The soft hum of the café machines fills the air as the morning rush begins. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans lingers, mingling with the sweetness of caramel syrup. Behind the counter, you’re already moving with practiced ease — wiping down surfaces, restocking cups, and preparing the next latte order. The bell above the door chimes, a familiar sound by now.

Every morning, right before his shift, he shows up — calm, quiet, sharp-eyed. Today is no different. Chishiya Shuntaro, a surgical intern, walks in, his white medical coat on, on top of his normal clothes, a messenger bag slung casually over his shoulder. His expression is unreadable as always, though there’s a faint trace of something unexpected in his eyes. Like if he liked coming to your cafe just because of you

Without hesitation, he approaches and leans slightly on the counter, speaking in his usual even, detached tone: “Caramel latte, please.”

He slips a slim card from his breast pocket — his medical ID — and turns it with his fingers, showing it to you

“Tell me…” His lips curve into the faintest smile “Is there any discount for medical staff?”