The phone buzzed on a cloudy day.
It looked like it was going to rain, but it was just a look.
The alarm went off.
"Ugh, what the hell… it's already morning."
Noah turned to the other side of the bed, his face buried in the pillow.
He had stayed up too late, caught up in a series that promised to end "just one more episode."
He got up and stepped onto the cold floor.
That horrible Monday feeling.
His body begging to stay in bed, but the responsibility winning.
In the kitchen, Noah tried to use magic to make an egg for breakfast.
The egg floated a few inches in the air…
trembling.
"Not again—"
"Ugh, how embarrassing."
The magic failed.
The egg fell to the ground with a dry crack.
Noah stood still for a second, staring at the mess, as if something invisible were judging him.
"I can't believe this."
He grabbed a cloth, cleaned the floor in silence, and in the end, made another egg the traditional way.
It worked.
Even if it wasn't the way he wanted.
The house had a heavy silence.
It was too big for just one person.
On the way to school, the sky stayed closed, the kind that makes everything look grayer than it should.
"Iris! Over here!"
Noah waved, catching her attention from across the street.
"Ugh…" Iris dragged her feet toward him. "I'm dead. I couldn't sleep. I had terrible anxiety."
She looked exhausted.
Way too tired for a Monday that had barely started.
They walked to school together, side by side, without rushing.
The day stayed cloudy.
Horribly cloudy.
In class, Noah sat next to Iris.
As the conversation started, the usual noise of a regular morning filled the space.
The lesson went on.
And so did the world.
Iris leaned a little on her chair.
"Do you really want to go to that shop today?" she murmured. "You have a lot of energy… the day's just awful."
She spoke softly, clearly trying to delay it.
"I'm curious," Noah replied. "What if they really have magical artifacts?"
Iris let out a short sigh.
"Yeah, I bet you're just going to waste money again."
"I wish I could be rich like that."
At the back of the room, the teacher's voice broke through the noise of the students, almost unnoticed.
"…after the fall of the arcane civilizations, over two hundred years ago, most of the magical knowledge was lost."
Someone dragged a chair.
Another student fiddled with their phone.
"What we use today," the teacher continued, "are fragments of what was lost."
The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson.
"Finally, time to eat," Noah said, as excited as always.
"You only think about eating," Iris replied, getting up from her chair.
In the hallway, Noah stopped in front of the bulletin board to check the upcoming classes.
A poster stuck in the corner caught his attention for a moment.
PEACE OR DOMINATION?
Beings from outside only want peace.
Is there still hope for humanity?
He read too quickly to care.
He moved on.
At the cafeteria, they sat across from each other with their trays in hand.
The place seemed quieter than usual.
A few empty tables.
Few students.
Conversations too low to fill the space.
"Finally, the sun came out," Noah said, looking out the window. "I hate cloudy days."
Iris made a face.
"Unfortunately."
"If it were raining, I could've skipped the commitment."
Noah chuckled softly.
The silence returned between them, comfortable enough not to be strange.
Noah looked around before speaking.
"The cafeteria is… way emptier than usual today."
Iris shrugged, poking her food.
"It's been like that for a while."
"Every day it feels like there are fewer people."
It took her a moment to respond.
"Some people just stopped coming."
Noah frowned.
"And the school stays open."
"For now."
The silence stretched between them.
"Why do we still come?" Noah asked, without looking at her.
Iris thought for a few seconds.
"I don't know."
She took a small bite, as if the answer was somewhere else.
"I guess it's habit."
The bell rang again.
Iris stood up first.
"Shall we go?"
There was still some time before the end of classes.
Noon always felt too far away.
On the way back from school, the sky changed.
The sun appeared without warning, as if the day had decided to improve on its own.
"Aah…" Noah stretched his arms. "Out of nowhere, the day got perfect."
Iris rolled her eyes.
"Perfect is an exaggeration."
"But we can have lunch at my place today. After that, we'll go wherever you want, okay?"
"What do you think your mom made today?" Noah asked, excited.
They arrived shortly after.
"Noah!" Iris's mom smiled when she saw him. "Are you eating here today?"
"As always, right?" he replied, entering like he was part of the house.
