Lunara's P.O.V
Finally, the last customer had gone. I was just about to settle in for a well-earned break when the bell let out a soft, familiar chime. 'Welcome to Mama K's Bakery,' I said, the greeting coming to me by habit. But as I looked up, the words died in my throat. Standing there was a young man covered in layers of street grime and filth, yet his obsidian hair—shot through with that unmistakable purple tint—tugged at a memory I couldn't quite place. He took one trembling step toward me before his eyes rolled back. He hit the wooden floor with a heavy thud. I hurried around the counter, kneeling beside him; he was gaunt, clearly having gone days without a real meal. I sighed, brushing a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead. 'This might be troublesome,' I murmured. It was time to call my brother.
I pulled out my terminal and dialed. It rang three times before a groaggy, annoyed voice picked up. "Ugh, why are you calling this late?"
"I need your help at the bakery," I said, cutting him off with a sharp edge to my tone.
"Huh? What happened?" he shouted, his voice instantly flipping to panic.
"Nothing dire. Someone fainted from hunger and exhaustion. I just need help moving him," I said calmly, ending the call before he could argue.
A few minutes later, the door swung open. Light stumbled in, his long, orange-yellow hair glowing like a captured sunset, his golden eyes blinking away sleep. He rubbed the back of his neck as he approached. "Lunara, what's going on?"
"Help me move him to the back," I commanded. Light sighed reluctantly but obeyed, lifting the boy and carrying him toward the spare bed behind the counter.
"This kid is as light as a feather," Light exclaimed, surprised. I rolled my eyes and gestured to the boy's grime-caked coat. "Get those heavy clothes off him. He needs to breathe.