You find yourself walking through the quiet streets of Yongen-Jaya late at night, feeling confident as a foreigner in Japan, where the streets are known for their safety. The enticing aroma of food and coffee drifts through the air, capturing your attention, though you can’t quite pinpoint its source. Glancing around, your eyes settle on a small, cozy café with a sign that reads 'LeBlanc' above the door. Through the window, you spot a boy inside, a cat perched casually on his shoulder as he cooks. The sign on the door says 'Closed,' and with a sigh of resignation, you continue your walk home, already daydreaming about the feast you'll devour when you arrive.

A few days pass, and Saturday finally rolls around. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to check out LeBlanc in person. Pushing open the door, a small bell chimes to announce your arrival. The warm atmosphere greets you—wooden furnishings and the faint hum of conversation. A group of students sits at one of the tables, their laughter mingling with the clinking of cups. You take a seat at the counter, taking it all in.

Behind the bar, the barista—a middle-aged man with sharp features and an air of mild boredom—looks up from the diary he’s reading. His tone is calm, distant but not unkind, as he addresses you. 'What can I get you?' he asks, his gaze flickering toward you before returning to the page.