The lift shuddered to a stop, a faint thunk echoing through the small chamber.
Ash dragged the iron gate open, the sound of metal scraping against metal broke the still silence of morning. He stepped out, boots landing on smooth stone, and shut the bars behind him with a final clank that faded into the dim, echoing hallway.
The ground floor smelled mildly of polished wood and tea leaves, the kind of scent that belonged to old haunted houses with too much history in their walls but with refreshing fragrance. A wide double door stood at the end of the hallway, sunlight pressing faintly through its frosted glass panes.
To his right, behind a polished counter, sat a woman in her mid-thirties, hair tied back in a bun, spectacles balanced at the bridge of her nose, and a ledger spread open before her. Ada Nett. She was a landlady, self-proclaimed guardian of the tenants, and absolute miser when it came to rent delays. She was kind in words but greedy in action. She looked up from her ledger the instant she saw him and waved lazily. "Hey, Ash! Open the shop already, I barely slept last night!" Her tone carried mock annoyance but her eyes were sharp and measuring.
Ash forced a polite smile. "Yeah, on the way."
"Good, good!" she muttered, already scribbling something on the ledger again, perhaps his name and the rent due beside it.
Ash didn't linger. He started walking toward the door, hand brushing the smooth wood of the wall as he passed. The world outside was waking slowly. The faint murmur of voices, the creak of carts, the cry of a distant seller blending with the hush of early morning air. Four streets crossed just beyond the building, their cobblestone paths glistening subtly with leftover fog. Wooden stalls were lined along the borders, filled with fruits and vegetables in tidy pyramids. Sellers were still arranging their goods, wiping apples, stacking carrots, muttering about the weather and no one selling yet; it was too early for customers and too quiet for commerce.
Ash stepped down from the threshold, boots tapping against the damp stone. His eyes wandered, not just looking, but studying. A man in a brown coat guided a horse down the street, the animal's breath steaming in the chill air. A wooden cart followed, its wheels rattling softly. Inside sat a young woman, her golden hair gleaming faintly under the morning light, a contrast to the dark, woolen cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The rider wore a wide-brimmed hat, the kind favored by traders from the western provinces.
Ash's lips curled slightly. "This feels kinda refreshing," he thought, the air cold against his skin but alive with motion.
Then his gaze shifted toward a few buildings down, across the street. 'Elliott's Brew & Beans.'
A modest place by the looks of it, with wide glass windows framed in dark wood. In front of the shop door stood a girl, perhaps in her early twenties. Her attire was proper: a high-necked wool dress, dark and practical, covered by a full white apron tied neatly at the back. Her short hair barely reached her ears, slightly curled at the tips, and a single golden earring shimmered in her right ear when the light caught it.
She stood there with calm efficiency, keys jingling faintly as she unlocked the door. The faint click of the lock reached Ash even from a distance. Aardh's voice hummed softly in his mind. "Seems like your first worker's already awake."
Her name was Rose Rivers. And she was a girlfriend of Ash Elliott. Yes, the beautiful girl with pale skin, beautiful face, mid-length hair and glossy lips was Ash Elliott's girlfriend. Actually, she was from very rich family but she decided to work under Ash Elliott in the name of 'independent girl' in front of her parents but in real she just wanted to meet Ash Elliott daily.
Ash's eyes lingered for a heartbeat longer then he started walking toward the shop.
The wooden door gave a faint chime as Ash stepped into the coffee shop, the familiar scent of roasted beans, oak polish, and faint candle wax mingling in the cool morning air. The floorboards creaked softly under his boots.
Rose was already there, her short hair tucked neatly behind her ear as she bent to straighten a chair. A neat rhythm followed her movements.
Lift. Align. Adjust.
The act looked like someone who had done this every morning for years.
When she looked up, her smile was bright, natural. "Oh, you're here."
Ash blinked once, then managed a faint smile in return. "Yeah... yeah."
He looked around, letting his gaze trail over the small, warm, perfectly ordered room. Wooden tables, iron stands, glass jars on the shelves behind the counter. The windows were veiled with heavy curtains that trapped the mild night chill, so he walked over and began pulling them open one by one. Sunlight seeped through, turning the air gold.