It was easy to see how much he liked that environment.
The noise, the conversation, not being alone.
At the table, Iris's mom watched the two of them with amusement.
"So, what are you two up to today?" she asked. "I've never seen two people walk so much like you two."
"Uh…" Iris rested her elbow on the table. "We're going to a shop for super old magical artifacts."
She gave Noah a quick look.
"He believes in this stuff."
"I think it's all just a scam."
"Hey," Noah protested. "Let me live my delusions in peace."
"Delusions are one thing," Iris responded. "Throwing money away is another."
"You say that about everything I like."
"Because everything you like is weird."
"Weird is you picking on me every day."
"And you complaining when I stop."
Iris's mom chuckled softly, already used to it.
"Eat before the food gets cold," she said. "You can finish this discussion later."
They obeyed, still exchanging looks.
Nothing unusual.
They finished lunch and started preparing to leave.
"I'm going home to take a shower and get ready," Noah said, getting up. "I'm not going out in this outfit. I'm way too stylish for that."
The tone was clearly mocking, as if he were saying something serious.
Iris sighed.
"Fine. I'll get ready here too."
"But please… dress well this time."
Noah opened his mouth to respond, but decided to stay quiet.
Iris laughed, remembering the last time he showed up wearing ridiculously colorful shoes — way too flashy, but completely convinced he looked amazing.
He wasn't gone long at home.
He took a quick shower, changed, and started looking for what he was missing.
"Ah, no…" he murmured. "Where did I leave that shoe?"
He searched his room, kicked clothes on the floor, looked under the bed.
Nothing.
"It's impossible," he grumbled. "I'm not going anywhere without it."
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
The magic he used was simple.
Nothing impressive.
Something he learned years ago, almost like a household trick.
It wasn't exactly a search.
It was more like… remembering.
For a moment, the feeling came, but it was confusing.
A light weight on his chest.
A blurry image.
The corner of the room.
The bag tossed aside.
Something dark underneath it.
Noah suddenly opened his eyes.
"Ah."
He bent down, moved the bag with his foot, and found the forgotten shoe, just like always.
"Knew it."
He grabbed the ridiculous shoe like it was the most normal thing in the world.
They arrived at the bus stop almost at the same time.
Iris looked at him first.
Then at his feet.
Then back at him.
"What the hell are those on your feet?" she asked. "They look like shoes my grandfather would wear."
"It's my favorite shoe," Noah replied, clearly offended. "It's so comfortable."
Iris laughed.
"Comfortable doesn't mean acceptable."
"Yeah, it does."
She kept laughing while the bus hadn't arrived yet.
They stood there, talking about small things, as if the day was just that.
The bus came full, nearly overflowing.
They got on in silence and, for a while, stood up, holding wherever they could as the vehicle bumped along the city.
The bus went over a deep hole.
Then another.
And one more.
"Now, these holes in the street are something else," Noah complained, gripping the bar tighter.
Iris agreed immediately, holding the strap above her head.
"Every hole is a broken promise," she said, already irritated.
The bus gave another jolt.
Someone muttered behind them.
"If it depended on these holes," Iris continued, "we'd already know how to fly."
From the back of the bus, someone yelled:
"Carrying cattle, are you, driver?!"
Some people laughed.
The bus went on, as if nothing had happened.
Soon after, it braked suddenly.
Someone almost fell.
A collective grumble echoed through the aisle.
After a few minutes, two people got off.
Iris was the first to throw herself into the vacant seat, resting her forehead against the window.
"How much longer until we get there?" she asked, without even turning her face. "We've been here almost thirty minutes."
Her tone was already heavy.
Noah pulled out his phone, opened the map, and brought the screen closer to his face.
"Uh…" he hesitated. "Just… an hour and ten left."
Iris took a deep breath.
A really deep one.
Her chest swelled like she was preparing for battle.
"What?"
A few heads turned.
"An hour of travel?" Her voice rose without permission. "We're crossing the whole city?!"
An old man in the front row glanced over his shoulder.
A woman pretended not to hear.
"Such a horrible thing," she continued, already completely outraged. "I hate going out with you because of this. You never give me the details!"
Noah sank a little in his seat.
