The gentle clink of dishes had long faded from the estate kitchen, and the soft lighting of Luna's room wrapped around her like a calm blanket. The window was cracked slightly open, letting in the cool scent of night air.
Milo lay curled on her desk beside a half-used notebook, tail flicking as if guarding her pens.
Luna sat cross-legged on her bed, fresh from her night routine, hair slightly damp and a fluffy towel slung around her shoulders. Her phone glowed in her hands, ringing softly.
Kana picked up after two rings.
"Luna!" her voice beamed through the speaker, warm and familiar.
Luna grinned. "Kana. You should've seen the new cat café. It's basically a paradise now. Sinful, actually."
"Sinful?" Kana laughed lightly. "How sinful are we talking?"
"The break room," Luna said dramatically, "has everything. Game consoles. Snack bar. Coffee that could rival Emmerich's stash. There's even a private shower room just for me—like the universe knew I was the only female employee."
Kana gasped. "You are spoiled."
"I know. And I love it. But it's honestly bad because how am I supposed to focus on work when temptation is right there in every direction?"
Kana giggled. "You don't. You suffer like the rest of us mortals."
Luna leaned back against her pillows, relaxed. "How about you? You sound better today."
Kana hesitated for just a breath. "I've been spending a lot more time with Mary. I only do a few modeling gigs now—more of my time goes into vlogging. Daily stuff. Mary likes joining in sometimes."
Luna smiled. "That's nice. I'm glad you're slowing down a little."
"We've started doing afternoon walks together," Kana added, voice lighter for a moment. "Just around the garden or sometimes by the park. It helps her sleep better."
Then the silence shifted.
It stretched.
Luna's heart clenched a bit.
"Kana?" she said softly.
Kana's voice, when it came, cracked like delicate porcelain. "She's… getting thinner, Luna."
Luna sat up straighter, her voice instantly gentle. "Take your time."
A shaky breath on the other end.
"She used to be able to do a whole walk with me," Kana whispered, "but lately she gets winded before we reach the end of the block. The doctors said… we might have to consider a wheelchair. Maybe soon."
Luna closed her eyes, steadying herself as her fingers gripped the blanket on her lap.
"I'm so sorry, Kana," she said quietly. "That must be so hard to watch."
"It is," Kana admitted, voice breaking into a sniffle. "But I don't want her to see me sad. I want to make her smile. Every day I get with her is something I want her to remember as light, not worry."
Luna felt tears prick behind her eyes. She opened her photo gallery, instinctively scrolling until she found the picture—their camping trip, months ago. Mary smiling under a starry sky, wrapped in a jacket two sizes too big, her head leaning on Kana's shoulder. Luna beside them, holding up a burnt marshmallow like a trophy.
"I'm going to visit this weekend," Luna said, voice firm. "We can all hang out again. Maybe book another getaway, like that camping trip. Doesn't have to be far. Just somewhere warm, calm. Just us."
Kana was quiet again, but this time it was the silence of someone trying not to cry.
"Thank you, Luna," she finally whispered. "You always know what to say."
"I mean it," Luna replied. "Let's give Mary another memory that'll make her laugh so hard she forgets the rest."
Kana let out a soft, choked laugh. "Deal."
After they said their goodnights, Luna set her phone down gently. She stared at the camping photo again, thumb resting on Mary's smile.
She thought of her therapy. Her training. Of Cherry's sharp lessons and Emmerich's steady support. Of how her world had narrowed after the tragedy—and how now, bit by bit, it was widening again.
But this… this was a reminder that time still moved, and pain didn't wait.
With a sigh, Luna turned off the light. Milo curled up at her feet as she slid under the covers.
And before sleep took her, Luna whispered to herself:
"I need to plan something. Soon. Something perfect—for Mary."
The morning air was crisp and gentle as Luna ran the familiar path circling the estate grounds. Her steps were light, her breathing steady, and Milo, too dignified for early morning jogs, remained curled in her warm cat bed, thoroughly uninterested in her discipline.
