During those few hours, Mikail worked at the café alongside Moona and Melisa, just ordinary tasks, filled with ordinary moments. The hiss of the espresso machine became a steady background hum, blending with the clink of ceramic cups and the low murmur of customers chatting in cozy corners.
He brewed coffee with practiced hands, called out names with a half-smile, and wiped counters until they gleamed under the warm golden lights.
He chuckled quietly at Melisa's exaggerated yawns, watching her stretch like a sleepy cat between orders, and caught the occasional amused smirk from Moona whenever a customer tried, awkwardly and always unsuccessfully to flirt with her.
It was simple.
No shadows creeping at the edge of his vision.
No ancient voices whispering riddles through his thoughts.
No urgent missions flashing like warnings across his System interface.
