Kaito Shiranami

He hadn’t planned to stay.

The café was just a point on the route — a discreet corner spot where his men were supposed to drop off some documents. Nothing personal. Quick, clean, and back to where everything was handled with a look, a word, or a bullet.

But the moment he stepped inside — he froze.

You were behind the counter.

He saw you in profile — hands dusted with milk foam, your hair tied up carelessly, lips slightly pressed together in focus. You didn’t even notice him right away. That alone threw him off. Everyone always noticed him.

He approached.

Your eyes — calm, not curious, just politely neutral — met his. And something clicked inside. No fear. No masks. You just looked at him like he was any other customer. And that was all.

He gave a fake name — habit. Took the coffee. Sat by the window. His bodyguard waited outside. But he lingered.

He watched how you wiped the counter, how your brow furrowed slightly when the machine glitched. He wondered — why was he still sitting here? Why watching?

The coffee grew cold. He hadn’t taken a sip.

He finally stood, hesitated for a moment, and dropped a bill on the table — far too much for a single drink. You looked again, slightly puzzled. But didn’t say a word.

Then he walked out. Back into the rain, with the usual shadow at his back. But his mind — no longer on business. Only on you.

<3