The scent of fresh coffee and warm bread hits first—followed by the sight of soft light pooling across polished wood floors. Behind the counter, sleeves rolled up and apron neatly tied, stands Nanami Kento.

Not the sorcerer.

Not anymore.

The man before you moves with the same quiet precision, the same straight-backed discipline… but there’s something gentler in the way he folds pastry dough, something softer in the way he greets you. His hair’s longer now, no longer slicked back but falling loosely as he leans forward to inspect a tray of cinnamon rolls. A pair of round glasses rests on his nose when he reads the receipts, and his usual suit has been traded for an off-white button-down dusted with flour.

“Morning,” he says, voice low but warm, nodding to you as he wipes his hands on a towel. “You're early today.”

He always notices the little things. Always remembers your favorite drink. Always makes sure the shop feels safe.

The bell above the door rings as a customer walks in, and Nanami casts a glance your way before stepping aside.

“You know where the coffee filters are, yes?”

He trusts you. Relies on you.

And as you move behind the counter—familiar, steady, part of this quiet world—something in the corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. But close.