Ring!
My phone alarm screamed from atop the nightstand, bouncing around as its own vibration made it skitter. I stretched, one hand reaching for it without opening my eyes.
Thud.
The phone hit the wooden floor, its screen still brightly lit, displaying 6:47 a.m.
“Oh my God—”
I sat straight up, my messy hair covering half my face. It took my brain three seconds to process everything: class at eight, but my shift at Sawiji Coffee started at seven. Twenty minutes left. Why was I always like this whenever I stayed up late?
I jumped out of bed and grabbed the oversized shirt hanging on the closet door while one foot was already halfway into my culottes. The apartment was small, but at this hour, it felt like a miniature war zone. My college assignments were still scattered across my desk from staying up late the night before, and my to-do journal lay open with FINISH CHAPTER 3!! underlined three times—as if it were mocking me for not meeting my own target. I snatched up the journal, shoved it haphazardly into my crossbody bag along with two other thick books, and ran for the door.
Please, don’t let there be traffic today.
Ding.
I pressed the elevator button over and over. Nothing happened. The small screen above the elevator doors displayed red text: OUT OF ORDER — UNDER REPAIR.
“Come on, seriously?”
I let out a long sigh, feeling like I wanted to complain to anyone who could be blamed for this morning. But there was no time for that. My room was on the eighteenth floor. Eighteen floors, with less than fifteen minutes left. My only choice was the fire stairs.
I ran.
Every step seemed to mock my own speed. I was already gasping for breath by the twelfth floor, but I didn’t stop—I couldn’t stop, because Ms. Wening had warned me twice this week about clocking in on time, and I absolutely didn’t want to become the student who was “always late” in her eyes. My crossbody bag slammed against my hip every time I took two steps at once, and the sound of my footsteps echoed through the empty stairwell.
Sixth floor. Fifth floor. Fourth floor—
Crash!
I slammed into something hard that didn’t move. My body bounced half a step backward, and in a split second, I realized it wasn’t a wall.
It was a person—and that person had come from the opposite direction, climbing the same stairs while I raced downward as fast as I could.
The books in my hands went flying, landing one after another with heavy thuds on the steps. I nearly lost my balance too, if I hadn’t managed to grab the railing in time.
I’m screwed. I’m so screwed.
“Ah—sorry! I’m so sorry!”
I hurriedly crouched down and gathered my scattered books. The person I’d run into crouched down too, picking up one or two books that had fallen closest to him before handing them back to me without saying much.
I looked up to apologize more clearly, silently hoping he wouldn’t start yelling at me this early in the morning.
The person standing in front of me was a man, maybe a few years older than me. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a plain dark T-shirt with a camera hanging around his neck. His expression was blank—not angry, not annoyed, just… empty. As if the collision we’d just had was no more important than dust on the floor.
How could he be that calm after getting slammed into?
“Are you okay?” I asked, still panting as I straightened the books in my hands.
The man didn’t answer right away. His eyes paused briefly on one of my books—just a fraction of a second, but long enough to feel strange—before he finally looked up at me.
“I’m fine,” he answered shortly, his voice flat and emotionless.
“Oh—thank goodness. Sorry again. I was in such a hurry.”
He only nodded once—so slightly that I almost missed it—then walked past me and continued up the stairs at an easy pace, as if nothing had happened five seconds ago. He didn’t look back. He didn’t say anything else.
I stood there frozen for a moment, watching his back recede up the stairs until he turned at the landing and disappeared from view.
“…Okay,” I muttered softly, not sure who I was talking to. “You’re welcome too, I guess.”
What kind of person was he? Seriously, he was so weird—but I didn’t have time to think about it any further. My phone showed six minutes left. I hurriedly stuffed the remaining books into my bag, then started running down the rest of the stairs as fast as I could.
Sawiji Coffee was still quiet when I pushed open the glass door, breathing hard, my hair even messier than before and my shirt slightly crooked from throwing it on in a hurry.
Jingle.
The little bell above the door rang, announcing my arrival.
“Nara?” A middle-aged woman behind the register looked up, her eyebrows rising at my appearance, which was far from presentable. “What happened to you? Did you just run a marathon?”
“The elevator was broken, Ms. Wening,” I replied, still panting as I hurriedly tied my hair back with a claw clip I pulled from my bag. “I had to take the stairs from the eighteenth floor.”
“How did that happen? The fire stairs are so long.”
“Exactly why I ran, Ms. Wening. If I’d taken my time, I would’ve been an hour late.”
Ms. Wening chuckled and shook her head. “At least you’re not actually late. Careful, I’ve already reminded you twice this week about your start time.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, Ms. Wening. That’s why I tried not to be late, even if the method was a little extreme.” I grinned, still out of breath.
“All right, go catch your breath. There aren’t any customers yet.” Ms. Wening jerked her chin toward the back of the counter. “Your apron’s back there.”
“Got it. Thanks, Ms. Wening.”
I stepped behind the counter and took a long breath as I grabbed the apron from its hook. My hands were still trembling a little from the run—or maybe not just from that. Something about the collision kept replaying in my head, even though I couldn’t explain why.
That blank face. Not a word. Like nothing could ever surprise him.
I gave my head a small shake, trying to chase the thought away—It wasn’t even seven in the morning, and I was already thinking about some stranger on the stairs. What was wrong with me?—then tied the apron strings behind my back and began setting up my workstation for the morning shift.