Behind him, Rose's voice floated softly, "By the way, I'm thinking to tell my parents about us. They already know about you quite a bit. I guess they'll agree now."
Ash's hand froze mid-motion, his fingers brushing the edge of the curtain. For a second, he didn't move, didn't breathe.
"us?"
Aardh's amused tone came lazily through his head. "Oh damn... she's your girlfriend.",
Ash maintained his expression instantly, forcing his shoulders to relax. "Wouldn't it be a bit early?" he said casually, trying to sound indifferent, hoping she'd drop it.
But Rose only gave a small sigh, continuing to straighten a table. "I know uncle passed away just some months ago, but... for how long will we stay like this?" Her tone wasn't pleading but gentle, familiar, like she'd rehearsed the thought many times before.
Ash paused, the last bit of sunlight brushing across his face. "So the real Ash even had someone who loved him." He didn't know whether to pity the man or envy him.
Finally, he exhaled and said softly, "Ermm... okay."
Rose smiled, bright enough to make the quiet shop feel alive. She nodded once, satisfied, and then turned toward the counter. "Good. Then help me with the items," she said cheerfully, reaching beneath the counter to grab a ring of small keys.
Ash finished lifting the last curtain, dusted his hands on his coat, and followed her. She crossed to a narrow side door near the storage shelves and slipped one of the keys into the lock. It turned with a dry click.
Without looking back, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Ash followed her in, the faint aroma of coffee beans growing stronger. The door shut softly behind them.
Ash and Rose stepped out from the storage room, the whiff scent of raw beans and polished brass still clinging to their hands. Ash was carrying a siphon brewer, its glass bulb reflecting the morning light like captured fire while Rose balanced a small sack of coffee beans and a paper packet of sugar cubes. He placed the brewer carefully on the counter, its base making a soft wooden thud, and Rose arranged the beans beside it, neat and efficient.
The door chimed.
Their first customer of the day entered. An old man, perhaps in his late sixties, draped in a crisp white coat that fell just past his knees, a black waistcoat underneath, black trousers pressed with care. His boots gleamed, black and spotless, as if the streets outside had never touched them. Round spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, and he leaned gently on a polished cane, every step measured and deliberate.
"Good morning, Ray. Rose," he said with a genial smile, voice like mellow brass.
Rose turned carrying a genuine warmth in her tone. "Good morning, Grandpa Gen."
The old man's lips twitched into a crooked grin. "Stop calling me grandpa, girl. Women your age still die for me."
Rose laughed softly, shaking her head. "No doubt about that. Well, your ordinary chocolate coffee, right?"
Gen nodded, taking his usual seat by the window, the one where the sunlight brushed the table edge. "Yep, the same."
Actually, Grandpa Gen was a neighbour of Ash Elliott and, he was the head librarian of of 'The Selwyn Library.' Shocking, right? Even in this age, his eyes and mind was sharp.
She began to prepare his order, her movements light, practiced, almost musical.
Ash stayed behind the counter, watching quietly.
Gen looked at him, a faint curiosity in his eyes. "By the way, you got up early today? It's still cold outside, you should care about yourself," Rose said gently as she poured water into the siphon.
Gen chuckled. "Today's morning felt too fresh to ignore. And besides, Ash didn't come to say hello to me. I was shocked. He never misses a day."
Ash blinked once, his face remaining neutral, but his mind scrambled for something that fit the version of Ash Elliott this man knew. He forced a small smile. "The laundry man tangled me with him," he said lightly. "I nearly forgot about it."
Gen laughed, a sound like dry leaves rustling. "Ah, Ren. He's such a nice man."
Ash nodded, his smile staying polite but hollow.
Then...
Bang.
A sharp sound made a tunnel in the air outside.
Rose froze mid-stir, the old man turned his head toward the window, and Ash's hand, resting near the counter, instinctively tensed.
It was a sound of bullet escaping from a gun.