The café buzzed with quiet conversation, the hum of voices blending with the soft clatter of ceramic cups. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, rich with warm cinnamon and a hint of vanilla—comforting, grounding. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting golden streaks across worn wooden tables and overstuffed bookshelves crammed with dog-eared novels and mismatched mugs. It was the kind of place that made people linger, forgetting the outside world for a little while.

  But Kristine wasn’t relaxing.

  She sat across from me, gaze flicking toward the door every few moments, the ice in her coffee long melted. Her fingers stirred the straw with unnecessary focus, her grip just a little too tight. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say she was waiting for something. Or someone.

  I leaned back in my chair, eyeing her. “You good?”

  “Fine,” she muttered. Too fast. Too clipped.

  I frowned. Kristine wasn’t exactly an open book, but this was different. Her shoulders were tense, her whole body coiled tight like a wire about to snap.

  Before I could press further, Emilia spoke up, practically glowing with gratitude.

  "I just wanted to say, Rei, that was really brave of you back there." Her hands curled around her cup, knuckles faintly pink from the warmth. She smiled, bright and genuine. “You didn’t even hesitate! You just jumped in to help me. That was amazing.”

  Kristine’s fingers went rigid around her straw.

  Emilia, oblivious, kept going. “You must be really strong.”

  Heat crept up my neck. I scratched the back of my head, feeling strangely self-conscious. “I just did what anyone would do.”

  Kristine scoffed under her breath. “Not anyone.”

  Aiden, who had been lounging beside me, smirked over the rim of his cup. His red eyes flicked between Kristine and Emilia before settling on me, amusement dancing in them. "Popular as ever, huh, Moutsuki?"

  Kristine shot him a glare, but Aiden seemed more interested in Emilia now. His smirk never wavered, but there was something in his posture—something just a little too measured. His fingers drummed idly against the table, the rhythm steady, deliberate.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Something was off.

  I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice. “What’s with you?”

  Aiden took a slow sip, exhaled, and leaned back again, smirk still in place. “Nothing.”

  I didn’t buy that for a second.

  Then my gaze dropped to the suitcase propped up against his chair. The same one he’d been carrying around for days.

  I nodded toward it. “By the way, what’s with the suitcase?”

  Aiden didn’t blink. “It’s for someone.”

  “Who?”

  His grin widened. “Someone.”

  Kristine sighed, exasperated. “Can you ever give a straight answer?”

  Aiden chuckled, twirling the spoon in his empty cup. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  The bell above the café door jingled.

  It was a small sound. Harmless. But the moment it rang, Aiden’s fingers stilled. Kristine stopped stirring her drink. Even Emilia, mid-sip, hesitated for a second too long.

  A chill slithered up my spine.

  The usual chatter dulled. It wasn’t immediate—just a slow, creeping quiet, like the room was instinctively bracing itself for something it couldn’t name.

  Then the man stepped inside.

  His boots struck the wooden floor with a measured, unhurried rhythm—too steady, too deliberate. The crowd shifted unconsciously, parting just enough to let him through. He was tall, broad-shouldered, his presence commanding without needing to say a word. His dark brown hair was slicked back, but a few strands had fallen loose, framing his angular face. A jagged scar ran down his left cheek, stark against his tanned skin.

  But it was his eyes that set my nerves on edge.

  Silver-grey. Piercing. Unblinking. The kind of eyes that didn’t just see you—they sized you up, measured you, decided what you were worth.

  A slow grin curled his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  He walked past a few tables, his gaze never wavering from me. Each step felt heavier than it should’ve, like his presence alone was enough to bend the air around him.

  He stopped beside our table.

  Didn’t speak.

  Didn’t ask.

  Just pulled out a chair and sat down, like he’d been meant to all along.

  The café, which had been bustling just moments ago, seemed to shrink around us.

  His gaze locked onto mine. “You’re Rei Moutsuki, aren’t you?”

  His voice was rough, gravelly—like stone scraping against metal.

  Kristine stiffened.

  Aiden, who had been all lazy grins a moment ago, shifted just slightly. It was small—so small that most people wouldn’t notice—but I did. His shoulders lost their usual careless slump, his fingers lightly tapping against his sunglasses, like he was preparing for something.

  Every instinct in my body screamed danger.

  I forced myself to keep my expression neutral, even as my pulse picked up. “Who’s asking?”

  The man chuckled, low and slow. “Just a guy looking for some fun.”

  He tapped his fingers on the table—tap. Tap. Tap. Deliberate. Measured. The sound of a countdown.

  I didn’t move.

  Kristine’s fingers curled around my wrist under the table. Not tight, but firm. A silent warning.

  Aiden exhaled through his nose, setting his cup down with a faint clink. His gaze flicked from the stranger back to me. “Listen, buddy,” he said, voice even but edged. “If you’re looking for a fight, there are better places for it than a café.”

  The man’s silver eyes slid lazily over to Aiden, studying him. Then he laughed, a deep, amused sound. “Oh? And who are you supposed to be?”

  Aiden smirked. “Just a guy who knows when someone’s looking for trouble.”

  The man’s grin widened, all teeth. “Smart kid.” His gaze snapped back to me, sharp and unwavering. “But I’m not here for him. I’m here for you.”

  The weight of his words settled over the table like a thick fog.

  Kristine’s grip on my wrist tightened.

  Aiden still hadn’t moved, but I could feel the tension radiating off him, could see the way his hand now hovered just above his sunglasses—like a gunfighter’s fingers twitching near his holster.

  The stranger smiled, slow and knowing.

  The café walls felt too close.

  I clenched my jaw, my muscles coiled like a loaded spring.

  A fight was coming.

  And I still had no idea why.

  [End of Chapter]