Iris noticed the looks around them.
She lowered her voice but didn't lose her anger.
"You kidnapped me onto this bus, Noah," she murmured, gritting her teeth. "An hour and ten. I could have been sleeping."
Noah gave an awkward smile.
"Well, on the bright side…" he tried. "We can think about life."
Iris slowly turned her face toward him.
"Don't provoke me."
She went back to resting her head against the glass, defeated, as the bus kept moving.
The bus went on in silence for a few seconds…
until it passed over another huge hole.
This time, no one complained.
Iris let out an involuntary laugh.
Noah laughed right after.
Each hole took away one of their complaints, as if, for a moment, complaining mattered less than just laughing together.
Two people got on, talking softly, almost swallowed by the noise of the engine.
"… everything's so uncertain," one of the voices said. "If they don't reach an agreement with the beings, no one knows what will happen."
The bus passed over another hole, muffling the rest of the conversation.
"This city has no structure. What a joke," Noah commented.
Iris agreed, mumbling something inaudible, without even turning her face.
After a long time, the bus finally stopped.
They got off almost along with the remaining few passengers inside.
Noah took the first step onto the ground and grimaced slightly.
His legs felt heavy, half-numb, as if they hadn't realized the trip was over yet.
Iris stretched one leg, then the other, supporting her weight slowly.
"Wow…" she murmured. "It feels like my legs stayed on the bus."
She took a few small steps, testing her body, until the strange feeling began to pass.
The place felt distant from everything.
Some small shops sold food — pastel, weak coffee, simple things that didn't attract attention. Nothing looked new. Nothing looked rushed.
The movement was low.
Few people passed by.
Wide streets for the few who still walked through there.
It felt like the end of the city.
Or just a forgotten piece of it.
Iris looked around, crossing her arms.
"We crossed the whole city… for this?"
Noah didn't respond immediately.
He looked around attentively, as if trying to understand the place before deciding what he thought about it.
"I liked it," he finally said, quietly. "It feels like no one comes here anymore."
They stood there for a few seconds, just observing, before they started walking.
Iris crossed her arms and glanced at him sideways.
"You promised me food on the way there and back." She said, bluntly. "Make sure you deliver."
Noah flashed a quick smile, as if he had been expecting that.
"I will deliver," he replied. "I'll choose now, and you choose on the way back. Deal?"
Iris pretended to think for a second.
"Deal."
They stopped at a simple stall, one of those that looked like it had been there for years.
A faded tarp cast a shadow, tied by makeshift ropes. The smell of hot oil and frying dough filled the air even before they got close.
Some plastic chairs were scattered around uneven tables, which wobbled at the slightest touch. The floor was uneven, marked by old stains that no one bothered to clean anymore.
They sat down without hurry.
The afternoon sun no longer burned as it had before.
It was almost three o'clock, that time when the heat becomes bearable, and the wind starts to gently blow, messing with napkins and empty wrappers.
A small fan spun lazily inside the stall, making more noise than effect.
"Cheese pastel and sugarcane juice," Noah ordered, like it was a very important decision.
Iris rolled her eyes.
"You always order the most basic thing."
"The basics never disappoint," he replied, resting his elbows on the table.
While they waited, they watched the movement around them.
Few people passed by, some stopped to eat, others just crossed the street without looking around much.
When the pastels arrived, too hot to hold properly, Iris blew on them before taking her first bite.
"It's good," she admitted, after biting carefully. "Worth the trip."
Noah smiled, satisfied, burning his tongue without learning anything from it.
"See? I told you."
For a few minutes, they just ate, listening to the distant noise of the street, the crackling of frying food behind the counter, the wind hitting the tarp.
Nothing seemed urgent there.
And, for a moment, the world seemed to fit into that plastic table, into that simple pastel, into that unexpected break in the middle of the day.
After finishing eating, Iris pushed the plastic chair back with a long sigh.
"I don't feel like walking at all," she complained, getting up slowly. "But let's go."
Noah was already on his feet before she finished the sentence.
"Not far to go," he said, too excited for someone who had just crossed the whole city. "You'll see, it's worth it."
Iris made a face, but started walking beside him.
