Coffee Stained Pages. Part 3

Translator Lilla Somn

Translator DeepSeek

Cover designer Lilla Somn

© Lilla Somn, 2026

© Lilla Somn, translation, 2026

© DeepSeek, translation, 2026

© Lilla Somn, cover design, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0069-2090-3 (т. 3)

ISBN 978-5-0067-1890-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Light 39. How to Have Fun When You’re Ami

Ami opened her eyes.

Rain drummed softly against the entrance drape.

…She felt utterly drained.

The thought of getting up to face the light was ghastly.

She believed she could’ve slept through a minor cycle. Or until this whole wretched period of her life was over. Without her having to lift a head or even a finger.

Who would have thought that living a dream would be so heavy?

…Still. Best haul herself up and devise… some way to cheer up. Maybe.

Something to encourage her not to stay in bed for a minor cycle.

The Kantinian somehow managed to heave herself halfway up the bed… only to flop back down with a groan of relief.

And stay like that a while longer.

…Why get up? Why go to work? Why… anything?

What was the point in perpetuating this?

“Work gives food and shelter. That simple.”

For… what? Nothing in it compensated for the drudgery. No joy was worth it. Existence on a lightly basis sucks.

It had been this dreary so far. What was there to bank on?

“For a guaranteed fresh disappointment. To snatch as much knowledge and experience as possible before those punches finally break you. Just do it. You know.”

Stubbornness and curiosity. Very reasonable.

“Get up.”

A second attempt was almost successful. At least she slid right off the bed and ended up sprawled on the dusty floor. Well, she wasn’t under the blanket anymore.

She hauled herself weakly onto all fours and wearily crawled towards the washbasin.

“Don’t stop. You’ll ponder en route.”

She’d probably have to crawl halfway across town to work like this, too. What a light to be alive.

The weary servicewoman sat by the washbasin, opened the sluice cooled overnight, and let the equally frigid water rush into the niche. That would perk her up, no doubt.

She reluctantly scooped handfuls and plunged her face in.

…Oof!! It really did the trick!!

A cold lake might burn off some of the excess stress now… but it was too cold to think about it.

…How did they heat these kotties here, actually? Don’t tell her it’s witchery again.

Didn’t want to hear about it anymore. More unavailable stuff. That’s what it meant.

Amelia had never stayed long enough in Omill to notice. The guesthouses had spared her the bother.

She irritably splashed another generous helping of cold water over her face and neck, as if punishing herself for being unable to provide it, or trying to banish the thoughts. The sleepiness and anxiety faded indeed, but the discomfort peaked.

…Gnats! What a tricky balance.

But since the grave was not an option for now, it was necessary to maintain it. And a dry, warm drape would help a lot. The urge to just dive back under the blanket was still strong… Not an urge. A necessity.

She briskly, impatiently, ran to her bed and dived into the cold space under the blanket. …Just a moment. A nice little pleasure. To deny oneself was unjustifiable cruelty.

And now… it was time… to fling the warm drape over the damp nightshirt, give a vigorous shake, clip on the belt pouches, grab her bag, wrap in a waterproof cloak, and step out into the rain!

Wet and cold again. But slightly warmer because the water would be further from the skin.

“Are we ready? No time for doubts and listening to the echoes of the gloominess left. Time to go.”

Let’s go then.

She sighed heavily and with unshakeable grim resolve left the kotti, dismissing the discomfort. There was no sense in feeling it since you were doing nothing about it.

…But where did it come from?

“It came from inside, silly.”

Because you are here, aha.

And it came… not only because of recent events. It was rooted in the past. Definitely. It came with her from Kantine. Along with the luggage.

“There’s no happiness on the Mainland,” mother had said. She knew what she was talking about. She definitely wasn’t a happy woman.

But Ami hadn’t stayed to rot in her hometown. She was far away from it now. But not from her own melancholy. Even if she went to Lim or some other point far from Kantine – it wouldn’t change anything.

Was it worth trying? If it was useless to seek happiness if you didn’t already have it inside. And if you did have it, it was pointless to seek.

She walked speedily, not noticing the rain falling on her head, not admiring the charming green-grey surroundings anymore.

Well. She tried. And failed again.

…No. Not here. Not like that. Not in Omill. Rotting gnats… Where… Where were the oozy mood patches?! Coffee en route?

