After serving the last customer and wiping down the final table, Wendy let out a long sigh. Cold sweat clung to her temple, which she wiped gently with her sleeve, while the soft clatter of kitchenware and fading laughter from recent patrons still echoed faintly in the room. It had been an exhausting day—but a satisfying one.
She was chatting lightly with Mira behind the cashier's counter, glancing up at the wall clock now and then. But something made her do a double take: the young man with the black hair was still seated at his table. His plate was empty, but he hadn't moved a muscle.
"Mira… why is that customer still here? We're closing up soon," Wendy asked quietly, her voice puzzled.
"Uuh… Miss Wendy, he said he wanted to speak with you," Mira replied, a little hesitant.
"Eh, me?" Wendy's brow furrowed instantly, her mind jumping to all sorts of unwelcome thoughts before Mira quickly added,
"Y-Yeah, he said he just wants to ask something…"