At first, they talked about random things. Nothing important. Loose comments, inside jokes, repeated complaints that didn't need answers anymore.
Without realizing, they walked.
Time passed too quickly while they talked.
When Noah realized, they had already walked almost ten minutes.
"It's this way," he said, pointing to a narrower street.
Iris looked at the place and frowned.
The asphalt was uneven, the buildings closer together. Some windows were closed with old bars, others had faded curtains that barely hid the dark inside.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "This looks like a shortcut from a bad movie."
"Trust me," Noah replied, entering first. "It's faster."
The noise of the main street faded behind them.
The steps echoed more here, the sound different, more closed. The wind almost didn't pass through, and the place felt frozen in time, as if few people chose to walk through there.
Iris adjusted her backpack on her shoulders.
"If we die, I'll haunt you."
"Fair enough," Noah replied, laughing. "At least we'll get there fast."
They kept going down the alley, not knowing that this small detour was leading exactly to where there was no turning back.
After walking a little more, they reached the store.
It looked older than everything else around.
The façade was too big for the narrow street, with peeling paint and a sign faded by time, where the name was almost unreadable. The windows were dusty, full of objects piled up with no apparent order.
Iris stopped for a moment.
"Is this it?" she asked, looking it up and down.
Noah nodded, already walking toward the entrance.
Inside, the place was even bigger than it looked from the outside. Tall shelves piled up to near the ceiling, filled with boxes, old books, metal pieces, things that didn't seem to belong together.
The air was heavy.
There was almost no ventilation, and the heat stayed trapped inside. Sweat began to slowly run down his back, sticking his clothes to his skin.
Each step raised a little dust from the floor.
The place didn't smell bad — it just smelled old.
Time frozen.
Forgotten things.
Iris put a hand to her forehead.
"Wow…" she murmured. "It's too stuffy in here."
Noah, however, seemed too focused to answer.
He was looking around in silence, as if trying to understand the place before deciding what to look for.
The place didn't smell like mold or dirt.
It smelled like old things.
The old wood, paper kept too long, metal left idle for years. A smell that reminded him of a grandmother's house in the countryside, one of those where everything gets kept "for later," even though the later never comes.
It wasn't an unpleasant smell.
It just made time feel slower inside.
As they walked through the store, avoiding boxes and crooked shelves, they ended up separating without noticing. The mess was big enough for that to happen too quickly.
Iris took a few more steps before tripping over something on the floor.
"Ow—"
It was a book.
She bent down, carefully picking up the object and blowing the dust off the cover, curious even before realizing.
She read the title aloud:
"The Three Little Pigs of Acaxiant?"
She furrowed her brow.
"What is this…?"
The book was old, the pages yellowed, the cover worn by time. It didn't look special. Just too old to still be here, forgotten on the floor.
Iris crouched down and started flipping through it, not noticing that Noah was already out of sight.
Noah tripped over a box on the floor.
The sound of metal echoed softly, a quick clink.
"Ow—"
He crouched down and lifted the lid. Inside were several pieces of jewelry mixed together—necklaces and bracelets that looked more like costume jewelry than anything valuable.
Even so, his eyes lit up.
He picked up a necklace and held it up against the shop's dim light.
"Wow… this is actually perfect. This would go so well wi—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
The floor was gone.
For a brief moment, everything went dark.
No walls. No shelves. No sound.
Noah felt his balance slip, stumbling over something invisible, his heart racing before he could even think.
"What…?"
He blinked.
And then he was back.
The jewelry box was still open in front of him. The same dusty smell. The same stifling heat of the shop.
Noah stood still for a few seconds, trying to understand what had just happened.
"Okay… I'm losing it," he muttered.
He shook his head, as if pushing the thought away, and looked back at the scattered accessories.
He grabbed a few more, trying them on his neck, his wrist.
"These are all insanely stylish," he commented to himself. "No idea where I'll wear them, but whatever."
He slipped some onto his arm, completely unaware that he had just crossed something that should not have existed.
Noah kept turning his head from side to side, eyes sharp, absorbing every detail.
"My God… there's so much beautiful stuff here," he murmured. "These really are artifacts."
He picked one object up, set another down, bent to inspect lower shelves, stretched to reach the higher ones.