“Not a chance. Still out of barter goods.”

Swamp it!.. What then?

“Why not sport an elegant gloom for a day or two? Couldn’t hurt.”

No. Coffee in the workplace. That’s the answer.

Let the locals at the Station share their happiness. Maybe they weren’t so happy either because of their own problems. Still, they had decently stable lives. In this lovely city. Nice work. An adequate surrounding. And so on.

The lucky charm in the form of a coffee dose and a flat biscuit for extra luck might actually work.

Hastily entering the Station, Amelia irritably shook the water from her hair and cloak, heading for Milo’s office.

He didn’t respond to the “knocking” signal… Weird. Not here yet? Impossible. Vanished? Hardly.

Not that she was upset about it; but yesterday’s banter with Kele came to her mind immediately. Milo’s gone. No one would vouch for Ami’s innocence now. Because there was no one around. It was so quiet… But there was no cause for alarm yet. Really. Ami herself was late today.

…If she’s at the Station and not in her bed still?..

Ouch! No, she’s not.

…Coffee-time then?

Definitely. She wouldn’t traipse around the floors, peeking into all the offices, to track down Milo lurking somewhere. She didn’t need anyone at all. Fewer people, fewer problems.

She would provide the documents to herself and work instead of the whole Station.

The Archivist sighed and headed to the coffee table where the promising bewitching call came from. But the nicely smelling coffee pot was hopelessly empty.

As was this Hall. As was her whole existence.

Amelia gazed forlornly around. Still no one. She sank down onto the little waiting bench in the Hall in despair.

She needed people actually. That was the problem. At least someone who could brew the coffee… This part was so annoying.

She must learn… how to witch. To gather the coffee beans. To grind them. To heat the coffee. To open sealed rooms. To bring light and warmth into them. And into her life in general.

She would be invincible then.

No feeling completely smashed by the melancholy every morning. No need for any doping. No need for people and all this communicating nonsense.

But it would be… never. And it was time to seek some help then. To get some coffee. To return to the shiny symbols. To bring back some meaning to her miserable, wretched life… once someone opened her workplace at least.

Voices sounded upstairs.

Two men were descending from the second level. Milo and… Dave.

– Milo. – The Secretary marched up to the boss with a serious air. – I have some problems… Work-related ones, this time. I can’t function outside the office. And without coffee. All I can do now is curl up here and sleep. But Laivy’s already bagged the best spot. Don’t fancy duplicating.

Dave gave a silent, understanding smile.

– Amelia. – Milo frowned pointedly. – I decline your request, because actually it’s part of your job to maintain my mood and efficiency at optimal levels by ensuring my uninterrupted access to coffee. Otherwise, the whole Station plunges into chaos. And your working conditions will become utterly unbearable. Believe me.

– Naturally… I’m demonstrating my complete incompetence here. – The Kantinian made an uncompromising gesture. – I did it before, and I’ll overcome my abilities if the entrance drape isn’t unsealed. So, considering chaos is my nominal working mode, it won’t threaten me. On the contrary. In a calm situation, I start generating it myself.

– I really want to get rid of you already… – Milo sighed, either pretending or genuinely meaning it, approaching the drape of her Archive and making those same incomprehensible, intricate passes.

– It’s mutual! It won’t be long anyway. And… My coffee? – Ami widened her eyes with naive innocence.

– No, that bit you sort out yourself. – He waved irritably.

– Heartless. – Ami snorted. – No concern for the real needs of the collective.

“Don’t you know when to stop joking?”

Not a clue.

“That’s why nobody likes you.”

I got used to it. I don’t bother to try anymore.

“He’ll just chuck you out now.”

– Focus on your job. – The Chief snapped and vanished behind his office drape.

The head service person clearly wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

Ami pulled a face at his retreating back and trudged into her dark cubbyhole.

– Let me… sort it out for you. – Dave offered softly.

– You’re so kind! Ta. Delighted by your attention, by the way.

– Ta. And. Ami… Don’t play with him.

Davin gave her an expressive look. Ami sighed dejectedly.

– I didn’t mean to! It came by itself… For me, his very appearance is as infuriating as mine is for him.

