[No-Ah]
It was the next day.
Or rather, night.
Ten minutes to close.
Close enough to taste it.
The café had gone quiet in that specific way it always did near the end of the night—half-finished drinks, lower voices, the espresso machine finally resting between orders.
No-Ah stepped back onto the floor with a stack of clean cups balanced in her hands, already halfway done with the shift in her head.
Tired.
Annoyed.
Ready to leave.
She slid behind the counter, set the cups down, and reached for the lids beside the register.
The bell above the door chimed softly.
No-Ah looked up.
And paused.
Kei.
Dark clothes.
Hands in his pockets.
No cap.
No mask.
No attempt to be unnoticed.
He stepped inside like he belonged there.
No-Ah stared at him for exactly one second.
Then looked back down at the lids in her hands.
Of course.
"Welcome," Min-Ji started automatically.
Kei didn't look at him.
His gaze moved once across the café—
past the tables, past the windows, past everyone else—
and landed on No-Ah.
Of course it did.
"No-Ah."
Her hand stopped on the stack of lids.
Just for a second.
Then she set them down and looked up.
"We're closing."
Kei stepped closer to the counter.
"I'm aware."
"Then leave."
"That's a strange way to greet a customer."
No-Ah leaned one hand against the counter.
"You're barely a customer."
Kei looked at her, unreadable.
"I keep coming back."
No-Ah's expression flattened.
"That just means your standards are low."
Something near the espresso machine made a soft choking sound.
Min-Ji.
Trying—and failing—not to laugh.
Kei's mouth twitched.
Brief.
Annoying.
No-Ah hated that she was beginning to recognize the almost-smile before it happened.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Americano."
"You always order like you hate joy?"
"You always ask unnecessary questions?"
"You always show up this late?"
Kei leaned one elbow against the counter.
"Do I need a reason?"
"No. But I'd love an explanation."
His gaze stayed on her.
Steady.
Unhurried.
"You ask too much."
No-Ah snorted softly before she could stop herself.
A quiet sound.
Brief.
Barely there.
But enough.
"Where were you yesterday? "
"Why do you ask? "
"I looked for you. "
"... Shouldn't have. "
Run-Seo, drying off the counter a few feet away, looked up immediately.
Kei noticed too.
Of course he did.
And the worst part—
the deeply irritating part—
was that he looked pleased about it.
No-Ah turned toward the register before that expression could become more noticeable.
"One Americano," she said flatly, tapping the order in.
"Brave," Kei said.
She glanced at him.
"For what?"
"Trusting me with caffeine this late."
No-Ah took his card without looking at him.
"You're right. That was reckless."
Kei handed it over.
Their fingers brushed for half a second.
Nothing.
Meaningless.
No-Ah ignored it.
Ran the payment.
Handed the card back.
"Try not to make it everyone else's problem."
"Cruel."
"You'll live."
Min-Ji passed her the cup a minute later.
No-Ah set it down on the counter in front of Kei.
"Americano."
Kei took the cup, but didn't move.
No-Ah looked at him.
"What."
He glanced once at the cup.
Then at her.
"No threat written on it today?"
No-Ah stared.
Then—
before she could stop it—
"Didn't think you needed help reading this one."
Min-Ji laughed outright.
A customer near the window looked over.
Run-Seo went still.
Kei looked at No-Ah for a second.
Then another.
And smiled.
Not much.
Not enough to be called warm.
But real.
Small.
Unhidden.
It did something strange and immediate to the atmosphere.
No-Ah hated that too.
"Careful," Kei said, taking the cup. "You almost sound like you like me."
No-Ah didn't miss a beat.
"Don't flatter yourself. I'm paid to tolerate you."
Kei hummed once.
Low.
Amused.
"Dangerous line of work."
"Then stop coming."
He looked at her for half a second too long.
Then—
"See you tomorrow."
No-Ah opened her mouth.
Ready with something dismissive. Sharp. Automatic.
But what came out was—
"Try coming earlier."
Silence.
Min-Ji stopped moving.
Run-Seo's hand stilled on the rag in her grip.
No-Ah froze.
Kei did too.
Only for a second.
Then something unreadable shifted in his expression.
Small.
Interested.
"Noted," he said.
And then he left.
The bell chimed softly behind him.
The door shut.
The café went quiet.
Not normal quiet.
Wrong quiet.
No-Ah stared at the door for one second too long.
Then turned back to the register like nothing had happened.
Min-Ji looked between her and the door Kei had disappeared through.
Then, wisely, said nothing.
Run-Seo said nothing either.
Which was worse.
☆☆ ☆
Closing took another twelve minutes.
The last customer left.
Min-Ji took out the trash.
The chairs were half up.
The lights were lower.
No-Ah was wiping down the counter when she heard it.
"Back room."
She looked up.
Run-Seo was already walking.
No-Ah stared after her for a second.
Then clicked her tongue, tossed the rag aside, and followed.
The storage room door shut behind them.
Quiet.
Closed.
Run-Seo turned to face her.
No hesitation.
No pretense.
"Stay away from Kei."
No-Ah stared at her.
Then laughed once.
Short.
Flat.
"Excuse me?"
Run-Seo didn't move.
"Stay away from him."
No-Ah folded her arms.
"And you felt the need to tell me that because?"
"Because I know him."
The answer came too fast.
Too certain.
No-Ah's expression cooled.
"That sounds like your problem."
Run-Seo's jaw tightened.
Barely.
"He doesn't come back to places twice for no reason."
No-Ah let out a dry breath.
"Then tell him to stop showing up."
Run-Seo went still.
No-Ah stepped closer.
Not enough to be threatening.
Enough to make the point.
"I didn't ask him to come here."
Her voice was flat now.
Cold.
"I didn't ask him to talk to me. I didn't ask him to keep walking in ten minutes before close like he's got nothing better to do."
Run-Seo held her gaze.
"He's interested."
No-Ah's expression didn't change.
"That sounds unfortunate for him."
Run-Seo's voice sharpened.
"You think this is harmless because he's bored."
No-Ah laughed again.
This time meaner.
"I think this is annoying because you're making it my problem."
Run-Seo took one step forward.
"He gets interested. He pushes. He gets what he wants. And when he's done—"
No-Ah cut her off.
"Then that still sounds like his problem."
Run-Seo stopped.
Something colder moved into her face.
"You don't know what he's like."
No-Ah held her stare.
"And you do?"
Run-Seo said nothing.
That was answer enough.
No-Ah tilted her head.
"Then maybe you should've kept him."
Run-Seo went still.
The silence after that was immediate.
Sharp.
Ugly.
No-Ah regretted it exactly enough to know it landed.
Not enough to take it back.
Run-Seo's voice, when it came, was quieter.
Worse for it.
"I'm telling you this because I know how this ends."
No-Ah's expression flattened.
"No. You're telling me this because you think I'm easier to warn than he is."
Run-Seo said nothing.
Again.
And there it was.
No-Ah stepped back and reached for the door.
"Tell him to stop coming."
Run-Seo blurted.
No-Ah's hand closed around the handle.
Then she looked back.
"Stop talking to me like I asked for any of this."
Then she walked out.
Left Run-Seo in the silence.
And shut the door behind her.