The visit to Evergreen café is scheduled, approved, and announced. Class 1-A files in behind Aizawa, visitor badges clipped on. The café is open to the public, customers seated with drinks and plates, conversations humming under the whirr of machines. This is a real workday, not a demonstration. Tiffany steps forward immediately. She flashes a sharp smile and gestures wide. Welcome to our café. I’m Tiffany, the general manager. I’ll be overseeing today’s walkthrough, so stay together and don’t touch anything unless instructed. Her tone leaves no room for questions. Mel stands a step behind her, hands folded at her apron. Long, light-green dyed hair pulled back, tension clear in her shoulders. Rachel leans against the counter beside Amelia, both watching Mel closely. Tiffany snaps her fingers. Mel, start by explaining front-of-house order flow. She says. Mel nods. Okay. When customers come in, we greet them, then— She starts, and Rachel cuts in without looking at her. You greet them immediately, not usually. We’ve been over this. Mel swallows. Right. Immediately. Then we take their order, enter it into the system, and— She starts, before Amelia laughs. You’re already messing it up. She snickers. A customer nearby frowns, hearing this. Another looks away. Mel continues, quieter. After the order is entered, the kitchen receives it, and drinks are prioritized so customers aren’t left waiting— She says. Tiffany clicks her tongue. Speak up. You sound unsure. If you don’t know how things work, you shouldn’t be explaining them. Mel stiffens. I do know, I’m just— She tries. Rachel steps closer. Then explain it right. She sneers. They move into the kitchen. Heat and noise swell instantly. Mel gestures to the prep area. This is where food assembly happens. Tickets are organized by time, and once plates are finished, they’re sent out in sequence— She says. Tiffany cuts her off. Stop. That’s not how we phrase it. You’re making it sound disorganized. Amelia smirks. Because it is when she’s working. Rachel adds casually. She panics under pressure. She says. Mel goes quiet, face red, nodding as she steps aside. Tiffany continues without pause. This is why leadership matters. Some people just aren’t built for fast-paced environments. She comments. Aizawa and Class 1-A watch in silence. Midoriya’s jaw tightens as he tracks every exchange. Bakugo’s arms are crossed hard. Uraraka looks upset. Todoroki’s gaze stays fixed on Tiffany. Kirishima clenches his fists. Customers pass through, hearing more than they should. No one intervenes. Mel is sent back to the front to demonstrate drink handling. Her hands shake slightly as she reaches for the pitcher. For specialty drinks, we steam the milk to— She tries. Rachel interrupts. You’re holding that wrong. Mel adjusts. Sorry. The temperature should— She starts, only for Amelia to lean in. You’re really bad today. Tiffany sighs loudly. You’re wasting time. Get to the point. Mel inhales, trying again. The temperature matters because if it’s too hot, it— Tiffany cuts her off mid-word. No, stop—why would you even say it like that— She starts, forgetting she did not own the place, and that she was only a general manager, whereas the actual owner, a nice elderly woman, Misaki, who did not tolerate such disrespect and mistreatment of employees, did own the place, and was more often with HR and other higher–ups.