By the time the sun was a golden blush on the horizon, Luna had already finished her run and made her way into the kitchen, still flushed with post-exercise energy and a sense of quiet purpose.
The kitchen staff blinked in surprise as Luna announced with a grin, "I'll make breakfast for everyone today."
A few hesitant protests from the chefs—more out of habit than resistance—were quickly waved off. Luna rolled up her sleeves, tied her hair back, and got to work.
She moved with ease, even joy:
—Slicing soft bread for chicken sandwiches with crisp lettuce and her signature sesame glaze.
—Mixing a light vegetable salad with yuzu dressing and a sprinkle of sesame seeds.
—Dipping and frying an array of tempura vegetables—sweet potato, bell pepper, mushrooms—until perfectly crisp.
—And finally, stacking small, warm Japanese pancakes on a plate with sweet red bean paste and honey on the side.
By the time the scent filled the kitchen, the staff had given up trying to argue. Instead, they watched with quiet amusement and fondness as Luna plated the dishes like a proud caterer presenting a feast.
She even prepared a personal tray.
For Emmerich.
She entered the breakfast room balancing the tray with a small flourish. Emmerich, already seated and browsing a document, looked up—and smiled, eyes softening.
"You're really true to your word," he said as she set the tray before him.
"Of course I am," Luna said brightly, placing the silver cup of freshly brewed coffee at his side with mock ceremony. "I didn't forget your coffee, either."
Emmerich chuckled, a rare, unguarded sound. "You've outdone yourself, little chef."
Luna beamed and slid into her own seat with a satisfied sigh, stealing a piece of tempura before her dad could say anything about table manners.
They ate quietly, the kind of peaceful meal shared between people who didn't need to fill silence with words. Just warmth.
Later, while preparing to head to the café, Luna checked her phone and snorted at the blinking notification.
Ken:
Get to work on time. Don't annoy Leroy the second you arrive. 😒
Luna, amused, typed back:
Luna:
That's your job, Ken. Not mine. 😇
His reply was immediate.
Ken:
It's my subtle cry for help. Come rescue me from Captain Frosty. 😭
Luna burst into laughter, thumb already flying over her screen.
Luna → Leroy:
Hey, don't bully Ken too much today. He's fragile after all the vacation pampering. 😏
A minute later, her phone buzzed again.
Leroy:
No promises. He asked for decaf. I nearly filed a report for that alone.
The soft hum of the car engine accompanied Luna as she gazed out the window, morning sun filtering through city buildings and painting patterns of light on her face.
She was replaying Ken's dramatic texts in her head, stifling a laugh, when her eyes caught something in the side mirror.
A car.
Two black sedans behind. One peeled away at a turn. The other stayed.
Luna's eyes narrowed. Her heartbeat quickened. It wasn't one of theirs. She knew their rotations. Their plates. Their signature lack of drama.
Then the driver's voice came, low and steady. "Miss Luna, please buckle up."
That tone—calm, professional—meant something was wrong.
Luna clicked her seatbelt into place with trembling fingers and immediately texted her dad:
Luna: Dad. I'm being followed. Not one of ours. Driver's handling it. I'm okay.
She fired a second message to Ken:
Luna: Something came up. Urgent. Might be late. Don't freak out.
Her phone buzzed before she could pocket it—Dad Calling.
Luna put in her earpods and answered, voice low but composed. "Dad. I'm okay. Just breathing."
Emmerich's voice was sharp with control, but underneath it was steel worry. "Status."
"We're trying to lose them now. I've buckled up. Driver's making a detour."
"I'm tracking the vehicle now. We'll lock down that car's identity. Luna, listen to me—"
"I'm listening."
"You don't have to go to work today. Go to the safehouse. Stay there."
Luna looked out the window as the driver made a sudden turn and began weaving through a more commercial district. Behind them, the tail tried to keep up but was clearly losing ground.
