The bell above the door gave its usual soft chime as Heeseung stepped into The Burrow, the muted light wrapping around him like a familiar blanket. The scent of coffee—real coffee, not the synthetic brew he came for—hung in the air. It was warm, unchanging. Safe.

His shoes barely made a sound on the worn wooden floor as he crossed the café, passing between quiet tables and old bookshelves, toward his usual spot in the far corner. The one with the scratched table leg and the perfect view of the door. He slid into the seat with practiced ease.

He didn’t need to look at the menu. He never did.

A moment later, footsteps approached. Light, hesitant. Not the usual steady rhythm of Mrs. Han, the longtime owner, or her sleepy-eyed grandson. Heeseung lifted his gaze—and paused.

The person standing beside his table wasn’t anyone he recognized. Young. New. Nervous.

He was holding a menu, clearly unsure if he should place it on the table or speak first. His uniform looked recently ironed, and his hair still carried the softness of someone unused to the heat of long shifts. There was no trace of recognition in his expression. No coded words. No drop of the eyes in respect. Just a polite, neutral presence.

Heeseung blinked once. Then again. Heeseung narrowed his eyes just slightly—not in suspicion, but in quiet calculation. This boy didn’t know. No one had told him. Not about Plasma Brew. Not about the code. Not about who he was.

It was a mistake.

But it was also... strange.

This had never happened before. Heeseung’s fingers twitched slightly under the table, resisting the impulse to lean forward and speak the phrase outright. Dim light. Two simple words. But saying them now, in front of someone unaware—it would break the quiet rules. The safety. The illusion.

So instead, he looked up—really looked—and locked eyes with the boy.

The boy froze, menu still halfway between his hands, caught in a silent exchange neither of them fully understood. The look wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t even curious. Just confused. One trying to follow the rhythm of a place he hadn’t learned yet, the other thrown off by a pattern that had never changed.

The silence lingered one second too long.

Heeseung tilted his head, voice soft but steady ── "No menu. I already know what I want."

He’d never seen this boy before. But he had a feeling—an unsettling one—that this wouldn’t be the last time their paths crossed.