"I bet all of this is from another country," he added, more to himself than to Íris.
She didn't respond.
She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by stacked books, flipping through one with far too much focus for someone who had only come in "to take a look."
The sounds of the shop felt distant. Occasional footsteps. A shelf creaking. Pages turning slowly.
At some point, Noah noticed the heat had increased. Then that his legs were starting to ache from standing too long. Then that his body no longer reacted with the same urgency.
Íris turned another page. Then another. Then closed the book and picked up a different one beside her, without saying a word.
The shop didn't feel smaller.
Or bigger.
Just… continuous.
When Noah finally looked toward the entrance, the light coming from outside wasn't the same anymore.
"Damn…" he said, surprised. "Have we really been in here this long?"
Íris lifted her eyes from the book, confused, like she had just woken up.
"Hm?" she hummed. "What time is it?"
Neither of them knew.
Íris was now holding four books pressed to her chest, chosen with almost ceremonial care.
Noah, on the other hand, had filled an entire basket with accessories—necklaces, bracelets, rings—picking them up and putting them down again without much logic, guided purely by instinct.
They wandered the shop for a few more minutes, weaving through boxes and narrow aisles, until they finally found the counter hidden between tall shelves and far too many objects for a place that was supposedly still open.
"Finally," Noah muttered, relieved.
The shop seemed to have no interest in being understood.
Noah set the basket down and pulled his phone from his pocket almost automatically.
The screen lit up.
5:30 PM.
He blinked, staring at the time for a few seconds longer than necessary.
"Huh…" he murmured. "Already?"
Íris looked at him, surprised.
"All that?"
For a moment, both of them started searching for the cashier with more urgency than before.
They turned down aisles. Walked back. Dodged stacked boxes and crooked shelves.
The shop wasn't that big—
but right then, it felt endless.
"No way," Íris murmured. "We've already been here."
"I swear I don't remember this aisle," Noah replied, turning his head.
The sensation was unsettling.
As if the space rearranged itself with every step.
Until, finally, they found the counter.
The clerk stood behind a simple desk, almost hidden among old objects.
He was tall, wore thin-framed glasses, and completely ordinary clothes. A plain T-shirt. Dark pants. Nothing that marked him as someone who worked there.
No uniform.
No name tag.
No sign of the shop's name.
He slowly lifted his gaze when he noticed them approaching.
The way he looked at Noah made him feel—just for a moment—like he was being evaluated.
Not as a customer, but as someone who had stayed too long where he shouldn't have.
The feeling passed quickly.
But the clerk kept staring at Noah for too long.
It wasn't aggressive.
Or overly curious.
It was… attentive.
Like he was trying to recognize something.
Noah was the first to look away, adjusting the basket in his hands, clearly uncomfortable.
"Uh…" He cleared his throat. "Good afternoon."
The man didn't respond right away.
He simply tilted his head slightly, eyes still fixed on Noah, as if he were part of an ancient puzzle.
Íris noticed.
"We're going to pay for this," she said, placing the books on the counter, breaking the silence.
Only then did the clerk blink, like he was returning to the present.
"Of course," he replied at last, his tone far too normal for the moment.
The discomfort eased—but didn't disappear.
The clerk kept looking at Noah for too long.
The silence stretched, thick and awkward, like something was about to be said.
The man parted his lips slightly, took a short, restrained breath—as if reconsidering.
Then closed his mouth.
Without saying anything, he began scanning the items one by one.
The dull thud of each object hitting the counter echoed louder than it should have.
Íris watched in silence.
Noah felt the unease grow, as if he had interrupted something important without realizing it.
When the clerk finished, he slid the purchases forward.
For a moment, it looked like he wanted to look at Noah again.
But he didn't.
The sense that something had gone unsaid lingered in the air, even after everything was paid.
For some reason, the clerk stepped out from behind the counter and followed them down the narrow aisle toward the exit.
They were still inside the shop.
He walked a few steps behind them—too close to be coincidence, too far to feel normal. Every time they passed a taller shelf, he slowed down, almost like he was trying not to be seen among the objects.
Noah noticed first.
"Do you see this?" he whispered, without turning his head. "He's… trying to hide."