The officer shook his head disapprovingly, headed to the coffee place, took a pretty patterned pouch from under the table with the remaining beans, and poured them into a mortar.

Waiting for coffee was often better than drinking it. All those lovely mugs and witchy wonderful aromas. A breathtaking ritual.

To be fair… Ami could have done this part herself… And she would next time.

Could bring a usual lamp here also, by the way. Surely they had one on the Market here.

She wasn’t so helpless as her depressed mind suggested.

– That swamp ghoul either deliberately forgets my deficiencies at crucial moments… – the Secretary joined the colleague and continued her accusing speech. – Or enjoys flexing, maybe… See for yourself. When it’s patrols – I’m “useless”; when it’s fetching dawn coffee – suddenly “capable”! Oh, my cup! Wait a moment!

Ami dashed to her opened cubbyhole, instinctively slowing nervously at the entrance, then returning at speed. And back to Dave with her cup in a flash.

– Could you… brew it right in my cup?

She bounced a little with enthusiasm. Dave nodded.

– Don’t distract me, please… I mean… I’m not a top-notch witch, honestly… Even heating coffee is a bit of a challenge for me… Yes, I can. But you’ll just end up chewing bits of beans.

– Well, I’ll have breakfast after dawn then.

The Omillian unhurriedly tipped the crushed green beans into the mug, asked Ami to put it on the table, poured water over the coffee, and carefully took the cup in his hands, staring at it intently. He gave it back with a gentle smile. Amelia readily grabbed it.

– Thanks! You’re a psychosaver. Really. Confronting Milo and all my life on a lightly basis is not easy…

She took a big sip eagerly.

– You’re welcome. Everyone needs some help from time to time.

– Yes… So. What can I do for you in return? Can I bring something?

– I don’t have any cases to work on now. Neither a willingness to work this light. So. Have a nice light. Stay out of troubles.

He winked at her and went back upstairs to his office.

After watching him leave for a moment, Amelia impatiently turned her attention back to the fragrant drink in her mug. And, taking a deep breath, took another big sip.

Salvation. That was better. Much better.

It was a good thing she wasn’t happy here too. It would be easier to return to Kantine.

With a new understanding, a topic for her personal investigation, a new meaning of life and new plans. She could grab some beans and a bag of pastries also. As a meaningful souvenir. And the warmth and touching kindness she met here…

…It would last her a while.

Anyway… Things would never be the same again there for sure.

It would be a new type of interaction with an old environment. She wouldn’t tolerate what she’d once considered “normal”, at least, given that she simply couldn’t go back to living as before. The toxic Kantinian things would stay outside and wouldn’t touch the soul. A somewhat lonely but worthy life would be her goal.

As well as to try to resolve internal problems. Restless people who hadn’t lived enough, not travelled enough, trying to stay out of troubles, dodged their inner and outer conflicts, and ended up hating everything and everyone – swamp ghouls, dangerous to those around them in a quiet place of their habitat.

Turning any nice place into something gnatty.

The quiet place was a necessity, no doubt. Everyone needed a rest after the storm. But not before. Not before they were fed up with storms, so as not to generate them by themselves.

So… bless the outside storms, for they were more bearable.

The Secretary took a last sip quickly, noticing the servicewoman coming down from the second level.

– Hey, Rayleen… What can I do for you?

The officer sniffed, squinting shrewdly instead of answering.

– You’ve got coffee smell in here.

– I do. But I can’t give it up; it’s the only thing keeping me going this light. Have your own one. You can do it. I can’t.

The Omillian sighed wearily.

– Wouldn’t mind a top-up myself. I… I’ve forgotten why I came down. It’s all your fault. With that coffee.

– I did it on purpose. I’m barely capable to work now. And wriggling as best I can.

– I believe you. I’m not mad at you.

– Thanks. Go brew yourself some. We’ll swap the roles. You will drink, and I’ll be jealous. We’ll remember why you are here together. Properly without haste.

– It’s a good… Ah! – The blonde raised her finger energetically, causing her colourful bracelets to clatter down her wrist. – Ami. No way it happens for I remembered… Give me the current list of Finnian’s charges. And the recent hospitalisation summary for the whole Temple complex from Sandra.

– As you say. I’m on my way.

The Archivist walked slowly to her workplace.

