Chapter 1
The low hum of chatter blends with the sharp hiss of the espresso machine. A swarm of customers crowds the counter, their faces blurred by steam and exhaustion. I stand behind it, hands stiff on the till, staring into nothing.
I have murder in my mind.
Either myself… or my manager.
I begged him for a day off—just one day—but that bald bastard didn’t even look at me before saying no. And now here I am, on a Monday, pretending to care about orders while serving lattes to people who hate their lives almost as much as I hate mine.
I wanted today free so I could look for another job in the city—something, anything that would pay me enough to breathe. The money I make here barely keeps me alive.
A month ago, I actually tried to end it. I stood at the edge of a high-rise, the wind tearing at my clothes, my toes curling over the concrete. I thought it would be quick. Clean. But someone grabbed me. Pulled me back. Saved me.
And now I’m here again.
Alive. Against my own plans.
Pouring coffee.
Forgetting to breathe.
Trying...just trying...not to drown in the thought…
that maybe I should have jumped harder.
Now I’m trying to pour coffee beans into the grinder, preparing a new batch for the never‑ending line of customers, when I hear a strange GRR GRR sound from the machine.
Thirty seconds later, smoke floods the room. Women are screaming, men are shouting over them trying to calm things down, and kids—because kids are always strange are actually laughing and chasing the smoke like it’s some sort of game.
The machine just blew up.
Great. Just great. Now my manager will probably cut half my salary… but not fire me. No, never that. That would be too kind.
I rip off my apron, slam it onto the counter, and flip my middle finger at my manager before storming out of the shop. I don’t even look back. I just keep walking, my heart pounding, my head still filled with smoke literally and otherwise.
I’ve barely gone five hundred meters when I hear the roar of an engine.
A truck.
It’s coming at me fast, too fast, and I freeze like some cornered animal in the streetlights.
I close my eyes.
Finally…
But the impact never comes.
Instead, there’s a violent screech of tires, a metallic crash, and a sharp shattering of glass.
I open my eyes.
The truck has swerved off the road and slammed into a tree, smoke curling from its twisted hood.
And that’s when I feel it.
A presence behind me—heavy, cold, ancient.
I turn slowly.
Standing in the shadows of a flickering streetlamp is a figure taller than any man, horns curling back like blackened iron, eyes glowing a dull ember. His suit is sharp, almost human, but his expression is something else entirely… weary, almost disappointed.
He exhales smoke through gritted teeth.
“Why… why did I save you again?” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
His voice rumbles like distant thunder.
I take a step back, but I can’t look away.
“You were supposed to die there,” he says, eyes narrowing. “But no—I intervened. Again. Because of my own mistake … back in Hell.”
He runs a clawed hand through his hair, the ember glow in his eyes dimming with regret.
“You were never meant to live this long. And yet, here you are… ruining everything I’ve tried to fix.”
I stand frozen in the street, the wrecked truck smoking behind me, and all I can think is—
I was ready to die… but why does it feel like something far worse is only just beginning?
