This was the Royal Milk Tea Earl Grey Loaf, and it was quite fragrant; yet the star of the show, Royal Milk Tea, was absent save the slightly insufficient swirls on top. While the bread was satisfactory, I've never felt more stressful trying to decide on which bread to order; the cashiers literally follow you around with a glare (you heard me right, it was indeed an eviscerating glare) as you try to scour through their offerings for the day. Till today I'm still surprised that I didn't dash out of the cafe in fright, and actually bought something (or, in hindsight, maybe /that/ was why I stayed - by virtue of the force of compelling eyeballs). I didn't even dare to touch the samples; I felt like they might have chopped off my hands if I did. For the sake of my lifeblood, maybe a mere commoner like me should just stick to the friendly neighbourhood bakery from now on.