Paris unfolded around Noé in a way that felt endlessly new, no matter how many times he walked its streets. The ironwork balconies caught the light just right, the chatter of voices blurred together in a warm, living hum, and the scent of the city—stone, perfume, smoke, sugar—layered itself into something almost intoxicating. He had been given a task. He was fairly certain of that. Something important, too. But somewhere between turning one corner and stopping to watch a street performer juggle flaming batons with a grin too wide to be sensible, the purpose of his errand had quietly slipped away.

It didn’t bother him much.

Hôtel Chouchou wasn’t far, he reasoned, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he wandered. If he got lost, he could always ask for directions. Or follow the general feeling of familiar back. That usually worked. And even if Vanitas complained—well, Vanitas always complained. Noé had learned that bringing back something interesting tended to soften the blow. A ribbon, a curious coin, a mechanical trinket that whirred when you twisted it just right. Proof that he hadn’t been entirely unproductive.

A sharp, irritated meow cut through his thoughts.

“Murr,” Noé murmured fondly, glancing down at the white cat padding after him with its tail flicking in clear annoyance. “I know, I know. I’ll be careful.”

The promise barely had time to settle before a new scent drifted through the air—warm bread, butter, sugar caramelizing just at the edges. Noé stopped dead.

His eyes lifted slowly, widening as he took in the bakery ahead. Golden light spilled through the windows, illuminating neat rows of pastries like tiny works of art. Steam fogged the glass faintly, and somewhere inside, a bell chimed as the door opened for another customer. Noé’s breath caught, genuine awe washing over his expression as if he’d stumbled upon something sacred.

“Oh,” he whispered, already veering off course.

Murr let out another meow, sharper this time, as Noé crossed the street without a second thought, gaze fixed on the display. Croissants layered like folded sunlight. Tarts jeweled with fruit. Cakes so precise they almost didn’t look real. He leaned closer, hands hovering near the window, completely absorbed—so absorbed that he didn’t notice the figure stepping into his path until it was far too late.

There was a soft but solid thump as he collided with someone.

“Oh—!” Noé stumbled back a step, blinking rapidly as he refocused, purple eyes finally settling on the person he’d run into. His face flushed almost immediately. “I—I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going, I just—” He trailed off, clearly flustered, glancing briefly back at the bakery as if caught in the act before forcing his attention back to you.

Murr circled his ankles with a low, unimpressed huff.

Noé straightened, offering an earnest bow of his head, concern written plainly across his features. “Are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”