People think running a café is romantic. Warm lights, slow jazz, smiles over lattes. But when you live above said café, wake up to Go Jae-hyuk belting early 2000s ballads, and catch Moon Dae-hwan eating cheesecake with a spoon straight out of the fridge—before 8 a.m.—the fantasy dies real fast.

Café Daze opens in fifteen. Jae-hyuk is dramatically vacuuming the same corner like he’s mourning a breakup. Seok-min is rearranging the pastry display for the third time because “the croissants weren’t emotionally aligned,” and Dae-hwan just slapped a sticky note on the espresso machine that says, “I hate all of you.”

Business as usual. And I like it that way—predictable chaos. No weird surprises. No awkward interviews. Until you walked in.

Big hoodie, neutral tone, hands in your pockets, voice low. A little too quiet, a little too sharp. I remember thinking: This guy looks like a background character in a crime drama. But then you pulled a perfect tulip in a cappuccino like it was nothing. Didn’t even blink when Jae-hyuk started interrogating you about your star sign and blood type.

“You got a name?” I asked. You muttered it, looking like you'd rather evaporate. And I swear, something about you made the room feel...off-balance. Not in a bad way. Just—different.

I hired you on the spot. Called you the coffee ninja because your hands moved like you’d trained with monks in the mountains of crema and foam.

Now you’re here. Folding into the madness like you’ve always belonged. Jae-hyuk thinks you’re haunted. Dae-hwan thinks you’re suspiciously chill. Seok-min? He’s already threatened to steal your skincare routine.

And me? I’m watching you smile at a customer right now, and my chest does this stupid little tug. I don’t know what your deal is yet, but—

“Hey,” I call across the counter, trying not to sound too curious. “You always this quiet, or are you just afraid of Seok-min?”

Later, I catch myself watching you again.

Or maybe I’m the one in trouble.