"We'll be fine," she murmured. "But Dad… today's the reopening. I can't not show up. Not after all the work everyone put in. Not after all you did."
Silence. Then a sigh from Emmerich. "I'll send more undercover agents to the café and along your route. You'll be covered."
Luna nodded, even though he couldn't see. "Okay. Thanks, Dad."
Minutes later, the vehicle slid smoothly into the back entrance of a nondescript parking structure attached to one of their lesser-known safehouses. Staff were already waiting. Efficient. Silent. Armed.
Luna was escorted inside briefly as the driver arranged the transfer to a modified casual car—an unassuming pale blue sedan that looked like it belonged to any working college student.
Inside, Luna removed her jacket, changed into her café uniform over a plain tee, pulled on a cap, and tucked her hair beneath it, hiding the familiar gleam of her silver locks.
As she stepped toward the car, one of the agents handed her a slim black wristband—panic signal built in.
Luna slid into the driver's seat and adjusted the mirror.
"You don't have to do this," one of the staff said softly.
She smiled faintly. "I know. But I want to."
She drove off without looking back, her mind shifting into focus. There were cats to greet. Customers to serve. And a staff who needed to see that their Luna—the one who made the café feel like home—was still there, standing strong.
The soft chime above the employee entrance door barely made a sound, but the moment Luna stepped inside the familiar scent of roasted beans, vanilla, and warm wood greeted her like an old friend.
She paused just behind the threshold, hand still on the door, her breath hitching. Her fingers—cold despite the warm morning—trembled slightly. The aftermath of being followed still clung to her like fog. But then—
"Luna! You made it!" Ken called from behind a precariously balanced tray of parfaits.
The café was alive. Buzzing. Full of light and laughter and fur.
Luna exhaled slowly, the quiver in her hand steadied by the grounding hum of voices and cats weaving between people's feet. Her lips curled into a grin.
"Cutting it close," Ken groaned, handing a latte to a customer with practiced grace. "Another minute and I would've passed out from getting pulled all over the place"
Luna quickly tied her apron. "Fear not! Your knight in black and cream is here."
"You mean black and tan," Ken retorted, pointing to her café uniform. "Also you owe me for emotional fatigue caused by a late knight in black and tan."
She giggled. "Fine. But you owe me a creampuff later."
Ken sighed, dragging his feet back toward the counter. "It's always the sweets with you."
With a bounce in her step, Luna began circulating around the tables, taking a tray with her and offering refills of water and snacks to guests. When she passed one corner booth, her eyes lit up.
"Madam Mu!" she greeted warmly.
The older woman, regal as ever in her luxurious shawl, looked up with joy. "Ah, my Luna dear. A whole month is too long."
Luna poured her fresh tea and opened a packet of the café's signature sesame rice crackers. "We missed you."
"I missed Baozi so much I nearly committed a felony just to see him." Madam Mu dramatically fanned herself, "If I'd stayed away another week, I'd have kidnapped that chubby rascal."
Luna burst out laughing, the tension in her spine loosening further. "Well, he's waiting for you—probably sleeping on your table again."
As she moved toward the back to check on the cats, Baozi—round, fluffy, and eternally unimpressed—leaped down from his perch and padded over to Madam Mu's table with a slow tail flick.
Meanwhile at the counter, Leroy was in machine-like focus, handling orders with speed and polish. But his eyes had caught the moment Luna walked in. He'd seen that faint tremble, that half-second where she stood frozen.
Something was off.
Leroy wiped a mug dry with mechanical efficiency, his gaze trailing her through the reflection of the glass case. She was smiling, laughing even, but her left hand gripped the tray tighter than necessary. Her movements had that faint over-correction—controlled, but hiding something.
He was just about to leave the counter, intent on checking in with her casually, when—
"Leroy, I need you upstairs!" Ken called from the stairwell. "A school club just mobbed the loft! I'll handle the orders down here!"
