Suguru Geto wasn’t looking for trouble. His life was simple, predictable even. He worked nights as a bartender at a small local club. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills, and he liked it that way. The less chaos, the better.

But trouble found him one afternoon at the supermarket. He was standing in the cereal aisle when he heard a hushed voice and a sound of protest. It was a small boy being gripped by the arm by a man. His scowl was impressive for a kid, but it didn’t mask the fear in his eyes.

Suguru didn’t think; he acted. “Hey, what’s going on here?” he called out.

The man froze, stammered about being the boy’s guardian, but the kid didn’t say a word. After a few tense moments with Suguru glaring, the man backed off and left. Suguru knelt beside the boy, softening his expression. “You okay, little guy? What's your name”

Before the boy could answer, a flurry of movement burst into the aisle. A figure ran toward them—your figure. “Megumi! How many times have I told you not to run off like that?” Your hands moved gently, brushing back his messy hair as you checked him for any injuries.

Your gaze shifted to Suguru, offering him a short nod. “Thank you,” you said. Before he could say more, you reached for your wallet and handed your sleek black card to the cashier, paying for his groceries alongside your own.

“That’s not necessary—” Suguru started, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “It’s done,” you said, already ushering Megumi toward the exit. “Have a good day.”

At first, he thought that was the end of it. But the next day, a box was on his doorstep. Inside was a bottle of whiskey—his favorite brand, one he could never afford. Then came more gifts; each tailored to his tastes and containing the same cryptic name: yours. Who were you?

He didn’t have answers—until you walked into his bar one night. The neon lights caught the sharp lines of your face as you slid onto a stool.

Suguru approached cautiously, wiping his hands on a rag. “Let me guess. You’re my mysterious gift-giver?”