Noon.
"Does our boss stay here all morning every day?"
Watching Su Che leave, Natasha Romanoff—now dressed in a café uniform—casually asked Selena as if making small talk.
"Definitely. It's his personal routine," Selena replied with a smile, eager to impress as she aimed for the manager position at Peach Blossom Grove Café.
"Every morning, our boss sits by the second window row—the spot with the best sunlight. He always drinks a cup of hand-brewed black coffee, no sugar."
"Black coffee? No sugar?" Natasha feigned surprise. "That bitter, slightly sour taste… and he actually likes it?"
"Who knows?" Selena shrugged, tidying the morning receipts neatly.
"Usually, the boss stays all morning. Sometimes he has lunch here too—he likes fried chicken, and his favorite fruit is watermelon."
"Also, even though he's only nineteen, he's single. So if you're interested, better make a move soon." She leaned in slightly. "You're not the only one asking about him, you know. Plenty of girls are trying to catch his eye."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "So our boss is quite popular?"
"Absolutely! Young, rich, handsome—with refined manners and a mysterious, melancholic vibe from time to time." Selena sighed dramatically. "God, what girl could resist that? Who wouldn't want to win over such an enigmatic prince from the East?"
"Plus, opening a café this size in Manhattan—where every square inch costs a fortune? And he's so sincere and generous. Snagging him would mean skipping ten years of struggle!"
Listening to Selena's glowing praise, Natasha picked up a coffee and smiled. "What about you, Selena? Don't you want to date him?"
"Me?" Selena laughed openly. "If the boss wanted to go out with me, he'd just have to crook his finger. I wouldn't say no—I'd even wash up and deliver myself to his bedroom."
"You know, lots of girls—even some who come here just in the mornings—are here for him. We're not sixteen or seventeen anymore; we know how the real world works."
She paused, then added more seriously, "But honestly, I'd rather focus on becoming the manager here. The weekly pay would go up to $500, plus commissions. That way, I could give my family a better life—at least afford my sister's college tuition next year."
Selena wasn't sure why she was sharing all this with Natasha, who'd only just started that morning. But there was something about Natasha—a few years older, calm, and capable—that felt trustworthy and different from the other staff. Growing up in a single-parent household, Selena felt drawn to Natasha's unspoken strength—almost a "big sister" vibe, though they'd only just met.
After chatting a while longer, Natasha politely declined Selena's lunch invitation, saying she needed to "go home and make lunch for her brother."
Selena found that perfectly understandable—after all, she herself was working to support her sister's education. Natasha is just like me, she thought warmly. I'll cover for her if she's ever late.
Around the corner, inside a parked car.
Natasha opened her lunchbox and eyed the sandwiches she'd packed that morning. After a moment's hesitation, she took a bite and called Nick Fury.
She'd made contact with Su Che, the diary's owner, and formed some initial impressions. But certain details—like his love of fried chicken and watermelon—felt unnecessary to report.
No need to mention that, she decided. If I add cotton fields to the list, it'd complete the three stereotypes, wouldn't it?
Even if Fury was the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., some things were better left private.
Who knows?