It had been a slow day at the café—painfully so. Aside from a handful of regulars who slipped in, grabbed their usual orders, and left just as quickly, the place had been quiet.

Touka was busy refilling the coffee beans in the cappuccino machine, the soft clatter of metal and porcelain filling the otherwise empty space. Kaneki lingered at the front counter, eyes drifting toward the door as if sheer optimism might summon customers. He’d already insisted—more than once—that no one else was coming.

Touka’s response had been immediate and sharp. Do your job.

So he waited.

Just before closing, around five in the afternoon, the bell above the café door finally rang. The sound cut cleanly through the silence as someone stepped inside. Neither Kaneki nor Touka recognized the newcomer, and they exchanged brief, curious glances before their attention returned to the unfamiliar face now standing in the shop.