Aoi set the coffee grinder on the counter, her trembling fingers smoothing her apron.
The café's silence felt almost deceptive, as if the earlier chaos had been a dream. But the faint damp stains on the floor and the torn mouth of a coffee sack grounded her in reality.
Yosuke, tidying the kitchen shelves, glanced at Aoi with concern. The clock showed three in the morning, and through the Moonlight Café's glass windows, the campus's outlines emerged as the fog thinned.
"That guy was weird, huh? Like he knew something," Yosuke said, tying up a sack.
Aoi nodded, her eyes fixed on the grinder. Its weathered iron surface, etched with scratches and rust, seemed to hold decades of secrets. She brushed the handle lightly, but it stayed still, silent.
"Boss, how long has this grinder been here?"
Yosuke paused, frowning. "It was here when I started, ten years ago. The old owner left it behind. We never use it, but tossing it always felt… wrong."
Aoi peered at the grinder's base. Faintly engraved was the year "1919." The date, far older than the café itself, sent a chill through her. Yosuke leaned in, spotting the engraving, and whistled softly.
"That's beyond antique."
As he set the grinder down, a coffee bean jar on the counter tipped over with a sharp clatter. Aoi and Yosuke jumped, staring at it. The jar hadn't fallen, just tilted, its lid popping off, spilling beans across the counter. But something else was mixed in—black, thread-like tendrils, writhing slowly. Aoi's breath caught. Yosuke grabbed the broom.
"Not again. What is this?"
As he approached, the threads surged, crawling over the jar's rim and spreading across the counter. They weren't insects or liquid but something uncanny, like shadows moving with intent.
Aoi stumbled back, her hand brushing the espresso machine's switch. It hissed, spitting hot steam and water onto the counter. The shadow-threads recoiled at the heat, retreating into the jar.
"Hot water works," Yosuke muttered, cranking the machine to release more steam. The threads vanished into the jar, and Aoi slammed the lid shut. Both of them stood panting, exchanging a look. Yosuke gripped the broom tightly.
"This place is messed up. Never seen anything like this."
Aoi nodded, clutching the jar, her gaze drifting to the grinder. The man's words echoed in her mind: This place is special. Their meaning was starting to take shape. She set the jar on the shelf and gripped the grinder's handle firmly.
"Boss, what if we destroy it?"
Yosuke's eyes widened, but he nodded. "Yeah. This thing feels… wrong."
He fetched a hammer from the kitchen. Aoi placed the grinder on the floor, and Yosuke raised the hammer. But just as he swung, the café's lights flickered, and a low growl rumbled from beyond the windows. The glass vibrated, and the fog outside thickened, swirling wildly.
Yosuke lowered the hammer, staring outside. "What was that?"
Aoi's eyes locked on the window. In the fog, a faint figure took shape—not the man from before, but smaller, childlike. It drifted closer, pressing a thin hand against the glass. The handprint it left was unnaturally long, with six fingers. Aoi stifled a scream, grabbing Yosuke's arm.
"Boss, did you see that?"
He nodded, tightening his grip on the hammer. The handprint lingered as the figure dissolved into the fog. The air grew heavy again, and a faint vibration pulsed from the grinder. Aoi steeled herself and turned to Yosuke.
"We have to do it now. It's our only chance."
Yosuke hesitated, but the resolve in her eyes spurred him. He nodded sharply, raised the hammer, and brought it down.
A dull thud echoed as the grinder cracked.
But from the fracture, a plume of black smoke erupted, billowing through the café. Aoi and Yosuke coughed, watching as the smoke coiled toward the ceiling.
It began to shift, forming the faint outline of a face.