Leroy turned with a glare that could curdle milk. "Ken, I swear—"
Ken held up both hands in surrender. "I'll owe you a week of bathroom duty!"
Leroy growled, but took the espresso he was finishing and headed upstairs, muttering threats under his breath. Ken gave him a sheepish grin once he was out of sight, then glanced briefly toward Luna.
"Glare all you want, Leroy, but you can't hurt me since I got a knight in black and tan to my rescue, heh." Ken mused.
Across the room, Luna knelt near the play area. The cats were flocking to her, as if sensing something in her that needed soothing. Mikan perched behind her like a silent guardian, while a tabby pawed at her apron strings. Baozi, done with his rice cracker commission, ambled over and promptly flopped onto Luna's lap.
She smiled gently as she stroked their fur, her hands finally still.
The café was alive again.
And so was she—perhaps a little shaken, but everything was just as it should be.
The café had finally emptied, the last few customers ushered out with polite bows and sleepy cats weaving past their ankles. The soft hum of dishwashers and broom swipes was replaced by silence and the occasional chirp of Mikan playing with a loose bottle cap.
Luna flopped onto the largest bean bag in the break room lounge with a long groan, her arms splayed dramatically above her head.
"I can't believe this is the first time I've sat down all day," she muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her shoes were kicked off, socks mismatched, and her apron tossed carelessly over a chair. "The lounge's a lie if you can't even enjoy it on opening day."
The lights were dimmed to a cozy glow, casting shadows across the shelves filled with board games, manga, and the small refrigerator stocked with snacks. A console's startup music played faintly in the background, abandoned halfway by an exhausted George earlier.
She closed her eyes and let the softness of the bean bag swallow her whole. Only a few minutes, she told herself. Just a few minutes of—
"What are you doing?" Ken's voice broke through her moment of bliss.
Luna cracked one eye open.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm being a bean in a bag."
Ken squatted next to her with an exasperated groan. "You can't sleep here. Also, pantry. Raided. Chaos. Mayday."
Luna rolled her head toward him. "You mean to tell me we got raided again?"
Ken threw up his hands. "Half our biscuits are gone, the cup noodles were decimated, and someone opened the emergency chocolate stash. I demand justice."
Luna smirked, rubbing her temples. "You could hire someone new, you know. Someone who isn't you or me or Leroy or George to organize that disaster zone."
Ken looked like she'd proposed climbing Everest.
"I don't have time to train a newbie," he protested weakly.
Luna raised a single brow. "More like you don't want to deal with another coworker who's more suave than you."
He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Luna, how could you—"
She poked his side with a sharp jab. "Because I know you."
Ken huffed, then mumbled, "If I do hire someone, it'll be a girl. So you can't keep monopolizing the ladies' shower room."
Luna gave him a slow, sardonic look. "I am the only girl on staff."
"Exactly," he replied smugly.
She groaned, burying her face in the bean bag. "I should've taken that marketing job at a bakery."
Ken opened his mouth for another retort, but then a soft whistle interrupted them.
Leroy leaned into the doorway, arms crossed, towel slung over his shoulder. "You two done with your sitcom episode?"
Ken, eyes lighting up like a kid seeing his cue, turned to Luna. "I just remembered. I left the lock codes at the counter, and the back gate's sensor is acting up. I'll close up—you two go get ramen. That's an order."
Luna blinked. "Wait, I thought you were hungry?"
Ken waved her off as he backed out. "The honor of feeding the café's princess is all yours, Leroy."
Luna shot up. "Ken!"
But he was gone—already scampering down the stairs like he was escaping a crime scene.
Leroy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Subtle as a brick, that one."
Luna laughed. "He really is."
Still, she grabbed her bag and joined Leroy at the door.
"Ramen?" he offered casually.
She nodded. "Only if you're paying."
He gave a rare small smile. "Deal."