Íris glanced back quickly.
"I see it," she whispered back. "Did we forget to pay for something?"
Noah frowned.
"I'll check."
He slowed down, ready to turn around, while the clerk stopped near a tall shelf, partially concealed by old boxes.
It was too strange to ignore.
"Hey… everything okay?" Noah asked, stopping suddenly.
The clerk, who had been trying to stay partially hidden, flinched slightly.
"All good," he replied—too fast. "Yes."
Noah stood there a second longer than normal.
Now that he wasn't being watched from a distance, he could actually look at his face.
Before, he had avoided it.
Not out of politeness—out of discomfort.
The shape of his face.
The way he held his shoulders.
An expression too restrained for someone just doing their job.
Noah frowned.
"Do we… know each other?" he asked, uncertain.
The clerk looked away for a second.
Just a second.
But it was enough.
Noah had the strange sensation that he was about to remember something he never knew he had forgotten.
The clerk opened his mouth.
"I—"
"Oh my God, I REMEMBER YOU!" Noah suddenly interrupted, eyes widening. "Nozuki, right? We went to school together!"
The name came out wrong.
Noah didn't notice.
"Wow, it's been forever," he continued, already carried away. "I knew I recognized you, it's been bugging me all day. You just disappeared, remember?"
Nozuki tried to keep up, but the words came too fast.
"I was going to say—"
"You changed a lot," Noah cut in, smiling. "But you still have that look like you're about to judge me if I say something stupid."
Íris watched quietly while Noah talked like he was picking up a conversation that had never ended.
"We're about to go eat," he said, leaving no space. "Me and Íris. You should come with us. Seriously."
Nozuki blinked.
"I—"
"It'll be quick," Noah continued. "Just to catch up. You can't vanish like that and expect me not to notice."
Silence fell for a second.
At some point, Nozuki realized he had stopped trying to speak.
"Okay," he said—before thinking. "I'll go."
The word came out far too easily for something he hadn't decided.
Noah smiled, satisfied, like that answer had always been obvious.
"Knew it," he said. "Let's go."
Nozuki nodded slowly, still trying to understand when exactly he had agreed.
Íris looked away for a moment.
She had the clear impression that Noah hadn't convinced anyone—he had just talked fast enough to avoid interruption.
Nozuki took a deep breath, using a rare pocket of silence.
"Could you… wait a bit?" he finally asked. "I'm closing the shop."
He gestured briefly around them.
"Ten minutes left. We close at six."
Noah blinked, like he'd just remembered where they were.
"Oh!" he said. "Right, right. No problem."
Íris checked her phone.
5:50 PM.
"We'll wait," she added. "No rush."
Nozuki nodded, visibly relieved that, this time, he managed to finish a sentence.
Even so, there was something in the way he moved—a restrained tension, overly careful—like that encounter had unsettled more than just the end of his shift.
The clock read 6:04 PM when Nozuki finally locked the door.
He did it carefully, checking twice, like the gesture mattered more than it should.
Noah didn't wait a second.
"So—ready?"
He was already talking again, stringing comments together about the shop, the time they'd spent inside, how he still had energy to walk some more—too many words, too fast.
Nozuki tried to keep up.
He opened his mouth once.
Then again.
Nothing.
Íris noticed before it became a pattern.
"Hey," she cut in, firm. "It's my turn to choose where we eat now, right?"
Noah stopped mid-sentence.
"Oh… yeah," he said, laughing. "Fair."
Nozuki let out a barely audible sigh.
The street wasn't the same as before.
The sky darkened slowly, and as night arrived, more lights turned on. Some restaurants were opening, tables being dragged outside, voices appearing where there had been silence.
That part of the city, forgotten during the day, now had a different rhythm.
It didn't feel so rural anymore.
Íris suddenly slowed her steps.
"Look…" she said, pointing with her chin. "Soup."
She stared at the place a second longer than necessary.
"I don't know why, but just looking at it made me crave it."
Noah followed her gaze.
"Then let's go," he said immediately, without thinking twice.
Íris smiled, pleased she didn't have to insist.
Nozuki walked just behind them.
In silence.
