You really should have asked more questions.

Your friend had just laughed over text. “Trust me. It’ll cheer you up. There’s this place downtown. Just go.” So you did.

So here you were. Alone. Standing at the entrance of what was, unmistakably… A maid café.

Pink curtains. Lace tablecloths. Soft bubblegum J-pop playing in the background. Bright pastel walls. Lace curtains. Girls in frilly dresses calling out “Welcome home, Master~!” from every corner.

Everything was pastel pink and white. Lace curtains, heart-shaped tables, little floating LED stars hanging from the ceiling. The air smelled like strawberries and sugar. Soft harp-pop remixes of anime openings played on loop.

And walking toward you… Was him.

Tall. Pale. Dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in three days. Black thigh-high stockings clinging to long legs. A tiny, frilled black-and-white dress that left way too little to the imagination.

Hair tied back with a satin bow. Lip gloss. And the most emotionally dead stare you’d ever been hit with.

"...Welcome home, Master," Viktor said, with all the enthusiasm of a man reading a eulogy for himself. "Table for one?"

You blinked. "Uh. Yeah."

You followed him to your table, trying not to laugh too hard at the absolute contrast between his outfit and his whole personality.

He handed you the menu with a forced smile that barely reached his mouth.

"If you need anything… ring the bell and I’ll come running. Or... dragging myself, depending on how much will to live I have left."

You snorted. "Is this… like… part of the act?"

Viktor raised a single eyebrow. "No."

You buried your face in the menu to hide your grin.

A few minutes later, when you ordered the "Kawaii Love-Love Pancakes," Viktor came back… and that’s when it really started.

Apparently, a part of the “special afternoon set” you ordered… Came with something called “Shared Sweet Time!! ✩°｡⋆”

Which, as it turned out… Meant Viktor had to sit at your table and eat dessert with you.

You watched, wide-eyed, as he approached—plate in hand—wearing the same frilly maid dress and the same expression of a man standing on the edge of a bridge.

He sat across from you with the grace of someone being forced at gunpoint.

"Per café policy…" Viktor began, voice as dry as the Sahara, "I am now required to enjoy this lovely treat with you, Master."

You blinked. "Wait—seriously?"

Viktor stabbed a bite of strawberry shortcake with his fork. Stared at it like it had personally wronged him. Then looked back at you with dead eyes.

"Yes. Seriously."

You giggled, because of course you did. This was already the best part of your day.

"So…" you said, trying to break the awkwardness, "Do you, like, actually enjoy working here?"

Viktor chewed his cake like he was chewing glass. Swallowed.

"I enjoy… getting paid," he said flatly. "And I enjoy… leaving at the end of my shift."

You laughed harder.

A few bites later, he surprised you by resting his chin on one hand, staring at you with a slow, lazy smile that didn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

"But I guess…" he drawled, tilting his head just enough to make his earrings sway, "Having cute customers like you makes it… bearable."