They stepped into the cool night, the neon café sign flickering behind them as the shop settled into its nighttime silence. And despite the lingering nerves from earlier, the walk beside Leroy was calm—uncomplicated.
A warm ramen shop awaited them a block away.
The little bell above the ramen shop door jingled as Luna and Leroy stepped inside, the warm scent of broth, grilled pork, and fried tempura enveloping them like a familiar hug. The wooden interior was cozy as ever, with soft jazz playing on a low-quality speaker in the corner, and a few locals already tucked into their bowls.
"Welcome back!" the shop owner called from behind the counter, beaming as he wiped his hands on a towel. "Been a while!"
Luna raised a hand with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, we've been buried in work."
The owner chuckled knowingly. "That Ken boy is still having a hard time managing huh?"
Luna snorted, "Yup!"
She then slid into their usual booth near the back. Leroy followed, shrugging off his jacket and placing it neatly beside him. Their bowls came quickly, steaming with rich broth and piled with noodles, pork belly, and garnishes.
The owner's wife even dropped off a plate of golden shrimp tempura with a wink.
"On the house," she said. "You two always bring good luck to the place."
Luna laughed, eyes sparkling. "I promise I'll stop by more often if shrimp tempura is part of the deal."
The old woman grinned and patted Luna's shoulder before heading back.
As they began eating, Luna relaxed, twirling noodles with her chopsticks and sighing with satisfaction. Leroy, more reserved as always, quietly sipped his broth but kept his eyes on her.
"So," he said after a beat, "what've you been up to lately? Aside from playing games and imagining the next day off as soon as we got from work."
Luna laughed and perked up. "Training! You gotta meet Cherry!"
Leroy raised an eyebrow. "Cherry?"
"My trainer," she said proudly, leaning forward slightly. "She's… terrifying. Like, truly terrifying. The first week, I thought I was gonna die. She didn't even give me time to blink before I was flat on the mat."
Leroy listened with a rare smile, resting his cheek on his knuckles as Luna continued animatedly.
"But she's good. So good. These days, I can actually stay on my feet for the whole session. Mostly. I mean, only three times a week now—on my off days from the café—because trying to train and serve tea to old ladies would land me in a coma. Not even kidding."
Luna leaned back dramatically, slurping her noodles. "Still, it feels good. Like I'm finally doing something real. Stronger, y'know?"
Leroy gave a small nod, letting her words wash over him. He knew exactly how brutal Cherry's training could be—after all, she was his cousin. But that was a detail Luna didn't need to know. Not now. It was safer this way, for both of them.
As he reached for his tea, Luna caught sight of the faint smear of red on his elbow.
"Hold still," she said, setting her chopsticks aside and digging into her bag.
Leroy blinked. "What—"
"Don't argue," she said, already peeling open a small bandage. "You always shrug off stuff like this. Just because it's small doesn't mean it's fine."
With practiced care, she cleaned the cut and pressed the bandage gently over it. Her fingers were warm, and for a second, Leroy stilled, watching her expression soften in that focused way she always had when she cared for something fragile—be it a cat or a friend.
"There," she said, sitting back. "Try not to wrestle with a tiger next time."
Leroy's smile was barely there but genuine. "I'll keep that in mind."
The shop owner returned then with two small bowls of extra soup and gestured toward them with a grin. "You two coming in always boosts my wife's mood. Says it makes the place feel alive again. So come by more, yeah?"
Luna chuckled, cheeks flushing faintly. "You sure it's not just us being loud slurpers that makes us more tolerable?"
"Could be," the old man winked. "But she says it's the way you two sit together, all warm and quiet. Reminds her of when we were young."
Luna covered her mouth, laughing softly.
Leroy looked down, ears faintly tinged pink, but his grin was wider than usual.
They clinked their cups of tea together.
"To ramen," Luna said.
"To quiet nights," Leroy replied.
And for a little while, neither the shadows outside nor the weight of secrets mattered—just the warm broth, easy laughter, and the comfort of shared silence.