"...I don't like the look on that guy's face."
Victor muttered the words low under his breath, his eyes narrowed like a blade waiting to be drawn. He stood behind the café's counter, the glow of warm pendant lights casting a soft golden hue over his sharp features. His arms were folded, posture relaxed—but there was nothing casual about the glare he leveled across the room.
Yuzuki, counting cash at the register, didn't even glance up at first. "You don't like anyone," he replied flatly, slipping the notes into the drawer before finally joining Victor at his side. He followed the silent cue, shifting his gaze to the far table near the corner window—half-shaded by trailing vines and a rustling curtain.
At first glance, the guy seemed normal enough. Average height. St. Freya uniform. Hands stuffed in his pockets, posture slouched in that too-cool-to-care sort of way. His hair was messily stylish, his features sharp, but forgettable. Too forgettable.
Then he smiled.
Or rather—grinned. Wide. Thin. Just as a group of girls walked past the glass outside, skirts fluttering in the afternoon breeze. His eyes followed—lingering too long, too low.
"...Oh. Yeah. Nope. I see it," Yuzuki muttered, shoulders sagging as realization set in. The grin on the stranger's face ticked slightly wider, his gaze now trailing another passing student with a little too much interest.
"Creep," Victor muttered coldly.
"Lowlife," Yuzuki agreed.
They exchanged a look—silent, brief, but heavy with mutual disgust. Victor tilted his head slightly, nodding toward the corner. Yuzuki frowned, but exhaled and gave a resigned shrug. Then opened one eye, meaningfully, in the guy's direction.
Victor cracked his knuckles. "Alright, I'll break his bones."
"Stop, stop, stop!" Yuzuki hissed, slapping a hand over Victor's mouth with practiced precision. "Not here, man!"
The two ducked into the back kitchen in a flurry of movement, leaving behind a few confused glances from nearby tables. Once inside, Yuzuki pulled his hand back with an exaggerated sigh.
Victor stared. "What? I thought we were on the same page."
"I thought the page was 'Let him be unless he does something actually illegal.'"
Victor blinked. "Why would we let a creep be?"
"Because!" Yuzuki waved a hand in the air, his voice rising. "Because you're the new student council president and you can't just go around breaking people's bones on suspicions alone!"
Victor considered this. "Fair point." He nodded solemnly.
Yuzuki rubbed his temples. "This is why I'm losing hair."
The door swung open with the scent of sugar and spice trailing behind it. Mei stepped in, a tray of cookies balanced in one hand, a small towel draped over her wrist. She set them down on the prep table, the gentle heat radiating from the batch warming the air.
"What are you two whispering about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She was in her chef's uniform—simple, practical, slightly flour-dusted—and it made her look completely in her element.
Victor popped one of the cookies into his mouth before it cooled. "Mm. Perfect," he said around the heat. "Bit hot, though." Earning unimpressed looks from the two of them.
"Oh, you," came a voice like laughter dipped in honey.
Elysia leaned in close, her pink curls brushing his cheek. She pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, a spark of mischief in her gaze.
"Hotter than me?"
Victor smirked—subtle, unbothered. "Of course. You're hotter." His words were soft, offhanded.
Mei blinked. Then blinked again. A faint flush bloomed across her cheeks like a sudden heatwave, and she looked down, lips parting wordlessly as her fingers twitched near the tray.
Victor tilted his head, noticing the shift—but not the cause.
Elysia giggled beside him, twirling once like a ballerina no one else could see.
"Ohhh, she's melting. How cuteee~"
"Really?" Yuzuki sighed, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. "You're gonna flirt in front of me now?"
Victor shrugged. "Wasn't trying to."
"I was watching the floor," Yuzuki grumbled as he glanced through the kitchen window—only to immediately straighten up, stiff and sharp. His eyes locked on the creep from earlier.
And the creep was now staring directly at Kiana, who was skipping toward the front tables with her usual bright grin, completely unaware of the gaze fixed on her.
Victor saw it too. And his eyes darkened.
"...Oh hell no," Yuzuki muttered.
Before the man could so much as lean forward, a gust of wind swept through the café.
No breeze.
Just Yuzuki.
He moved like a thread pulled taut through space, his shoes barely making a sound as they touched the polished floor. One moment, Kiana was mid-step, humming softly as she turned with a tray in her hands—and the next, Yuzuki stood directly between her and the man in the corner.
His arms hung loosely at his sides. His expression neutral.
Eyes closed.
"Welcome," he said, voice soft but clear. "What can I get you?"
The man's smirk stretched wider—too wide. Almost amused.
"Just coffee," he replied, tone oily, dragging the last syllable like he was testing it. "Black."
Yuzuki gave a silent nod. His eyes never opened. He didn't want to see the look on the man's face. Not that disgusting grin. Not the way his gaze slithered across the room.
"Victor," Yuzuki called over his shoulder, calm but clipped. "One black coffee."
Victor didn't respond at first. He was standing behind the counter, still, silent—his hand already reaching for the pot, movements slow and mechanical. His eyes, however, hadn't moved.
They were locked onto the customer.
Unblinking.
Predatory.
He didn't look away as he poured the coffee. Not once.
A heartbeat later, Yuzuki returned with the cup balanced carefully on a tray. As he approached the man's table, he bent forward slightly—just enough to place the cup on the opposite side of the table from the man, his head turning just enough to avoid direct eye contact.
"Here you go," he said quietly, tone professional, respectful.
It was subtle at first—a shift in weight, a glint in the eye. But Yuzuki felt it.
That creeping, crawling sensation of something profoundly wrong.
The hand was already halfway there.
Inch by inch, moving toward his—
Yuzuki didn't even look back at first. Just sighed.
"Sir," he said, tone utterly deadpan. "I'm a man."
"Heh," the man replied, his smile stretching too far across his face. "Even better."
"Oh HELL Nah!"
The shriek rang through the café like a battle cry from the heavens. Customers jerked in their seats. Teacups clinked.
Someone dropped a spoon.
Kiana's head snapped toward them so fast it was a miracle her neck didn't break. Her tray clattered to the floor as her pupils shrank to pinpricks.
"No one touches Yuzu's butt except me!" she screamed, already sprinting full-tilt across the café. "That ass is MINE!"
The man had just enough time to blink before a fist collided with his face like divine punishment.
A shriek followed. His chair toppled backward. Kiana leapt onto the table, baseball bat (where had it even come from?!) gripped in both hands like the grim reaper holding his scythe.
"GET BACK HERE YOU PERVERTED CHINCHILLA—!"
The man scrambled—literally scrambled—to his feet, nearly tripping over his own chair as Kiana vaulted over a booth, bat raised overhead like Thor channeling caffeine and vengeance.
Out the front doors they went. The man sprinting like his life depended on it.
"I WILL END YOUR BLOODLINE!"
Kiana screamed, "YOU HEAR ME? I'M GONNA SMASH YOUR BA-"
The café went quiet. Everyone stared at the door.
A beat passed.
Victor and Yuzuki stood side by side just outside the entrance, both watching the chaotic scene unfold down the road. Screams echoed. Bystanders scattered. A pigeon fled.
Victor raised a hand halfway, looking thoughtful. "Can I—"
"No," Yuzuki cut in immediately. "Just… just no."