Do you know me?

The sun had begun its lazy descent, painting the city in hues of gold and soft pink. Ethan trudged down the bustling sidewalk, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

The air was crisp, a faint bite of winter lingering even though spring was just around the corner. His footsteps reverberated faintly against the concrete, blending into the whole chatter, honking horns, and the occasional bark of a dog.

It wasn't like he had much of a plan. Leaving Dima Studio felt less like a choice and more like an escape. A studio that big wasn't a place for someone like him.

Not yet, at least. His questionnaire there had been short and mostly focused on the main character just like the system had said, and though he told himself it was fine, he really couldn't help the sliver of jealousy that grew in his stomach.

Being the main character in a movie is a short term goal, he thought.

He glanced down at the slip of paper in his hand. The coffee shop wasn't far now, just a few blocks ahead. It wasn't glamorous, but it was something. A temporary job, a means to keep himself afloat until he figured out his next move.

The bell above the door jingled softly as Ethan pushed it open, stepping into the warmth of the café.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods greeted him, a comforting contrast to the cold outside. The place was cozy, with dark wooden furniture and soft lighting that gave it an inviting charm.

He approached the counter hesitantly, scanning the room for any sign of the manager. A barista behind the counter, a young woman with bright green hair and a cheerful smile, glanced up. "Hey there! Looking for something?"

"Uh, yeah," Ethan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm here for the job interview? The manager told me to stop by today."

Riley had got him this interview to keep the light on until A Love Remembered Paycheck Came. And no one more than Ethan meant that phrase more figuratively.

"Oh, right!" The barista nodded enthusiastically. "He's in the back. Might take a few minutes, though. You can grab a seat while you wait."

Ethan murmured a quiet thanks and took a seat at the counter.

The place wasn't too crowded—just a few customers scattered across the tables, sipping their drinks or tapping away on laptops.

He drummed his fingers against the counter, trying to ignore the nervous energy buzzing in his chest.

A faint movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. A woman had taken the seat next to him, her presence almost too quiet to notice at first.

She was wrapped in a soft beige scarf that draped elegantly around her shoulders, and a pair of oversized glasses rested on her nose, hiding most of her features.

"Black coffee," she said to the barista, her voice low and smooth.

Ethan glanced at her briefly, then looked away, not wanting to seem rude. But he couldn't help noticing the way she carried herself—calm, deliberate, like she had all the time in the world.

She didn't touch her coffee when it arrived. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter and propping her chin on her palms. Her head tilted slightly, and then her gaze shifted—straight at Ethan.

He stiffened, the weight of her stare impossible to ignore.

"You look like someone I know," she said suddenly, her words cutting through the quiet.

Ethan blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… I don't think we've met."

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Ethan replied, his tone uncertain.

The woman studied him for a moment, her eyes partially obscured by the glare of the café lights on her glasses. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she reached up and removed them.

Ethan's breath hitched.

Her eyelashes were stark white, a striking difference to her pale complexion. And her eyes… they were an almost unnatural shade, a soft golden hue that seemed to catch the light and reflect it back. For a moment, he couldn't look away, caught in the intensity of her gaze.

Is she wearing contacts?

"Still don't recognize me?" she asked, her tone light but carrying an edge of something unreadable.

Ethan shook his head, his voice caught somewhere in his throat. "No, I… I don't think so."

"Shame."

The woman leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable. She picked up her coffee, took a small sip, and then set it back down. Without another word, she stood, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck.

"I see," she murmured, almost to herself.

Ethan watched as she walked to the door, her movements fluid and unhurried. Outside, a sleek black car was waiting, its polished exterior gleaming under the streetlights.

The driver stepped out, a tall man dressed in a tailored suit, and opened the door for her. Before she got in, she turned her head slightly, glancing back at Ethan through the glass.

"I didn't sense its presence," she said quietly to the man, her voice barely audible.

The man's expression darkened. "Then it's hiding well. Or it's weaker than we thought."

The woman didn't respond, sliding into the car with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly. The door shut behind her, and the car pulled away, disappearing into the stream of traffic.

Ethan sat frozen, his mind racing.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered to himself.

[Not sure, but that was… unusual.]

"Unusual? That's all you've got?" Ethan hissed under his breath.

[Look, I'm just as confused as you are. She didn't seem like your average café customer, though, did she?]

Ethan shook his head, running a hand through his hair. No, she definitely hadn't. There was something about her—something that set his nerves on edge, though he couldn't quite explain why.

The manager finally emerged from the back, a middle-aged man with a friendly smile and a clipboard in hand. "Ethan, right? Sorry for the wait. Let's head to the office and chat."

Ethan forced a smile, pushing the strange encounter to the back of his mind for now. "Sure, no problem."