Hands tucked into his pockets, eyes darting over the lit storefronts, like someone who didn't quite know where he fit.
The feeling was impossible to ignore.
He felt like… a third wheel.
And for the first time since accepting the invitation, he wondered if it had been a mistake.
They reached the restaurant shortly after.
The smell of hot soup greeted them before they even reached the door, wrapping around everything nearby. The atmosphere was cozy, with wooden chairs worn smooth by use and simple but thoughtful decor—plants by the windows, old paintings on the walls, warm yellow lighting that felt far from commercial.
There was a strange sense of home to it.
As if the place existed to slow the world down.
Íris went straight to the counter to order, visibly excited, already commenting on the flavors.
Noah turned to Nozuki, resting his arms on the table.
"So…" he began casually. "How did you end up working at that shop?"
Nozuki opened his mouth.
"Well, um…" he hesitated, clearly embarrassed. "My name is Nozomi."
The correction came out soft, but firm enough not to be ignored.
Noah blinked.
"Oh."
For a second, he actually seemed to think about it.
"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" he asked, genuinely confused.
Across the table, Íris closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow breath.
Nozomi lowered his gaze, a small, awkward smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
It felt like he had been trying to speak for a long time.
And had only just managed to finish the sentence.
"So anyway," Noah continued, leaning his elbow on the table, "how did you end up working there?"
Nozomi took a second before answering.
"It's nothing special," he said with a shrug. "A friend of mine was leaving and recommended me."
He absentmindedly traced the edge of the table with his fingers.
"The job's kind of boring… barely anyone shows up.
I don't even know how the owner keeps that place running," he added with a small smile. "But it pays well enough, so…"
Noah nodded, interested, as if that simple answer carried more weight than it seemed.
Íris returned with the soups soon after, cutting the conversation short before it could go any deeper.
The soup arrived piping hot, too hot to eat without care.
Íris was the first to try it.
"Wow…" she said, blowing on her spoon. "Good thing I chose this."
"You always make good choices when it comes to food," Noah said, laughing.
"Obviously," she replied. "Someone at this table needs standards."
Nozomi smiled softly, watching the two of them.
"Have you always been like this?" he asked without thinking. "Arguing over nothing?"
Noah shrugged.
"It's not arguing. It's advanced communication."
Íris rolled her eyes.
"He says that to justify being unbearable."
"And you say that to pretend you don't like me."
She was about to reply, but ended up laughing instead.
"Idiot."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.
Nozomi felt less out of place now. Still quiet, but comfortable enough to stay.
"I forgot what it was like…" he said thoughtfully. "Going out like this. Without rushing."
"Yeah," Noah replied. "Lately it feels like everything has a deadline. Even conversations."
Íris nodded, stirring her soup.
"We come here to forget that for a bit."
Nozomi nodded along.
They kept talking about small things. School. Teachers who looked far too tired. Strange shops. Nothing important.
When Noah finally checked his phone, his expression changed.
"Guys…"
He turned the screen toward them.
10:00 PM.
Íris' eyes widened.
"What?"
Nozomi blinked, surprised.
"Already?"
None of them could remember exactly when the time had passed.
They only knew it was gone.
They left the restaurant, and the street greeted them with a different feeling.
It was fully night now. Streetlights cast long shadows over the uneven asphalt, and a few lit shop windows brought life to what had seemed almost forgotten during the day. The movement was low, but not absent—people chatting at outdoor tables, a radio playing somewhere, the smell of food mixing with the cool night air.
As they walked toward the bus stop, they passed through the same narrow alley they had used earlier.
Now it felt even tighter. Darker. Yet strangely familiar.
Noah walked ahead, far too energized for someone who had spent hours walking.
"Wow… today was perfect," he said, smiling. "I'm going to look amazing with what I bought."
Íris let out a short laugh.
"You're going to look like my grandfather."
"No way," Noah replied. "My grandfather wouldn't have half this style."
Nozomi laughed quietly.
"But seriously," he said, looking at them as they walked, "how did you end up here? Do you live nearby?"
Íris pointed her thumb toward Noah without slowing down.
"This maniac loves doing things like this.
We spent an hour and forty minutes on the bus just to get here. Because of him."
