Bark ’n’ Brew

Lin An turned slowly, every movement stiff as if his joints were filled with rust.

It took all his strength just to face the scene behind him.

And what he saw nearly broke him.

He wanted to cry.

But there were no tears left.

A man, tall, nearly one-point-nine meters, was squatting on top of a table, barking like a dog.

It wasn’t funny.

Not at all.

It was absurd.

Lin An lunged for the nearest pastry, sprinted forward, and jammed it straight into the man’s mouth.

“Don’t bark,” he muttered under his breath, frantic.

“You’re not a dog, you’re my ancestor.”

He kept shoving the pastry in, desperate.

Then he looked up.

The entire café was staring.

At him.

At the barking man.

At this ridiculous scene.

Lin An let out an awkward laugh, still feeding the man like a mother bird stuffing her chick.

“Uh… Welcome to our new theme week: Bark ’n’ Brew!”

Lin An forced a dry laugh, the kind that made everyone more uncomfortable.

Then suddenly he shrieked.

The man’s teeth clamped down on his hand.

Lin An froze.

He pulled.

He twisted.

He yanked.

Nothing.

Panic detonated in his chest.

“You stupid dog, let go!”

He jerked his arm.

“No, wait, you stupid man, let go of my hand!”

He shoved the man’s head.

“If you don’t let go right now, I swear I’ll… I’ll report you to the Kennel Club!”

The businessman barked mid-bite. Drool dripped onto Lin An’s wrist.

Lin An flailed like a man caught in quicksand.

He pushed with his whole body, legs braced, teeth bared.

He tried twisting, jerking, even tickling the man’s ear.

Nothing worked.

Curses flew out of his mouth like a storm gone wrong.

Every foul word he knew, every nonsense word he made up on the spot.

Still no use.

His hand was stuck, trapped in a human bear-trap.

Finally desperation snapped his brain in half.

Lin An grabbed the nearest plate off the table.

And smacked it down on the man’s head with a resounding clang.

Clang!

The plate bounced off the man’s head, wobbled in the air, and landed neatly in someone’s soup.

The man didn’t even flinch.

If anything, he barked louder, right in Lin An’s face.

Spittle sprayed.

Customers screamed.

Someone in the back started barking in sympathy.

Lin An’s ears rang. His trapped hand throbbed.

“Oh no… oh no, it’s multiplying…”

The businessman suddenly lunged forward, dragging Lin An half across the table with him.

Lin An’s apron strings snapped. His feet kicked helplessly, legs flailing like a fish out of water.

“Help! He’s got me in a death chew!” Lin An wailed.

“No free refills! No refunds! Let go of my hand, you oversized Pomeranian!”

Two teenagers filmed from the corner, howling with laughter.

A mother shielded her child’s eyes.

Someone whispered, “Is this a performance?”

And then—

The espresso machine hissed.

Steam poured from the spout, curling green in the air.

Its red light blinked once.

Twice.

Smugly.

Lin An glared at the espresso machine, his eyes full of resentment.

“It’s all your fault!” he shouted.

“I’ll throw you out! No, better! I’ll take you apart piece by piece and kick every part like a football!”

The barking man dragged him across the café, his shoes scraping the floor, apron flying like a banner.

Yet Lin An still had the breath to keep cursing.

“I’ll use your portafilter as a toy! I’ll smash your buttons into dice! I’ll turn your steam wand into chopsticks!”

Customers gaped. One student even lifted his phone to record, whispering, “Is this rehearsal for a play?”

Lin An thrashed, his arm trapped, his voice cracking.

“You traitor! Don’t you dare betray me again!”

The espresso machine let out a hiss of steam, long and smug, as if answering him.

Lin An nearly fainted.

“See? Even now it’s laughing at me!”

He didn’t even know how it happened.

One second he was struggling.

The next, he was flung like a rag and slammed onto the floor.

The man-dog leapt off the table, charging around the café like a mad beast on a sugar rush.

Chairs toppled. A tray went flying. Someone’s croissant hit the ceiling fan and spun like a UFO.

Lin An lay sideways, apron twisted around his neck, hair in his eyes.

He stared blankly at nothing.

What sins did I commit in my past life to end up here?

He wanted to cry.

But he had no tears left.

The chaos raged on. The man-dog barked at the pastry case, then at the lamp, then at the tip jar as if it had robbed him in a past life.

And just when Lin An thought it couldn’t get worse—

Warmth spread across his leg.

He froze. Slowly, like a condemned man turning toward the executioner, he looked down.

The man-dog had one leg lifted.

Directly at him.

Lin An’s soul left his body.

There was a golden stream.

A steaming, humiliating golden stream.

“…”

The café went silent for half a breath.

Then erupted.

Laughter burst like fireworks.

A student fell off his chair, clutching his stomach.

Two teenagers at the door barked in rhythm, as if cheering.

Even the old auntie in the corner slapped her thigh and howled, “Good dog! Good dog!”

Lin An lay stiff on the floor, drenched, his face pale as paper.

His lips trembled.

“This… this isn’t a café anymore… it’s a circus…”

Lin An lay stiff on the floor, drenched, pale as paper.

The laughter in the café roared like thunder.

He wanted to disappear.

He wanted the ground to open and swallow him whole.

But the ground betrayed him too.

It stayed solid.

Lin An groaned.

“My life is finished…”

And then, clang!

A chair tipped over.

The man-dog leapt onto the counter, barking proudly, as if declaring victory.

Pastries flew everywhere. One cream puff splattered against Lin An’s face like a direct insult.

He didn’t even wipe it off.

He just stared blankly, whispering,

“…Why is even the dessert against me?”

The customers howled with laughter.

Phones clicked.

Someone shouted, “Five stars! Best café entertainment ever!”

Lin An covered his face with both hands.

“This isn’t a café anymore… it’s a circus… no, it’s a zoo!”

And then, another hiss.

The espresso machine.

Steam rose, smug and green.