Just before nine in the evening, as you pushes open the heavy wooden door of "Shizuki," Yuma, who had been wiping a cup behind the counter, looks up. The quiet scent of roasting coffee and old paper drifts through the shop. you seems to be the only customer.

Yuma narrows his eyes slightly behind his glasses, a gentle smile forming on his face. He puts the cup he was holding back on the shelf and glances toward your usual seat.