Chapter 1 – The Café Where the Prince Died

The bell above the door chimed at exactly 7:43 AM.
I didn't need to look up from wiping down the counter to know who it was. The rhythm of her footsteps—sharp, deliberate, like she was marching into battle—told me everything.
"You're late," I said, not bothering to hide the smirk.
"*Late?*" Rin's voice cut through the morning air like a blade. "The café opened at seven-thirty. I'm thirteen minutes into business hours. That's called 'being a customer,' not late."
I glanced up. She was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, her knight's uniform somehow still immaculate despite the fact that she'd probably already been up for three hours doing drills or whatever insane training regimen she inflicted on herself these days.
Her silver hair was tied back in that same high ponytail. Her amber eyes were already narrowed at me.
Same Rin. Always ready to argue.
"Your *usual* time is 7:40," I said, placing a cup on the counter. "You're late by your own standards."
"That's not—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes locking onto the cup. "...Did you already make my coffee?"
"Of course. You're predictable."
"I'm *consistent.*"
"That's what predictable people say."
She crossed the café in four strides and snatched the cup off the counter like I might take it back. I watched her take the first sip—black, two sugars, hint of cinnamon—and waited.
Three seconds.
Her expression shifted. Eyebrows up. A slight pause.
"...It's perfect."
"I know."
"Don't get smug."
"Too late."
Rin set the cup down with a little more force than necessary and glared at me. "One day, I'm going to find something wrong with your coffee. And on that day, you're going to regret every smug word."
"I look forward to it, S-Rank Customer."
She flinched. "Stop calling me that."
"It's literally on the board." I gestured to the wooden ranking plaque behind me, where her name sat in proud, hand-carved letters at the top of the S-Rank tier.
"I didn't *ask* for special treatment."
"You earned it by showing up every single day and complaining more than anyone else in the capital."
"I don't complain—I provide *feedback.*"
"Sure."
She opened her mouth to argue further, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, she took another sip and let out a long breath, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
The café fell into its usual morning rhythm. Quiet. Warm. The kind of peace you don't get anywhere else in this city.
I went back to wiping the counter.
Rin sat down at her usual spot—the corner table by the window, where she could see the street and keep her back to the wall. Old habits. War habits.
I knew them well.
Too well.
---
"Ren."
I glanced over. She was staring at me, cup halfway to her lips.
"What?"
"Where did you learn to make coffee like this?"
Here we go.
"Practice," I said evenly.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Her eyes narrowed again. She leaned forward slightly, like she was trying to read something in my face. "You're too good at this. Your technique, your precision—it's not normal for some random café owner."
"Maybe I'm just talented."
"Or maybe you're hiding something."
I met her gaze without flinching. "Everyone's hiding something, Rin. That's how people survive."
For a moment, she didn't say anything. Just stared at me with that sharp, calculating look she used to give enemy commanders across the battlefield.
Then she sat back and took another sip.
"Fine. Keep your secrets, barista. But I'll figure you out eventually."
"Good luck."
She smirked. "I don't need luck. I'm S-Rank."
I almost laughed.
*If only you knew.*
---
The rest of the morning passed without incident. A few D-Rank regulars wandered in—merchants, guild clerks, the usual crowd. I served them their orders, made small talk, kept the atmosphere light.
This was my life now.
No crown. No strategy meetings. No battlefields.
Just coffee, quiet mornings, and the occasional argument with the one person who could still get under my skin.
It was perfect.
Or at least, it *was* perfect.
Until the bell chimed again at 9:15 AM, and *they* walked in.
Two men in plain clothes. Unremarkable faces. But their posture, the way their eyes scanned the room, the slight bulge under their cloaks—
Spies.
Royal spies.
I kept my expression neutral and greeted them with the same polite smile I gave everyone else.
"Welcome to Royal Roast. What can I get you?"
The taller one stepped forward. "Just coffee. Black."
"Same," said the other.
"Coming right up."
I turned toward the counter, my mind already racing.
*They're watching the café. Probably have been for a while.*
*Looking for the prince.*
*Looking for me.*
I started preparing their drinks, hands steady, movements casual. Just another barista doing his job.
Behind me, I heard Rin's chair scrape against the floor.
"Ren."
Her voice was low. Dangerous.
I glanced over my shoulder. She was staring at the two men, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.
"Rin," I said calmly. "They're customers."
"They're *not.*"
"They ordered coffee. That makes them customers."
"They're—"
"S-Rank privileges don't include starting fights in my café."
Her jaw tightened. But she didn't draw her blade.
Good.
I finished the two cups and brought them over, setting them down in front of the spies with a pleasant smile.
"Enjoy."
The tall one didn't even look at the coffee. He looked at me.
"Tell me," he said slowly. "Have you heard any rumors lately? About the late crown prince?"
My smile didn't waver.
"Only that he's dead," I said. "Tragic, really. I heard he was a brilliant tactician."
"Indeed." The man's eyes lingered on my face a moment longer. "Some believe he may have survived."
"People believe all sorts of things."
"And you?"
I shrugged. "I'm a barista. I believe in good coffee and paying customers."
Silence.
Then the man smiled—thin, humorless—and picked up his cup.
"Fair enough."
They drank in silence. Paid. Left.
The moment the door closed, Rin was on her feet.
"What the hell was that?"
"That," I said, returning to the counter, "was a waste of two perfectly good cups of coffee."
"Ren. Those were royal intelligence officers."
"I know."
"And you just—*served them?*"
"What else was I supposed to do? Throw them out? That would've been suspicious."
She stared at me, incredulous. "You're *impossible.*"
"And yet, you keep coming back."
"Because someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed."
I paused.
Looked at her.
Really looked at her.
She was serious. Completely serious.
Still trying to protect people. Still carrying the weight of the war.
*Still looking for the prince.*
I turned away before she could see my expression.
"Your coffee's getting cold, Rin."
She didn't move for a long moment.
Then, finally, she sat back down.
"One of these days," she muttered, "you're going to tell me the truth."
I didn't answer.
Because she was right.
One day, I would.
Just not today.