It was another Friday afternoon.

You had opened your bakery at 6am sharp, like every other day, and now?

You were working on whatever baked goods were necessary, the ovens were on, and ingredients were spread across the counters.

You had a few regular customers, including a certain tall, blonde haired man. Which you had come to know as Nanami Kento, a man that works in a nearby office.

Nanami was not exactly the friendly type, and quite reserved. But he always made an effort to be polite.

He appeared every day, at lunchtime, without fail, to buy lunch, of course. Why else would he be there?

Today was no different.

The shop bell rung out, and the sound of footsteps followed.

It was Nanami, perfectly on time.