The clock on the lecture hall wall struck 5:10 PM just as Elysia shoved her books into her bag and rushed out, nearly tripping over her own feet. Her last class had run longer than usual, and Mr. Renner—the café manager—hated tardiness. Especially from her, who was still new to the job.
Her worn sneakers slapped against the pavement as she weaved through the thinning crowd of students. Wind tangled her long hair, and she hastily pulled it into a messy bun, her breath growing shallow with every stride. The sun was already dipping, casting long shadows across the buildings.
"Come on, come on..." she whispered, darting across the street.
By the time she reached the back alley behind Café Mornings, she could hear the low chatter of early evening customers and the familiar clink of porcelain mugs. She slipped through the employee entrance, her chest heaving.
"You're late," barked Mr. Renner without even turning to look.
"I'm sorry. My class—"
"I don't care. Apron on. Tables three and five are waiting. And smile, for God's sake. No one wants a gloomy face serving them coffee."
Elysia bit back the sting. She nodded silently, grabbing her apron and notepad.
As she stepped out to the floor, the warmth of the café did nothing to ease the cold pit in her stomach. Her eyes flicked around at the customers, finding Table 3—a young couple—and Table 5, where a sharply dressed man in a black suit sat alone, tapping something into his phone.
His gaze lifted the moment she approached. He looked detached but observant, as if nothing around him missed his notice. His eyes were... unsettling.
"Good evening, sir. What can I get you?" she asked, voice soft but professional.
His gaze lingered on her face for a second too long. "Black coffee. No sugar."
She nodded quickly and turned away, but she could still feel the weight of his stare on her back.
---
By 8 PM, her feet throbbed and her back ached. Mr. Renner had barked at her three more times, and one of the regulars had grabbed her wrist a little too tightly when he asked for more cream. She muttered her goodbyes and left through the back door, the darkness outside thick and unsettling.
The streets were quieter than usual. Normally, she took the bus home, but her shift had ended too late—she'd missed the last one. She checked her wallet, already light to begin with, and sighed. Not even enough for a cab.
So she walked.
And walked.
The streetlights flickered above her as the path twisted away from the familiar rows of cafés and bookstores. Her shoes scuffed against uneven pavement as she passed a narrow road lined with old buildings and a bar tucked between two grimy storefronts. Laughter and music bled into the night from behind its fogged windows.
She picked up her pace.
That was when she heard them.
"Hey, sweetheart."
Two men leaned against the side of the building. One of them—tall, lean, eyes too alert—stepped into her path.
"You walking all by yourself this late? Dangerous out here."
Elysia tried to move past him, but the second man blocked the other side. Her heart began to pound.
"I—I'm fine, thank you," she said, voice tight.
"Oh, we can see that. Real fine," the second one smirked, his breath reeking of alcohol as he stepped closer.
"Please, let me go."
One of them reached out, brushing a finger down her arm.
She slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!"
But that only seemed to excite them.
The taller one grabbed her wrist tightly, yanking her close. She cried out, struggling in vain.
"Help! Somebody—help!"
The alley seemed to swallow her voice.
Until it didn't.
Suddenly, a blur of motion struck the man holding her. A sickening crunch echoed as he flew back, colliding hard with the wall. The second man didn't even have time to react.
The stranger moved like a shadow. Precise. Merciless.
A fist collided with the second man's jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. The air filled with the sound of fists against flesh—raw, brutal, unrelenting. Bones cracked. Blood splattered.
Elysia backed away, breathless, clutching her wrist as she stared at the figure who had materialized from the night.
Tall. Dressed in all black. Unshaken.
It was the man from the café.
The man in the suit.
He stood now, towering over the groaning bodies at his feet, his knuckles bloodied but steady. His gaze didn't shift, didn't tremble. And when he finally looked at her, it wasn't with concern.
It was with recognition.
Elysia swallowed hard. "Thank you... I don't know what would've—"
He stepped forward, his presence sharp and direct. "You work at Cafe," he said quietly.
She nodded, uncertain.
He pulled out a photograph from the inside of his coat and held it out. "Have you seen this man?"
Elysia leaned closer. Her eyes widened slightly.
"Yes," she said.
She remembered the man clearly—he had come into the café just yesterday. She had served him personally. There had been something off about him—his eyes had been shadowed with unease, his shoulders tense, as if he carried the weight of something too heavy to name. He hadn't said much, just ordered quietly and left soon after.
"I don't know anything more about him," she added honestly.
Aldric's eyes stayed on her for a moment, unreadable. Then he pulled a small card from his coat and handed it to her. "If you see him again, contact me immediately."
She accepted it without question.
"There will be a reward," he said simply. "A large one."
Before she could say another word, he turned and walked away without pause or farewell, disappearing into the shadows like he had never been there.
Elysia stood frozen, the card clenched in her hand, the night slowly swallowing the last trace of him.
---