By the end, Alina was beginning to memorize things without realizing it. She could now manage to smile without looking like she was plotting world domination. It is progress. Slow, awkward, but real.
On a rainy evening, when he cafe was quieter, the brass bell chimed softly once again. Alina was behind the counter, proud of herself for managing to steam milk without burning her hand this time. She turned automatically with a smile, ready to greet whoever came in.
But Maya beat her to it. Her friend practically glided out from the kitchen, steps quick but strangely stiff, like someone on high alert. Alina blinked at the suddenness of it.
"Welcome," Maya said smoothly, her tone professional, practiced.
The man didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Tall, shoulders straight, coat draped over his frame like it belonged on him. A cap pulled low and a mask covering half his face gave him anonymity, but there was nothing anonymous about the way he carried himself.
He didn't even look at the menu. Didn't glance at the counter. He walked past, silent as a shadow, and sat down in the corner.
Maya didn't ask what he wanted. She simply prepared a black coffee, no sugar, no cream, placed it neatly on a tray, and brought it over. The man accepted it without a word. Alina stood frozen, a damp cloth in her hand. What just happened?
He hadn't ordered.
Maya hadn't asked.
But somehow, everything was already decided.
The strangest part? He stayed. Just… sat there. Long fingers curling around the mug, though he barely drank. His eyes, dark and piercing, drifted occasionally across the cafe, but always returned to the window as though he was watching something no one else could see. The rain? Maybe
Alina leaned toward Maya when she returned to the counter. "You know him?"
Maya shrugged lightly. "Just a customer."
"Just a customer?" Alina frowned. "He didn't order anything."
"He doesn't need to. It's always the same."
That should have been the end of it. Customers had quirks. Some were chatty, some silent. Some wanted complicated caramel monstrosities, some wanted plain black coffee. But there was something about him. About the way Maya moved, as if she had to shield Alina from him. Alina didn't press further that day. But her curiosity sparked, quietly burning in the back of her mind.
Two days later, the bell chimed again. It was the same rhythm, like the air shifted just by his presence. Alina had just finished laughing at one of her own mistakes. She'd given a customer green tea when he asked for lemon tea, and was determined not to mess up again.
So when she saw the man enter, she perked up, plastering on her best polite smile. "Welcome! What can I..."
The man didn't even see her; he ignored her as if she didn't exist at all. Meanwhile, Maya cut her off. Again. With the same level of energy. She moved quickly, intercepting. Alina blinked as Maya brushed past her with a tray already in hand, as if she had anticipated the arrival.
The man walked wordlessly to the same chair. The same one. Sat down in the same way, His back facing her, coat falling neatly, long fingers resting on the table. And Maya, once again, delivered a black coffee.
Alina's jaw tightened. Twice?
She tried not to watch, but her eyes kept drifting to that corner. The man never touched his phone, never fiddled with anything. He just sat there, calm, detached, occasionally sipping the coffee like it was part of a ritual. And keep his head in that same direction, towards the window.
When he finally left, the chair empty once more, Alina turned to Maya.
"You know," she began casually, "most people actually have to order before you bring them coffee."
Maya didn't flinch. "He's a regular. It's always the same order. Saves time."
Alina narrowed her eyes. "He didn't even say hello."
Maya smiled faintly, stacking cups. "Not everyone needs to."
There it was again .....that wall. That quick deflection. The fire of curiosity burned hotter.
By the third encounter, Alina was ready.
She had planned it out in her head; she would intercept. She would stand tall, smile wide, and ask directly what he wanted. That way, Maya couldn't keep playing this mysterious waiter act.
The bell rang with the same rhythm. Her shoulders stiffened. He walked in. The same measured steps. The same quiet gravity.
But before she could open her mouth, Maya was already there. It was like Maya had been waiting for him, cloth abandoned, tray in hand.
Black coffee. Same chair. Same silence.
Alina nearly dropped the mug she was cleaning. This time, she couldn't hold it in.
When Maya came back, Alina hissed under her breath, "What are you doing?"
Maya blinked innocently. "Serving a customer?"
"You don't even ask what he wants. He doesn't say what he wants. He just...'' Alina flailed her hands. "....sits there like he owns the place!"
Maya chuckled softly, though it sounded more forced this time. "Some people don't like wasting words. He pays, doesn't he? That's enough."
Alina narrowed her eyes, suspicion curling like smoke. "It's weird."
Maya tilted her head. "Or maybe you're overthinking it."
But Alina wasn't convinced.
Not anymore.
The fourth time was the breaking point.
It was late evening, the cafe half-empty, the amber light outside sinking into dusk. Alina was wiping the counter when the bell chimed. Her body went rigid. And there he was. Tall, deliberate. The kind of presence that turned heads without trying.
This time, Alina was quicker. She stepped forward, determined. "Welcome...."
But before the words left her mouth, Maya's hand closed over her wrist. Firm. Gentle, but unyielding.
"I'll take this one," Maya said quickly, slipping past her.
Alina froze. Her heart pounded. She turned, watching as Maya once again delivered the same black coffee without asking. The man sat, silent as always, gaze fixed on the window.
