Long ago, in the Kingdom of Fiorence, a small café stood on the outskirts of Fioretura Village. It appeared to grow directly from the side of a white wisteria willow, its trunk so vast and winding that it seemed to have stood there for ages. Surrounding the café was a carefully curated garden, home to a vast variety of flora, as though a traveler had gathered seeds from distant lands to cultivate a living record of their journeys within the café’s grounds.

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Winding pathways of crystal and stone led through the garden, sheltered beneath archways draped in roses, wisteria, and glass wind chimes shaped like mythical creatures. Nestled along the outer edges of these arches were classically shaped beehives, carefully placed to minimize disturbance for those passing beneath. Nearby, the faint murmur of running water drifted through the air—a gentle stream feeding a small waterfall that continually refreshed a pond below, where large stones were stacked naturally into the crevice of a cliff side.

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This cliff served not only as a sheltered cove, but also housed an abundance of large mana crystals, which protected the garden and provided an elegant, ambient glow much like that of a greenhouse. Life flourished in every corner of the grounds, and the enchantment extended far beyond the garden itself. The surrounding forest shimmered with flecks of glowing, crystallized shelf mushrooms sprouting from soil and bark alike, creating a colorful yet calming spectacle—one that any traveler would feel blessed to behold.

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Opening the café doors beneath a gently swaying “OPEN” sign was a young druid, her vibrant blue eyes bright with quiet warmth. Long, shaggy, cotton-colored hair framed her face, concealing her pointed ears and gathered at the back by an oversized satin bow of rich brown.

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Her uniform was both practical and carefully styled: a dark brown leather under bust corset fastened at the abdomen with a single brass button, its straps haltering upward to connect to a choker-like collar at her neck. Beneath it, she wore a coffee-cream sweetheart-cut top with off-the-shoulder blouson sleeves, paired with an asymmetrically tied olive-green satin skirt layered over a lighter green cotton-burlap underskirt. A matching brown satin bow secured the ensemble at her right hip, ever so slightly revealing her bloomers.

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Strapped to her thigh below the bow was a medium-sized satchel, secured by two belts like a holster—perfect for holding ingredients or spare change—and complementing the bi-colored olive stockings that covered her legs. Completing the look were her handmade, paw-toed boots, protected by rich brown leather spats adorned with brass, leaf-shaped buttons running neatly up their sides.

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"Bee! Are we finally open" a voice beckons as a tall figure steps out, moving aside the branch of the willow tree cafe as they were walking toward her. It was clear they weren't human, as their large bat ears flicked atop their head and their tan hair garnered leaves and flowers. Their attire was crafted entirely from living, natural materials, grown and shaped with care to resemble a tailored waistcoat—an intentional blend of wild design and human fashion.

"Abso-loot-le-tootle-y" Bee giggles in response putting her hands on her hips confidently before waltzing over to the figure before her, and jumping to place a kiss on his cheek. Her arms resting on his shoulders so she can stay close to him on tip toe "Is my favorite dryad going to help me today?"

"Hmm, I don't know." He looked away from her slightly, a crooked smirk forming as he glanced at her from the side.

Bee made a false pout "Sylvis"

"I think I need another kiss to convince me" Sylvis teased and pulling Bee in closer by the waist.

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Bee squinted at him, continuing to pout with a false disdain for a short moment before squishing his cheeks between both her hands and placing a very intense peck on his lips. Both of them unable to hold back giggles before smiling to break it. 

"Yes, I am helping today" Sylvis smiled softly at the druid before pecking her forehead gently and ruffling her hair.

"Yay!" Bee exclaimed, and hopped excitedly. "I have some new recipes, so you have to be my test subject" She giggled while running into the cafe.

"Of course, my love. I am right behind you" Sylvis followed behind her, grinning gently from her silliness.
 

As the hours passed, the cafe became a lively crossroads for many different people. Its reputation extending far beyond the quality of its pastries and brewed drinks, for each item was carefully enchanted, imbued with potion effects ranging from restorative magic to lighthearted illusions. Nothing was served without purpose, and every creation held a touch of wonder. 

It was here that adventurers fresh from perilous journeys mingled with docile monsters seeking respite, and all were drawn by the promise of safety and comfort. One rule in particular being crucial to the establishment without exception: respect was both expected and returned in equal measure. Additionally, so long as fair coin or an equivalent trade was offered, any potion or pastry on the menu was available to those who asked.

