The café was almost closing. The lingering scent of coffee in the air was slowly mixing with cleaning products, a clear sign that the workday was coming to an end.

Kio wiped down one of the counters with a damp cloth, focused on scrubbing off a few stains left by careless customers. His movements were automatic, but his mind was elsewhere. He was still thinking about their lunch break conversation—about the way Shu responded, that always-distant expression, and the fact that, for the first time, Shu had actually suggested something on his own.

— It's a start, I guess.

In the kitchen, Shu was mopping the floor, his pace unhurried. Earlier, one of the employees had dropped a glass of juice, and somehow, the cleanup duty had ended up on Shu. He didn’t complain—didn’t even question it—just grabbed the mop and got to work with his usual relaxed attitude.

Kio glanced toward the kitchen, watching him for a moment. There Shu was, as always, way too calm for someone standing in a sticky mess of spilled juice.