The next hour is a blur of minor blunders. I bring the wrong drink order to a table: sparkling water instead of still. Minor mistake, easily corrected, but it feels like another item on my growing list of failures. I forget to bring extra bread to a couple who requested it. They have to remind me. Twice. I nearly trip over my own feet while carrying a tray of dirty dishes, catching myself at the last second but sloshing water onto the floor.
But I keep going. Because what else am I supposed to do? Quit on my first day?
Actually, that's starting to sound pretty appealing…
By the time 8 PM rolls around, the café has quieted considerably. The celebration party has left, replaced by a few couples and solo diners who seem far less demanding. The background jazz feels less like a soundtrack to my own personal hell and more like actual pleasant ambiance again.
Mr. Vale approaches me at the service station. "Adam, your shift is over. You may prepare to leave."
"Thank you," I manage, heading to the staff room.
I change out of my uniform, relieved that it's finally over. I fold everything neatly and tuck it into my backpack.
When I emerge, Mr. Vale is waiting near the front, wiping down the last table with methodical precision.
"Adam," he says, straightening up. "A moment, please."
Oh god. Here it comes. The "you're not cut out for this" speech. The "maybe this isn't the right fit" talk. The—
"You did well today."
I blink. "I... what?"
Mr. Vale's expression is warm, almost paternal. "I know you're upset with yourself over your performance. And that's actually a good thing, it means you care. It means you hoped you'd do better. But I want you to understand something important… I never expected you to perform well today. It's your first day in a professional service environment. No one, and I mean no one, performs well on their first attempt at anything truly new. The fact that you showed up, tried your best, and continued even when things got difficult? That's what matters."
"But I broke a plate. I upset a customer. I—"
"You made mistakes," he interrupts gently. "Human mistakes. The kind every server makes when they're learning. I've broken more plates than you've ever seen in your life, Adam. I've upset customers. I've spilled drinks, forgotten orders, tripped over my own feet. The difference between a poor server and a good one isn't perfection… it's persistence."
He places a hand on my shoulder with an almost grandfatherly gesture.
"You'll do better tomorrow. And even better the day after that. Trust the process. Trust yourself." He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Now, go home. Get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."
The words help, but they don't completely erase the weight in my chest. I nod anyway, managing a weak smile.
"Thank you, Mr. Vale."
"No, thank you for your hard work today. Truly."
I head back to the kitchen to say goodbye to the staff, and they're all surprisingly encouraging.
"First day's always the hardest," the woman at the prep station says with a warm smile.
"You did fine, kid," the grill guy adds. "We've all been there."
Their kindness somehow makes me feel both better and worse. Better because they're being supportive. Worse because it confirms that yes, I had a rough day, and it was obvious enough that everyone noticed.
I leave the café and escape into the night, grateful for the cool air and the relative anonymity of the darkened streets.
The walk home feels longer than usual, my body aching in ways I didn't know were possible. My feet hurt. My back hurts. My pride is in tatters.
By the time I reach the house, I'm running on fumes. I push through the door and immediately spot Selene and Bianca lounging on the couch together. Selene's scrolling through her phone while Bianca reads what looks like a manga volume. They look cozy and comfortable in a way that makes me deeply jealous.
Selene is in her strawberry pajamas, and Bianca is wearing an oversized band tee and, knowing her, probably nothing else.
They both look up as I enter, and I don't even make it three steps before my legs give up on the concept of supporting my weight.
I faceplant directly onto Selene's lap.
Oh my god. This is heaven.
Her thighs are impossibly soft, like someone took clouds and gave them physical form. I can smell her signature strawberry scent, and for a moment, all the stress of the day just... evaporates.
"Hard day?" Bianca asks, amusement in her voice.
"Nnngnghhh," I respond eloquently, my face buried in blessed softness.
"Awww, there, there, Adam," Selene coos, and then her hand starts patting my head, her fingers running through my hair in a way that should probably be illegal because it just feels so damn good.
Pure. Absolute. Bliss.
"We all have bad days," Bianca adds, and I feel her hand join Selene's in the head-patting initiative.
Two hands. Playing with my hair. This is it. This is the peak of human comfort. Nothing will ever top this moment.
"Mmmmph," I contribute to the conversation.
