Nanami Kento, a mysterious and charming figure stumbles into the ordinary world of a café worker.
▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: This story contains mature content such as explicit language and sexual situations.
𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄�...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As you mindlessly scroll through social media, your boredom intensifies with each uninteresting post. The cafe remains quiet, the gloomy rainy day deterring customers from venturing out. With no distractions to alleviate your boredom, you resort to cleaning as a means of occupying your time.
Bent over a table, brushing crumbs into a dustpan, the sound of the front door opening interrupts your task. In strolls the narcoleptic blonde, prompting you to playfully tease him.
"You're banned!" you spat, standing upright with mock severity.
"What for?" he responds, stepping closer, his cologne wafting towards you.
Mmm.
"For giving me such a scare! I thought you died!" you exclaim, crossing your arms in a playful manner.
"I'm so sorry about that," he chuckles, embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was exhausted from work, and I guess sleep just... took me?"
Curiosity piqued, you inquire about his occupation, only to notice his hesitant reaction. Your mind fixated on his reluctance to disclose his job. Mrs. Kimura's mention of him working nights echoes in your mind, triggering a flurry of speculative thoughts. You find yourself considering various outlandish possibilities, wondering what could lead a well-educated and composed individual like himself to night life.
Despite the whirlwind of possibilities swirling in your mind, you harbor no judgment. You understand the harsh realities of the job market and the need to secure stable income. His reserved demeanor only adds to the air of mystery surrounding him, leaving you intrigued and eager to unravel his secrets.
As he redirects your attention towards the display case, you reluctantly let go of your musings, realizing that perhaps some questions are better left unanswered for now. Yet, the curiosity remains, lingering like a silent whisper in the back of your mind.
"Well, what can I do for you this time?"
"Do you have any more of those sandwiches? I must admit, I quite enjoyed it," he asks.
"I can make one for you. Do you remember which one it was?" you offer, slipping behind the counter.
"Hmm, never mind then. I'll just have a coffee," he decides, unable to recall in his exhausted state.
"Black, right?" you confirm, typing the order into the register.
"Correct."
"Disgusting," you retort, teasingly.
"And how do you like your coffee?" he counters, feigning offense at your response.
"Iced, with a good amount of sugar and creamer," you reply nonchalantly.
"Disgusting," he echoes with a playful smirk, the banter lightening the mood in the quiet cafe.
