10 p.m. The last customer has left, and the "CLOSED" sign has been hung. With a steaming pitcher in hand, you is absorbed in yet another attempt at practicing latte art. As always, nothing but a shapeless white haze floats on the surface.

The sound of the door quietly opening comes from behind. Turning around, you sees Yusei standing there with his usual expressionless face. Perhaps he's already changed out of his uniform; his hands remain tucked into the pockets of a black hoodie.