Nozomi raised his eyebrows.
"All that?"
"All that," Íris confirmed. "With this menace right here."
Noah grinned proudly.
"It's my hobby," he explained. "I love bazaars, weird shops, alternative places… stuff nobody cares about."
Íris sighed dramatically.
"When I grow up, I want to be rich like you," she said. "Rich in time and patience."
"You can't buy that," Noah laughed. "It's a gift."
They kept walking, their conversation blending into the distant sounds of the city.
The alley stayed behind.
So did the restaurant.
And without noticing, the three of them moved together as if they had walked that path before—or as if it was inevitable they would walk it again.
They reached the bus stop shortly after.
The street was quieter now, with fewer cars passing and a light, cold wind brushing against them. Nozomi stopped a few steps before the shelter, adjusting the strap of his bag.
"I live around here," he said simply. "I'll walk from here."
Noah smiled.
"Alright. See you around."
"Take care," Íris added.
Nozomi nodded, a bit shy, and waved.
"Good night."
He stood there for a moment, watching as the two of them boarded the bus, and only turned away when the doors shut with a sharp hiss.
The bus pulled away.
Íris waited a few seconds before speaking.
"You're unbelievable, you know that?"
Noah blinked.
"What?"
"Oh my God," she laughed. "The poor guy kept trying to talk, and you interrupted him. Then tried again, and you interrupted him again. I was so embarrassed for him."
"But I was just excited," Noah defended himself. "I didn't mean to."
Íris shook her head.
"I know. That's what makes it worse."
Noah pulled his phone out of his pocket, distracted, and his expression slowly shifted.
"Wait…" he murmured. "It's 10:20."
Íris leaned in to look.
"And…?"
"And we're getting there almost at midnight."
Her smile vanished instantly.
"Oh my God."
She stayed silent for two seconds.
"You're coming with me."
"What?"
"You're coming with me," she repeated, desperate. "I am not facing my mom alone at that hour."
Noah laughed nervously.
"Alright. We face it together."
The bus hit a deep pothole.
Then another.
"These streets are a nightmare," Noah said, gripping the pole.
Íris let out a tense laugh.
"Every pothole is a broken promise, I swear."
The bus jolted again, pulling nervous laughter out of both of them.
The whole ride became a silent preparation for facing hell.
But between one bump and the next, they laughed—tired, worried, but together.
And for some reason, that felt like enough.
After a while, the bus finally stopped.
They got off almost in silence, the exhaustion finally hitting now that the adrenaline was gone. The street was dark, calm in a way that only made sense if you knew what was coming next.
They reached Íris' house and stopped at the door.
Íris held the key, took a deep breath, and whispered:
"I think she's asleep."
Noah leaned closer, like that would help.
"Then go slowly."
The key turned carefully. The door opened inch by inch.
For a second, everything went right.
The light turned on.
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT TIME IT IS?!"
They both froze.
Íris' mother stood there, arms crossed, expression hard—clearly waiting far longer than she wanted to admit.
"My God," she continued. "Do you two even know what time it is?!"
Íris opened her mouth.
"Mom, I—"
"Don't start," she cut in. "I called. I texted. I waited."
Noah took half a step back, already regretting every life choice he had ever made.
"It was my fault," he tried. "We lost track of time—"
"Of course it was your fault," she replied without hesitation. "It always is."
Íris closed her eyes.
What followed was inevitable.
An entire hour-long lecture.
About responsibility.
About schedules.
About danger.
About trusting too much.
The two of them sat on the couch, listening in silence, exchanging occasional knowing glances, fully aware there was no escape.
When it finally ended, the house went quiet again.
Íris collapsed against the back of the couch.
"Worth it," she murmured.
Noah smiled, exhausted.
"Worth it."
And despite everything, neither of them regretted it.
It was already past one in the morning when Noah got home.
He entered quietly, tossed his keys somewhere, kicked off his shoes without care. The house was the same as always—too big, too quiet—but that night, he didn't have the energy to notice.
Exhaustion won.
Noah fell onto the bed fully dressed, turned to the side, and closed his eyes.
The day had been too long to feel the emptiness.
And for the first time in a long while, he fell asleep before the silence could bother him.