Chapter 3
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Ibi 2
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The inside of the cafe wasn't all that crowded. It was a weekday, of course, but even on regular days, it never got packed relative to the shop's size. The atmosphere, the taste, the location—they were all at least decent, and yet...
Ibi subtly raised her middle finger at the boss's back as he headed out. Why, you ask? Because of that bitchy boss's garbage service attitude, that's why. Even I wouldn't come here if that was the service I had to deal with.
Of course, for all her griping, she'd been working part-time here for two months already—a glaring contradiction—but Ibi decided to ignore that and get on with her duties. She wasn't the type to half-ass things, even if she was making minimum wage and had zero professional pride to speak of.
She checked her face in the gleaming surface of the espresso machine, flashing her customer-service smile. Not bad at all. Satisfied, Ibi stepped back out and took her place behind the counter.
From her afternoon shift until closing time, the customers trickled in at just the right average pace—not too many, not too few. Most orders were straight-up Americanos, nothing fancy. It was an endlessly ordinary day.
Until that one customer walked in after the sun had fully set.
Ding-a-ling. The bell above the door rang out, its chime somehow feeling sweetly melodic, like a song. Maybe it was because of the striking woman who stepped in beneath it.
"Ah, what time do you close?"
The first thing that caught Ibi's eye was the hairpin pinning up her elegant updo. People who bothered with such a fussy hairstyle were rare enough, let alone those who wore something that looked like a work of art. Combining both? That woman was exceptionally unique.
And her face—it was the kind of peerless beauty that made Ibi's jaw drop a little without realizing it.
Ibi had always been confident in her own looks, but someone like that? No contest. She'd once dreamed of becoming an actress, so she couldn't help but admire those in a completely different league, even as a twinge of jealousy stirred. If I'd had a face like that, I'd have nailed auditions ages ago.
"...Um, hello?"
The woman tilted her head and called out again. Snapping to, Ibi startled and finally recalled the question.
"Ah, y-yes! Um... we've got about an hour and a half left. That okay?"
The woman smiled like something out of a painting. Tall for a woman, she loomed over Ibi's average height, forcing her to look up.
"Yes, perfect. Could I get a hot coffee?"
Ibi rang her up quickly, and the woman clicked her way over to a two-top by the window. Now that Ibi noticed, her hands were laden with bags. While brewing the coffee, Ibi sneaked a peek—brushes, paper... was that ink? Did she do calligraphy or something?
Her outfit was a ladylike dress that oozed elegance, yet it hugged her figure flawlessly without a hint of strain. Impressive.
Ibi delivered the coffee and retreated behind the espresso machine, muttering to herself.
"Cool big sis vibe. Wonder if I'll turn out like that when I grow up."
Not that her growth spurt days were far behind, so the figure part was probably a lost cause... Still, Ibi grabbed her own chest through her top, giving it a squeeze and smacking her lips. Eh, mine aren't half bad either.
Realizing it was rude to keep stealing glances, Ibi tore her eyes away. Plenty of time until close, so she fiddled with her phone for a bit before even that grew boring. She ended up staring at the ceiling, smacking her lips again.
In the meantime, the handful of other customers packed up and left one by one. By the time the clock neared ten, she was the only one left.
Closing time was approaching. Ibi rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. Should I tell her to go? It felt a tad early, but last call had passed, so she stood from her stool and started shutting down.
As she cleaned the machine, the woman approached the counter with her tray—probably ready to leave. Her refined tone matched her poised appearance perfectly.
"That was delicious. Thank you."
"Haha... it was just the machine. Glad you enjoyed it."
Ibi had no idea why she felt so tense, but she answered awkwardly. The woman touched her lips with one index finger, curving them into an enigmatic smile.
"Come to think of it, isn't today the new moon?"
"New... moon?"
The out-of-left-field comment made Ibi blink. New moon? The first day of the lunar cycle, right?
Oh yeah, today kicked off September. She wasn't big on dates, especially on break from school, so it hadn't crossed her mind until now.
"Yeah, it is. Why?"
"This shop. It's east-facing, right?"
"Huh?"
"The window faces east."
The woman's words grew increasingly cryptic. Had Ibi been fooled by her looks? Was she a few screws loose?
"I... wouldn't know. Does that matter?"
"Who knows. I sure don't."
Ibi's expression twisted further, her brows furrowing. Unfazed, the woman continued.
"Be careful. A customer might come by."
"Huh?"
This was a cafe. Customers were a given. What was there to be careful about?
Ibi shot back a question, but the woman offered no elaboration.
She extended her left index and middle fingers, clamped around a business card. Ibi took it on reflex, and the woman's hazy voice overlapped in her ear.
"If anything happens, call this number. If it's weird... or dangerous."
With one final ethereal smile, she turned and left. Ding-a-ling. The bell rang just like when she'd arrived—but this time, it sounded eerily like a funeral dirge.
Ibi stood frozen, staring blankly. It felt like she'd been hypnotized.
Only when that thought hit did she snap out of it with a sharp gasp. She shook her head vigorously. What the hell? Did a goblin seriously bewitch me?
Finally, she examined the card in her hand.
Her brows knit immediately. It was a business card, sure, but pitch-black, like it'd been dunked in ink. It almost looked like squid.
The texture felt off too—more like leather than paper. Thinking that sparked a faint illusion of warmth, which creeped her out. And for a business card, it was blank as hell.
Flipping it over revealed some writing on the back, at least. No name, no fax, no email—just the kanji for "" and a phone number.
" is the ghost radical... and is bridge? Ghost Bridge?"
The unease deepened. Outside, night had fallen; streetlights flickered on, and the streets emptied.
A chill crept up, but Ibi had a bad habit in moments like this: the sketchier things got, the braver she felt. (She called it bravery; others said she lost her damn mind.)
She snatched her phone and punched in the number. Office, company—who cared? She had to know what this was.
Eleven digits took seconds. She hovered over the call button, thumb tracing circles in the air. Screw it. She mashed it down.
What was she so scared of over one call? She swallowed hard anyway, focusing on the receiver.
"The number you have dialed is no longer in service..."
Deflating, all she got was the automated message. A hollow laugh escaped her. What the actual fuck? Who pulls this lame prank?
She'd only seen her briefly, but the woman was gorgeous enough to spark fan-girl feelings. It left a weird aftertaste. She'd seemed above cheap tricks...
"Whatever. Not like I'll see her again."
Ibi shrugged and got back to closing. She hesitated at the card in her hand before stuffing it in her front pocket, then stepped out to draw the blinds and kill the outside lights.
Turning back to finish cleaning the machine—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A knock on the closed door behind her. Ibi frowned at it. Who knocks on a clearly closed shop?
A flat, muffled voice followed.
"I... customer."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"......"
A cold dread gripped Ibi's chest. The tension she'd just shaken off surged back. No reason why.
"I... customer."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"...Sorry. We're closed."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Nothing but those unnaturally dull knocks. Ibi froze, staring at the door. Something felt profoundly off.
"I... customer."
"Yes, we're closed now..."
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
The knocks escalated—no, they were shaking the damn door now. Ibi flinched, breath quickening.
"I... customer..."
Who the hell was pulling this shitty prank? Fury boiled up. Time to yell them off—and if they kept being rude, call the cops.
Ibi stormed over and reached for the door.