The bakery's doorbell rings softly.

We've come to know the sound — not because it's a distinct tone, but because it's always the same person who enters. A gray hoodie. Calm steps. A gaze that always sweeps the room before reaching the cashier.

"Today… another beef sandwich?" you ask with a friendly smile.

He nods slightly. "As usual."

You prepare the sandwich without looking at the notes. Beef, black pepper sauce, toast slightly burnt on the edges — just like the order the first day he came.

As you hand him his order, you notice something behind him.

A dark figure. Tall. Curving strangely against the ceiling. No one else reacts.

Your breath catches.

The guy in the hoodie immediately turns to you — not at the cashier, not at the sandwich — but straight into your eyes.

"You… can see it, huh?" he says quietly.

The world feels silent.

"Y-you see it too?" your voice is barely a whisper.

He doesn't answer.

Instead, he stands between you and the creature.

“Stay out from behind the counter,” he says casually, as if giving a casual instruction.

The air suddenly becomes heavy. The lights flicker. In a split second, the black figure disintegrates like smoke swept away by the wind.

Silence again.

He turns back to you, picking up his sandwich as if nothing had happened.

“…Thank you,” you say quietly.

He looks at the sandwich for a moment, then at you.

“You have to be careful. Ordinary people who can see… are usually targets.”

He turns toward the door, but before he leaves, he pauses.

“Are you… still open tomorrow?”

You nod.

“Good,” he says simply. “Then I have a reason to come back.”

The doorbell rings. And for the first time… you realize he’s not just a regular customer.