Word of the cafe’s growing success eventually reached the ears of King Vincenz, a ruler known as much for his influence as for his disdain toward monster-kind. Curious to witness her creations firsthand, he extended a formal invitation—requesting that she both serve and partake in an upcoming banquet held within the castle walls. Though Bee had little fondness for grand gatherings, nor for the king whose views she quietly opposed, she recognized the opportunity before her. If nothing else, it was a chance to share her gift with the wider kingdom—and perhaps, in time, plant a seed of understanding where prejudice had taken root.

Arriving at the castle, Bee was greeted with a bright show of lights that danced off the stained glass windows. The castle itself was carved and crafted from the mana crystals of the land as a prideful show of the kingdom's wealth in magic. Despite the event taking place at night, the moonlight bounced off the mana crystals in a vibrant glow, and with the natural glow of mana, it seemed as if the kingdom couldn’t glow brighter.

She also tried her best to accentuate her features for the banquet, simplifying her usual attire for a dark blue, slim fit, sweet-heart cut, silk gown, with sleeves that gently drape off her shoulders and a thick choker necklace with a gemstone inlaid in the center. She wore her hair up of course, with a bow to match the deep blue of the dress. 

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The banquet proved lively beyond expectation. Guests delighted in Bee’s enchanted offerings, laughter echoing through the hall as party potions and pastries revealed their playful effects. Beauty buns lent a fleeting glow and refinement to one’s appearance, colorful croissants shifted hair into brilliant hues, and delicate morphing teas allowed patrons to briefly experience life as animals, fantastical beasts, or even inanimate objects. The room shimmered with magic and merriment, the court entertained as much by wonder as by novelty.

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As the evening wore on and the revelry softened into quiet conversation, King Vincenz began making his measured rounds, engaging guests in private exchanges amid the lingering glow of enchantment. When at last he reached Bee, his words were brief but deliberate. He praised her skill, then proposed that she abandon her forest café and bring her work within the kingdom’s walls—claiming her talents were wasted on forest fiends, and that conducting business among monsters was, in his view, far less proper.

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Bee listened in silence, her expression calm and unwavering. When she answered, her refusal was gentle but absolute.

The king did not argue with Bee’s refusal. He merely smiled, offered a courteous nod, and allowed the evening to conclude without further mention of the matter. By dawn, the banquet was already being praised as a triumph of novelty and delight, and Bee returned to the forest believing—perhaps foolishly—that the matter had been laid to rest.

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It had not.

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Under the cover of moonless night, steel found its way through the trees where laughter and kindness once lingered. Orders were given in hushed voices, and cloaked figures moved with cruel intent toward the cafe on the forest’s edge. Bee never saw the blade meant for her; only the sudden cold, the taste of iron, and the quiet betrayal of a kingdom she had hoped to soften. Her blood soaked into the roots of the ancient wisteria willow, and the garden she had so lovingly tended fell into stunned silence before being set ablaze.

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It was then, Sylvis felt a horrible disturbance. In a panic, he made his way to the cafe as fast as he could. Only to arrive with the flames at their peak. In one fell swoop, he snuffed the flames from the trees, and knelt beside his lover's body.

“No.” He spoke softly, holding her close as her breath faded, his hands trembling against bark and soil alike. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He whispered, as his tear fell to her lifeless cheek. “I won’t let this happen” 

Calling upon the oldest magic he possessed, Sylvis unraveled himself. His essence—roots, leaves, seasons, and soul—flowed into Bee like a rising tide. The forest shuddered as his power took hold, and where her soul had nearly left, his power pulled it back and merged with it into something far greater.

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Her eyes burned like a cerulean fire, her veins glowing with living mana. The garden awakened once again in violent bloom—vines lashed, crystals sang, and the air itself bent to her will. With grief sharpened into purpose, Bee turned her gaze toward Fiorence.

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By dawn, the castle halls were no longer stone but living wood and thorn. Courtiers fled as corridors twisted into glades and roots shattered marbled floors. King Vincenz met his end beneath a ceiling of blooming wisteria, judged not by crown or title, but by the cruelty of his heart. Bee’s vengeance was swift, final, and absolute.

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Where the kingdom once stood, a Fey Realm took root. Borders dissolved into mist, laws rewritten by moonlight and magic. Monsters and mortals alike were bound by a single truth now etched into the land itself: respect was not optional—it was law.

And at the heart of it all, beneath a white wisteria willow older than memory, stood a café once more—welcoming those brave, kind, or foolish enough to enter.