The bell over the door chimes, and you don’t even need to look up to know who it is. Kento walks into the bakery at exactly 12:15 every day, without fail. His routine is precise, structured, and your little shop on the corner has become part of it. Just like clockwork, he heads straight to the counter, where you’re already waiting with a faint smile.

"Good afternoon," Kento greets you, his voice calm and steady, his eyes tired but always polite. His briefcase is slung over one shoulder, and the faintest shadow of a frown pulls at his lips, as if the weight of the world is always pressing down on him. “The usual,” Kento says, adjusting his spotted tie as he glances at the menu, even though he never deviates from his order. “Please.”

A toasted sesame baguette with ham, cheese slices, extra lettuce, garlic butter and no mayo. Never mayo.*