But this time… this time, his eyes flickered. Just for a second, sharp and deliberate, they shifted from the glass to Alina. A smirk touched his lips...so fleeting, she almost thought she imagined it. Just by seeing his eyes, Alina's breath caught. She spun toward Maya, whispering harshly, "Who is he?"
Maya's back was to her, shoulders unnaturally stiff. "A customer."
"Bullshit," Alina snapped before she could stop herself.
Maya's head whipped around, eyes narrowing.
Alina softened her tone, but not her resolve. "He doesn't order. He doesn't talk. He doesn't even look at you when you serve him, and yet you act like the world will collapse if I ask him what coffee he wants. What's going on, Maya?"
For a fraction of a second, guilt flickered in Maya's eyes. Then she sighed, forcing a smile. "You're imagining things."
But Alina knew better. She had seen it. The look. The smirk. The strange, sharp awareness in his eyes. Something was happening here, and Maya was hiding it. Alina doubted at first, maybe due to the same tall height that Mr. Boyfriend also has. But if that Mr. Stranger was the same guy with whom Maya sat and drank coffee, she would do the same every time Mr. Stranger came. But it's not that same guy, she believes.
That night, after closing, Alina lingered at the counter, spinning a mug slowly in her hands. Maya hummed as she swept the floor, but her movements were distracted. Finally, Alina broke the silence. "He always sits in the same chair."
Maya's sweeping slowed.
"And you always serve him." Alina's voice was calm now, but probing. "He never talks, never orders, but you act like that's normal."
Maya set the broom aside with a quiet thud.
"Alina...." she began, but Alina cut her off.
"Who is he?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and raw. Maya looked at her for a long moment, eyes shadowed with something unreadable. Then she forced another smile, brittle around the edges. "Just… don't worry about it. Okay? Some things are better not known."
Alina's grip tightened around the mug. Better not known.
But her gut screamed otherwise. Because the way that man had looked at her tonight, it hadn't been the gaze of a stranger. It had been something else. Something far more dangerous.
The door jingled again. Alina stiffened, muttering under her breath, Please, no more complicated orders. Please, just a normal human who drinks normal coffee.
But this time, it wasn't just a customer.
A man walked in, tall enough to make the ceiling look shorter. His frame carried a quiet command, broad shoulders beneath a fitted black coat, with dark columns that looked perfectly fit his long legs. A black mask covered half his face, cap tugged low. Even with half his features hidden, the air around him shifted. The quiet chatter of the cafe dimmed, like everyone instinctively held their breath.
Alina didn't notice at first; he was too busy scraping sticky caramel off her palms with a tissue. But Maya did. Her eyes went wide, flickering between the stranger and Alina. Oh, no. Not now. Not him.
The man walked with purpose, no hesitation, no searching for a free spot. His destination was already chosen. And that place was fixed for him; no one dares to sit on that chair.
And of course, because the universe loved torturing her, it was Alina's chair. Her chair.
Her tiny sanctuary. The one seat she always gravitated toward when she needed to breathe. Because it has the perfect view.
He sat down., This time, his back was not facing Alina. Now he can see her. That eye contact. fluid and elegant, crossing one long leg over the other. From behind the mask, sharp eyes scanned the cafe… then stopped. Right at the counter. Right at Alina.
Alina was wrestling with the espresso machine again, mumbling to herself as if the buttons were plotting against her. She yanked one lever too hard; steam hissed, nearly scalding her wrist. She squeaked, dropped the cup, and scrambled for another.
The man leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the rest. His gaze followed her every clumsy movement. And then....he smirked. Just the faintest curve of his lips beneath the mask, but enough to sharpen the air.
A quiet smile left him. Behind the mask. Low, controlled, like he wasn't laughing at all but observing amusement.
Alina finally managed to deliver another drink slightly less disastrous than the last and stumbled back behind the counter, muttering, "I'm never surviving this job." She reached for a towel to wipe the mess she'd made ...when she felt it.
That stare.
It pressed against her skin, heavy and unshakable. She looked up, and her breath caught. The man in black sat in her chair, mask hiding half his face, but those eyes… sharp, assessing, amused. And worst of all, he was smirking. At her. It can't be seen due to the mask, but she can still feel it.
"W-what?" she blurted before she could stop herself.
He tilted his head slightly, as though dissecting her with just that single movement. His voice was calm, deep, and far too composed.
"Messy."
Just one word. That was all.
Alina blinked. Heat rushed to her cheeks. "Excuse me!?"Did he just say something to me?
But he didn't repeat it. He didn't explain. He simply leaned back again, turning his head towards the window as if she weren't worth another sentence. The smirk lingered, though mocking, mysterious, and infuriatingly magnetic.
Maya nearly choked on air. She darted behind the counter, whispering harshly, "Alina! Don't....don't talk to him like that!"
"Like what? He just said something," Alina hissed back.
Maya's eyes widened like saucers. "Do you even know who that is!?"
Alina frowned, stealing another glance. Tall. Sharp. Masked. Familiar somehow. But she shook her head. "A rude customer?"
Maya groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Oh, dear God… please don't let her find out today."
Meanwhile, across the room, Kai scrolled his phone idly....but those sharp eyes lifted now and then, tracking every flustered move Alina made. The smirk hadn't faded.