The bell above the door tinkled as dawn light poured over wooden shelves. Fresh loaves of honey wheat and rye lined the display, and the sweet aroma of cinnamon buns hung in the air. Flour dust drifted on a stray beam, settling like powdered sugar. "Did you notice that the red velvet cupcake was gone before opening?" "Same time every day, just when I lock up." She slid a hand over the marble counter, its surface cool and spotless. "Maybe someone just wanted a midnight snack." "But why only the one with the ivory sugar rose?" Her gaze dropped to tiny scratches along the windowsill. "Looks like someone tried to open this pane from outside." A hush fell as the mixer finished its cycle, the metallic clang echoing. "No footprints in the sugar outside." "But I found this after I swept." A small scrap of paper drifted across the counter: a hastily scrawled address, shifting from neat loops to jagged lines. "Think it’s a meeting spot?" "Only one way to find out." The mixer started again, its low rumble a promise of new pastries—and perhaps new secrets waiting to rise.