"That bad, huh?" Selene says with a soft laugh, her fingers gently massaging my scalp in a way that's turning my brain to mush.
You know what? Maybe I should have bad days more often. This is great.
I'm fully prepared to spend the rest of my natural life in this exact position when I hear the front door unlock.
"I'm home!" Mom calls out, her voice carrying that particular exhausted quality I recognize all too well now.
I lift my head from Selene's lap—reluctantly, tragically—and turn to look at the doorway.
Mom walks in, and for the first time, I really see how tired she looks. Maybe it's because I just experienced my own version of workplace exhaustion, but suddenly all the signs are obvious: the way her shoulders sag, the tightness around her eyes, the heaviness in her step.
She's tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushing tired.
She works herself to the bone for us. Always picking up overtime shifts, always putting everyone else first, always making sure we have what we need even when it means sacrificing her own rest.
And I've been so wrapped up in my own drama: the system, my appearance, my problems, that I haven't really acknowledged what she goes through every single day.
Ding! Quest log updated.
Before I consciously decide to move, I'm up off the couch and walking toward her.
"Adam?" she says, surprised, as I wrap my arms around her.
As always, I'm short enough that my head ends up resting comfortably between her breasts, but I don't care. I just hold her, trying to convey through the hug all the appreciation I don't know how to put into words.
"Rough first day?" she asks, her voice going soft and maternal in that way that makes you feel like everything might actually be okay.
"Yeah," I mumble into her sweater. "But I just realized how tired you must be. I wanted to give you a hug."
"Awww, Adam." I feel her arms wrap around me, returning the embrace. "You're so sweet."
"Awww, group hug? Let me join!" Selene's voice comes from behind me, and suddenly she's wrapping her arms around both of us, her warmth pressing against my back.
A few seconds later, I feel another set of arms join the pile, Bianca, adding her quiet presence to the embrace without saying a word.
We stand there for a while, the four of us wrapped up in each other's warmth. I can smell Mom's honey perfume, Selene's strawberry sweetness, and Bianca's earthy cherry scent all mixing together into something that just smells like home.
And here's the thing: I don't feel even a hint of the usual awkwardness I'd expect. No inappropriate thoughts, no teenage hormone-driven weirdness. Just... warmth. Safety. Love.
The stress and disappointment from the café seem to melt away in the comfort of this moment. My failures at work don't feel so catastrophic when I'm surrounded by people who care about me regardless of whether I drop plates or upset customers.
With support like this, I think I can survive anything. Even another shift at the Midnight Café.
Because at the end of the day, I have this. A family that loves me unconditionally. A safe place to land when everything goes wrong.
And honestly? That might be worth more than any Evolution Points the system could ever give me.
We finally break apart after what feels like both seconds and an eternity. Mom's smiling warmly at all of us, though I can still see the exhaustion in her eyes.
"Alright," she says with gentle authority. "I'm going to change out of these work clothes and maybe take a very long, very hot shower. You three behave yourselves."
"We're angels," Selene says with an innocent smile that would fool absolutely nobody.
"Uh-huh," Mom responds with the skepticism of someone who's been dealing with Selene for eighteen years. "Angels. Sure."
"Come on," Bianca says, pulling me back toward the couch. "You look like you're about to pass out standing up."
"That's an accurate assessment," I admit, letting myself be led back and collapsing between my two stepsisters.
Selene immediately reclaims one of my shoulders, curling up against me like a cat seeking warmth. Bianca takes the other side, her presence somehow both calming and grounding.
"Want to talk about it?" Selene asks, unusually gentle.
"Not really," I say honestly. "I just want to sit here and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist for a while."
"Works for me," Bianca says, picking up her manga again.
Selene pulls up something on her phone, it looks like some kind of livestream, and I just close my eyes, letting the ambient noise of the house wash over me.
Tomorrow I'll have to go back to the café. Tomorrow I'll have to face the reality of being the new guy who breaks plates and messes up orders. Tomorrow I'll have to work through my mistakes and try to do better.
But tonight? Tonight I'm just going to enjoy being home, surrounded by people who care about me, safe in the knowledge that no matter how many times I screw up out there in the world, I've got people here who'll always welcome me back.
And honestly, that's not a bad thing to fall asleep thinking about.