The man didn't lift his head. He only smiled, a small curve that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hmm," he hummed, a low vibration from beneath the brim of his hat, and reached for the cup.
Ash stayed for a moment longer, then turned around and walked back toward the counter. His boots made a soft thud with every step, and behind him, the man lifted the cup with deliberate slowness. The smell of bitter coffee mingled with dust and old wood, filling the air like something heavy that refused to leave.
Everything went quiet again.
Gen finished his drink, the last drop making a hollow clink at the bottom of the cup. He stood, stretching his back slightly, then walked toward the counter. Rose greeted him with a warm smile. "How was it?" she asked. Gen chuckled softly, slipping a wrinkled hand into his coat pocket. "Fabulous, as always," he said, placing a single bronze velm on the counter with the soft ring of metal against wood. "Well, I'm going. See ya later."
"Have a good day," Rose said in bright and practiced tone.
Ash forced a polite nod, trying to fit in. "Have a good day."
The old man smiled, adjusting his round spectacles. "My days are already great," he said, and with a small wave of his cane, turned and left. The bell above the door jingled softly behind him, its sound fading into the hum of morning outside.
Silence again.
The man at the center table was still drinking, slow and steady, each sip dragging just a little longer than it needed to. His presence filled the room in ways no sound could. When he finally set the empty cup down, it wasn't a simple gesture.
Then, with a muffled rustle of his coat, he slipped a hand beneath his shirt and pulled out a folded poster and a small note. He placed both on the table, then set the coffee cup on top, the bottom rim pressing the paper down flat. Steam no longer rose from the cup, but something colder did, from the quiet gesture itself, from the intent that seemed to hum beneath it. Ash, watching from the counter, felt it in his chest first. A tension. Like the calm before a storm that remembered it had work to finish.
The man turned without a word, head still low, the brim of his hat cutting a sharp shadow across his face. His boots scraped softly against the wooden floor as he walked toward the counter and straight past it.
Rose's brows furrowed when she realized he wasn't reaching for his pocket, wasn't even slowing down. "Wait—" she began, but Ash's hand moved faster, gently catching her wrist before the words could leave her mouth. Her eyes flicked down to his hand. For the first time, she saw the dark ink circling his wrist. Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Something in Ash's eyes told her not to.
The man's steps carried him to the door. He paused at the threshold, one hand brushing the iron handle. He didn't turn back, didn't offer so much as a glance.
Ash's gaze fell on the side of his neck, just beneath the collar was a mark. Shadowy but deliberate. Ink.
A symbol, or maybe a fragment of one.
His pulse quickened, breath caught halfway in his chest. "Is he...?" The thought flickered through him, a quiet jolt beneath calm eyes.
The man stepped outside, the bell above the door giving a single dull chime. The street swallowed him in a wash of light and fog.
Rose turned to Ash. "Why… what just happened?" She said in low, hesitant voice.
Ash kept staring at the doorway, still feeling the trace of that presence like a shadow that refused to leave. Then he exhaled and said, carefully steady, "I don't wanna bring any kind of drama." She looked at him for a long moment, searching, but his face was unreadable. Finally, she nodded, though uneasily.
After a pause, she noticed the ink again and asked, "By the way… when did you get that tattoo?"
Ash froze just a fraction, then pulled his cuff down to cover his wrist. "Previous night," he said quickly, tone casual but slightly off, "at the roadside."
Rose's eyes lingered on him for too long, too perceptive but she said nothing. She just turned her attention toward the table where the stranger had sat. Ash followed her gaze, his thoughts already sharpening. The poster still lay there, half-folded, held down earlier by the weight of a cup that had long gone cold.
Without a word, he stepped out from behind the counter and walked toward it. His shoes made soft sounds over the wooden floor. Rose followed a few steps behind, silent, the air between them filled with the scent of stale coffee and the faint chill from the open door.
The folded poster waited on the table, the edges slightly damp from the cup's ring.
Ash slid the half-empty coffee cup aside, its dark ring marking the table like a quiet witness, and reached for the folded sheet. The parchment felt rough beneath his fingers, still a little damp from steam. He unfolded it carefully. First the poster, then the smaller note tucked beneath. The first thing he saw was a face. Or what was supposed to be one. The lines had been deliberately smudged, charcoal dragged across paper until all that remained was a suggestion of eyes and a crooked grin. Above it, in bold serif letters:
"Francis Morgan — 25,000,000 Golden Velms."
Below, the words: "Dead or Alive."
Rose leaned closer, her tone caught between awe and unease. "Francis Morgan," she whispered, "one of the most dangerous pirates on the eastern sea… why would someone leave his bounty poster here?"
Ash didn't answer immediately. His pupils narrowed a little as he studied the poster. Twenty-five million. Even without knowing the worth of every coin, he knew what that number meant. That wasn't a street criminal. That was power that had burned ships and carved history with bullets.
Aardh's voice stirred faintly in his mind, a low murmur, "damnn."
Ash placed the poster back on the table, his movements deliberate and quiet. He picked up the smaller note next, unfolding it with two fingers.
A single line sprawled across the page, written in hurried, messy handwriting. Each letter slanted and uneven, as though scribbled by someone who never stayed still.
"I'll pay for yo coffee tonight."
For a moment, Ash just stared at it, the words oddly lighthearted against the weight of the bounty beside it. Then, without meaning to, he almost smiled. Aardh hummed softly. "Charming manners for a man worth twenty-five million."
Ash set the note down beside the poster and exhaled through his nose, eyes still fixed on the blurred face. "How did we know it was Francis"" he murmured under his breath, the words barely audible. "He could be someone else."