Chapter 1

Birdsong drifts through the air.

Trees burn in shades of amber and gold.

The wind rises, lifting fallen leaves into a quiet dance across the ground.

The sharp sound of chopping—

then the soft chime of a doorbell as it opens.

A beautiful young woman steps inside, her eyes wandering as though searching for something lost among the shelves. Her first steps echo gently across the floor.

“Good morning, miss. How may I help you?”

She smiles, as if she has finally found what she came for.

“A little of the meat over there, please.”

“It will be ready in a few minutes.”

She stands before him, studying the shape of his figure, as though savoring every second of her presence in that place. A glance at his black strands of hair. Another at the strength in his arms. And another at his crimson eyes.

Her gaze lingers too long—long enough for him to notice.

“Is there anything else you’d like to add to your order?”

She is lost in thought.

“Miss?”

“Oh—sorry… what?”

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

She shakes her head no, her cheeks flushed with color.

He returns to preparing her order.

And she, once again, returns to her quiet staring.

Minutes slip by. The order is ready—

yet the girl remains adrift in her thoughts.

“Miss, your order is ready.”

“Oh my God—”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I—I’m sorry. Thank you… for your service.”

She takes the package and rushes out in haste, the bell chiming wildly behind her. In her distraction, she leaves without paying.

And yet—

the man shows no reaction.

No call after her.

No step toward the door.

Because he already knows.

She will return again—

at the same hour,

as she always does.

A faint, knowing smirk curves upon his lips.

She walks quickly, her steps uneven, one hand covering her burning face.

“Did I say that out loud? Did he hear me? I’m such an idiot… I’m never going back to that shop again.”

Her heart pounds louder than her footsteps. In her flustered escape, she barely notices how far she has already gone.

“Oh—the house…aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa how embarrassing”

Without slowing down, she rushes past the doorstep, nearly stumbling over the step in her haste, as though outrunning the memory itself.

She reaches her door, fumbles with the handle, and slips inside in one hurried breath.

The door shuts behind her.

Her shoes are kicked off carelessly, abandoned without order.

Step—

step—

“Where am I supposed to hide my face now…?”

Her eyes drift across the room.

A small white kitchen washed in soft, dim light.

Across from it, a comfortable checkered sofa, draped with a feathery throw.

Beside it stands a tall floor lamp shaped like a flower, casting a gentle glow.

A small wooden table rests upon a delicately patterned rug—its design soothing to the eye.

Everything in quiet harmony.

Soft colors woven together in a way that mirrors her own delicate nature—calm, warm, inviting.

She drops the package of meat onto the table, still lost in thought.

“I’ll watch a movie… I have to forget.”

To some, it would seem like nothing—

a fleeting, insignificant moment.

But to her…

it was something far more.

The sound of tea being poured—

a gentle stream against porcelain.

“Wait……Damn it What did I do?”

Silence thickens around her.

Her fingers freeze mid-air.

Her thoughts rewind.

“Didn’t I… pay for the order?”

A heartbeat.

Then—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Her voice pierces the quiet apartment, echoing off the soft white walls, shattering the fragile calm she had tried so desperately to build.

“How am I supposed to go back and pay for it?!”

How foolish she must have looked.

The fragile peace she had tried to rebuild after leaving—after convincing herself it was over, that she could simply forget—crumbled in an instant. The memory forced its way back in, louder, sharper, more merciless than before.

Her cheeks burned even hotter than they had in the shop.

The imagined scene replayed in her mind—

him noticing,

him realizing,

him thinking she had run away on purpose

“…”

No sound leaves her lips now.

Only the quiet humiliation wrapping around her thoughts, tightening with every second.

“He’ll think I’m nothing but a thief… I have to be brave. Tomorrow—no… maybe this evening.”

A moment of thought.

“If I’ve already embarrassed myself this much… why not take one step forward instead of hiding?”

Her breathing slows.

Her gaze drifts to the corner of the room—

to the small cage resting quietly there.

Inside, her little bird sleeps peacefully, feathers rising and falling with each fragile breath, unaware of the storms raging in her heart.

She stares at it for a long moment.

So small.

So unafraid.

So still.

And somehow… braver than her.

“If I do nothing… I’ll become like that bird trapped behind bars.”

She lets out a quiet breath.

“I wish I were a stone instead.”

Suddenly, she rises.

Her steps carry her toward the mirror.

She stops in front of it, studying her reflection—the flushed cheeks, the restless eyes, the stubborn spark hiding beneath the embarrassment.

“I’ll shine,” she whispers to herself.

“I’ll walk in there with confidence. And if it fails… I just won’t show my face again.”

A dramatic pause.

“…Or I’ll change cities entirely.”

She straightens her posture, lifting her chin slightly.

The fear is still there.

The humiliation too.

But now—

so is a fragile, trembling determination.

After a full hour of preparation—shower, hurried makeup, and dressing with frantic care—she stands at the door, hand on the handle, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“You can do this,” she whispers, trying to convince herself.

“You’re human. Nothing will happen if you open your mouth… if you let out what’s been tangled inside you.”

Her fingers curl around the doorknob.

She pushes it open slowly.

Sunlight spills into the room, and the wind plays through her hair.

For a fleeting moment, a gentle calm settles over her.

Then she steps outside.

Her pace quickens.

Her heart pounds, each step fueled by determination.

She is resolved—not to flee from what she feels, not to let it linger unspoken.

Today, she will end this internal struggle.

Whether with rejection… or with acceptance.

The girl arrives at the shop and freezes at the doorway.

“Should I go in… or not? Go in… or not? Go in… or not?”

A minute… two minutes pass like this, her face burning red.

She doesn’t realize that the one-way glass that hides the shop’s interior actually lets the owner see the outside perfectly—he can see her, frozen in place, her hesitation plain as day. Or, rather… he already has.

The soft sound of footsteps breaks the tension.

The door opens.

“Are you alright, miss?”

The source of her anxiety stands before her.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa he looks unreeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaallllll" she thinks.

“Miss?”

“…Sorry… this morning…”

She falters, words barely escaping.

“I took the order… and didn’t pay. Please accept my apology.”

He smiles knowingly.

“I remember—you rushed out clutching the bag! Hahaha. Come in, please.”

They step inside together.