In the early light, the warm smell of fresh bread wrapped around every table. A porcelain jar spilled with sugar cubes sat next to a half-assembled buttercream cake. “Did you find the secret ingredient?” “I’ve been checking every jar, and the pecan extract is gone.” “Again? It was here just yesterday, on the highest shelf.” “Maybe someone mistook it for regular flavoring.” A soft crash echoed. The bell above the door jingled as a visitor hurried in. “I only came for a loaf of rye.” “You brought your own bag?” “Of course. No one trusts plastic these days.” A small feather drifted from the counter onto the floor. “What’s that doing here?” “Not part of the recipe. Unless we’re baking quills now.” They studied a smear on the counter. “Looks like coffee grounds.” “But it’s too fine for grounds. More like cocoa.” “A dark fingerprint pressed into the sugar bowl.” “Now that’s a clue.” They leaned closer over the scattered baking sheets. “Someone left a note, too: ‘The recipe hides in shadows.’” “That sounds more ominous than missing sugar.” “You think someone’s playing games?” “Or warning us. Better check the camera footage.” Outside, the wind rattled the windowpanes as the oven timer dinged softly.