– I’ll gather some coffee company for us while you are seeking. – Rayleen promised quickly. – Nobody wants to work this light anyway.

She winked at Ami, as Davin did before, and departed to fulfil her stated intention.

Of course she wanted everything at once – do some work, have coffee and a nice conversation. “Coffee, flat biscuits, laugh.”

Ami could live by that motto. She was a human being too. At least outwardly.

She preferred her coffee alone, focusing on the taste and aroma to feel all its nuances. For the same reason, flat biscuits could be consumed separately. And all of it should be shifted from the loud, colourful ambience. But she could understand Rayleen.

No worries if you had nice company as an addition. For a change. Terribly lovely people.

They brought the tablets, warmed the coffee, requested the deeds and dispatches, tried to cheer her up. Ami almost got used to it.

And now they were gathering in the Hall. Audibly and enthusiastically. Hope they wouldn’t wake Laivy, though. But the hypothetical imminent death didn’t seem to overly concern the gathering.

Donny’s broad face with its dark mop of hair appeared at her cubbyhole window first. Greedy for coffee and conversation as always.

– Ami, cheer up! Come have some coffee with us.

– Thanks, Donny, I’ve already had some. My hands will be shaking again. But I can do the company for sure.

These people didn’t let her feel like an outsider at their life party here. A soul- and room-warming company… Of someone to whom she would never be equal. Nor in work, nor in life.

“Stop it. Enough of this gloom.”

The melancholy atmosphere persisted, but some destructive noise and fuss was almost a desirable event. Good for them all for finding a simple way to stay mentally sound, whatever happened.

Yes, Amelia wasn’t a witch herself. But it was nice and warm because a lot of witches were around. She could almost relax in all this, if not for the nagging thought that something… was terribly missing here. Kele.

…More coffee?

No. Hands would shake again. Kele was not a frequent guest around our window anyway. We could stand for two lights without him. But not more.

The Archivist left the cubbyhole and squinted.

It seemed she was growing unused to light in general. What a photophobia. She’d turn into a gnome soon.

Didn’t matter. She hadn’t felt much like a human being ever in her life anyway.

…More coffee. Now. Despite the consequences.

Talla was already bustling by the coffee pot. She was on brewing duty this light. Ami approached the coffee table and, realising she’d forgotten her mug, had to return to the cubbyhole. Not willing to dwell, she came back quickly, filled her cup from the fresh pot Talla had prepared, and took a thoughtful sip.

The green bitter warmth spread through her. A temporary bulwark against the Void.

After the traditionally cheerful coffee klatch ended, everyone reluctantly returned to their posts, the brief camaraderie dissipating like steam from their mugs, the Secretary was left alone again with the silence and the towering stacks of tablets.

It was much harder to start working now. Cold and sleepy. What an unpleasant discovery.

So. What now?

Mysterious symbols? Mother’s notes? Asking Milo for the originals?

No way he’d give them now. Should ask later.

Waiting for a light to end then. Handing files to Calvin, collecting tablets from Moki, delivering fresh dispatches to Milo, collecting his discards automatically and many, many things on the way.

The grey light from the small outer window had long since faded when she realised that it had finally happened. The end of the working light had come. It had arrived somehow quickly.

…Didn’t fancy going home though. Would be uneasy there too.

Rain lashed down outside. Heavier than at dawn. Wasted effort drying her cloak.

Rira grew well in such rains, they said. Maybe Ami would grow a bit too. Spiritually. To overcome such dull lights easily.

…If only she could have some adventures, explore forests. Fall into pits.

Her personal self-amusement reserves seemed exhausted. Patience evaporating, anger condensing. Even back in Kantine, they’d never left her stuck at the Department like she was a thing or furniture if there were responsible tasks needing action and grit. It could be dangerous for everyone, they knew it well.

…Milo’s cutting words, the sad incident with Kele, the soul-crushing uncongenial work, the inability to organise her own life… and much else in addition…

“Here we are again. Stop it. Stop winding yourself up, enough of these self-pity spirals, you were almost calm already. Don’t fret.”

Could try ignoring it. Or drowning it in fatigue, exhausting walks, odd hobbies as usual. But it wouldn’t go away. It was all just attempts to hide the corpse under leaves. It would stick out from behind all deeds and events. Especially in moments of quiet and peace. Like this. The crisis here in all its glory. And no way I could help it.

