird slls—honestly, it looked brand-new. Weird, considering it’d been stashed in a plain old cabinet. Then I flicked on my Psi-vision, and there it was: a faint hum of transcendence energy swirling around. So spell I didn’t understand was keeping these threads pristine. Cool.
“Thanks,” I said with a quick nod, ready to try it on.
“Hang on—I’ll grab a couple more options. Take your ti testing them out,” Ying Shiqian said, tossing a grin. “Oh, and this cabinet? It’s yours now for stashing your uniform. I’m heading out—see ya!”
She bolted before I could respond, and I smirked to myself. Probably figured I’d be shy about changing with her around—top off, apron on, the whole deal. Fair guess.
Senior Ying was pretty thoughtful, huh? Total big-sister energy.
Alone now, I slipped into the uniform. The red top went on smooth, and once I tied the half-apron around my waist, I felt this random surge—like I could storm the kitchen and whip up a storm.
Too bad I didn’t know jack about baking. I could stir-fry like a champ, though—sha that skill was useless here.
I tugged at the collar, checking myself out. The red was deeper than I’d expected—less fire-engine, more burgundy. Classy, almost.
But sothing was off. I glanced at Tang Yihan earlier—she’d had a hat. Where was mine?
Stepping out of the changing room, I felt a little stiff, my steps hesitant.
Showing off a new look to them wasn’t the sa as goofing around with Bai Yu. My comfort zone was still a work in progress.
“Whoa, Yuehan, you’re killing it!” Ying Shiqian called out, her voice bouncing with approval as I erged.
“Right? And I picked it out,” she added, puffing up like she’d just won a prize.
Tang Yihan snorted, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please—all the uniforms are the sa style. What’re you fishing for credit for?”
“Fishing for credit’s my right!” Ying Shiqian shot back, smirking. “anwhile, Tang Yihan, why don’t you go wrestle your dough or sothing?”
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