Chapter 93 – Unemployed Incubus
He pushed the door open.
A small bell chimed, soft and charming. The scent hit him harder now—coffee beans ground fresh, sugar, butter, a hint of citrus peel and something floral woven in the steam.
The warmth of the place wrapped around him immediately. And without hesitation, Lux walked in.
The light was soft, filtered through fig leaves brushing against the tall front windows, and the soft hum of indie jazz laced itself through the air like someone was trying really hard to say "we have personality here."
Lux walked straight up to the counter.
The barista looked up.
She was mortal. Maybe mid-twenties. Hair in a loose bun. Brown skin, soft freckles, linen apron, arms tattooed with tiny plants and stars like she'd gotten bored at a cosmic farmer's market. Her name tag read LINA in handwritten cursive.
She blinked once.
Then twice.