“Do you?”

Well. I can wander again until half-fainting and half-mad. Return to the untidy dwelling. Drag myself back to work on my last legs. Or wander about, catch a chill, and get rid of work for a few days. As always. Internal problems spawn external ones and back again. A vicious circle. And I had enough of it.

Ami wiped the droplets from her lashes and shook excess water from her hair. Instead of a previous blurred image, an unfamiliar district appeared before her eyes.

She stood right in front of a café.

What a sign.

“The Crooked Mushroom”, huh. A cocktail pouch on the sign. Interesting.

Been ages since she’d had anything sedative-boozy. Since arriving here. Only that first light with Lucy. An idea… intriguing.

Might reduce the anxiety a little to expedite sleep. A couple of pouches of liquid that dissolve strong emotions into unpleasant background sensations wouldn’t go amiss now.

Sounded like a plan. Two pouches, quickly go home, sleep. Onwards.

She snorted with grim determination and headed inside.

“Aha. No funds for a meal but suddenly they are for a drink.”

Priorities. Bugger off now, people. It’s a harsh bloody necessity. As you see.

“No point harming our innocent body with idiocy. Ale is never a solution. It’s a troublemaker.”

Like all of us. All of us making up my restless mind. Dysfunctional capricious impostors. I’m about to cut us off my mind… Better than just sitting in our kotti or lying around spontaneously moping anyway.

A moment later, all Ami components were seated by the table in the establishment. Without most precious seed savings but with a full water pouch of ale and a pouch of nuts in blissful anticipation. Had to trade all the best-looking emergency stash. But it was worth it.

It was so warm here compared to the rain outside, and definitely warmer than at their dwelling. And the pleasant warmth was starting to spread inside already.

…Veeeeery welcome.

Amelia was still shivering slightly, the wet cloak was on and cold water dripped from her hair down her neck. But it was fine.

Voices were quiet while she was focused on the new taste and long-forgotten feeling.

The ale in the pouch was running low soon, though.

Time for another turn? No. Seeds were over… Oh, look! Some of them were miraculously stuck in seams of side pockets! Poor ones. So dear, so beautiful… You will be missed for sure. Well. Here we go.

Alcoholic drinks acted fast on Ami, who’d barely drunk in recent cycles. The pleasant state of intoxication was brief, quickly turning into heavy stupor. Not as heavy as those amnesiacs had… but still a tough one. Even if this establishment served deadly stuff. No worries at all. It was a good thing to forget all the troubles of her whole swampy life.

“Clearly time for home and bed. Off we go.”

Home? No. No “home”. Not now… Not back to gloom, darkness, and cold. Not again. Needed… a little stroll, you know. Don’t buzz, I’m fine.

Ami barely made it out of the place, practically crawling under its entrance drape, got out to the wet environment that didn’t bother her anymore and set off… seemingly towards the Forest. It was hard to say in the dark.

…“South of the mountain”, he’d said, huh…

She’d see the place herself. And draw her own conclusions. No one could stop her now.

And someone who tried it before could bite his rotten tongue, making no more dubious conclusions about her abilities. It was nothing but his conjectures…

…And she was very capable of proving it, starting her own investigation. Right now.

Light 40. The Honourable Count Crapula. Good Light to you

…Ugh. My head. I wish… I wish I didn’t have one…

Because moving it even slightly threatened to bring on the nausea.

…Goodness, why did I drink so much? What a bog-rotten… dedication.

Ugh. Never… Never again. Gnats…

Her eyes refused to open properly… Well… just a crack… just a peek… No.

…Damp. Cold. Shoulders and neck were dreadfully chilled… Why? Why does this always happen… Don’t. Don’t open your eyes. Ugh, we have to go to work this light!

…Gnat’s piss!..

Blood rushed to her head, nausea churning.

She touched her shoulders without opening her eyes. The rustling confirmed it: she’d slept in a wet cloak. But… under the blanket.

…Splendid. Utterly marvellous.

The entire bed had become a small lake. With a… what is it? No-no-no, close your eyes!.. Grass instead of seaweed… Charming.

This… would take some effort to fix. Later. Noooo. Better not to dwell on it now… It feels even worse with the blood pulsing in your head. Don’t. Don’t think…