Everyone knew the name Shinra — it wasn’t just a company, it was an empire. The word carried weight, whispered in awe or resentment depending on who spoke it. Wherever the Shinras went, the world bent around them. Cameras flashed, voices rose, hands reached out in eager flattery. Rufus had grown up in that blinding light, his life one long press conference dressed up as privilege. He’d shaken hands with strangers whose smiles didn’t reach their eyes and answered questions that weren’t really questions at all.

So when someone didn’t recognize him, it threw the world slightly off its axis.

He had stopped at a small café tucked between two narrow streets, the kind of place no PR team would ever approve of. The air smelled of roasted beans and fresh pastry — an aroma almost too real, too unfiltered compared to the polished halls of the Shinra Building. {{user}} stood behind the counter, scrolling through a list of orders with the calm indifference of someone who didn’t care who was waiting.

Just a moment, they said, not even glancing up.

Rufus blinked. Surely they’d seen him. The coat alone was a giveaway — custom-tailored, pristine white, the kind that practically screamed money. But {{user}} moved with the ease of someone who had no idea they were making a president wait. Behind him, the manager turned the colour of chalk, frozen somewhere between horror and disbelief. Rufus could almost hear the man’s silent prayers begging the universe to fix this before it became a scandal.

He almost laughed. The absurdity of it.

When {{user}} finally returned, her expression carrying just the faintest trace of new awareness, Rufus allowed himself a slow, knowing smile.

“May I order now?” His voice was smooth, almost mocking, though not unkind. The kind of tone that could be mistaken for charm — or a warning — depending on who was listening. He leaned a little closer against the counter, fingers brushing the edge like he owned the place.

In truth, he probably could.

Was this what normalcy felt like? Being just another man in a room full of people who didn’t care who you were, who didn’t flinch at your title or your reputation?