Han Yuu
The streets at dawn were always chilly. Laden with the moisture from inside the house, I couldn't help but shrink into myself whenever I stepped out. But like everyone else, I'd grown used to it. The same streets, the same cold, the same hour. It was a dawn landscape I encountered every day to the point of boredom, yet it never really felt tiresome.
That all changed the moment I arrived at Cafe Yuu. There was always the manager waiting to greet me with a smile that warmed me straight through.
She'd flash that naturally affectionate smile and say hello, standing tall at the cafe entrance just for me. And even on this final day, there she was at the door, spotting me approach and offering a soft grin.
"Hanjun, you're here?"
"Yep, Manager."
For two years, ever since leaving the countryside for Seoul, Cafe Yuu had been my lifeline—my livelihood and my daily routine. Knowing today was the last made a faint bitterness rise in me, like the scent of coffee brushing my nose.
* * *
Once inside, the manager and I naturally settled across from each other at a table.
"Manager, here—take this."
I'd decided to give her the gift I'd bought yesterday first, pulling out the capsule coffee from my bag.
"Oh my! Hanjun, what did you go and buy this for?"
"You've done so much for me. And it's not even that expensive."
She hesitated at the gift, then accepted it with a gentle nod.
"I've done plenty for you? If anything, I'm the one who's grateful."
"...Manager. If you said that to anyone else, I'd get beaten to death."
Her kindness toward me was overflowing, to the point where I wondered if it was okay to be that generous with someone.
"When rent was short, you advanced me my pay."
"...That was nothing..."
"You paid me way more per hour than anywhere else."
"...Because you worked so well..."
"You always bought me meals during breaks and packed the leftover sandwiches."
"...That was just because I wanted to..."
For some reason, I'd turned into the inquisitor, and she was dodging my points. Realizing the irony, she let out a soft laugh.
"...Hanjun, the fact that you remember all that, keep it tucked in your heart—that's exactly why I'm grateful."
"What do you mean? Anyone would remember."
"No, Hanjun."
She propped her chin on her hand, lost in thought for a moment. After a brief silence, she spoke.
"I'm not good at that sort of thing."
"...You, Manager?"
I echoed in disbelief, and she gave a meaningful smile.
"Yes, even someone like me... I'm a bad person at heart."
"If you're bad, then everyone else belongs in jail."
"Hee hee hee..."
She chuckled at my words, then posed a question.
"Hanjun, have I ever told you why I opened this cafe?"
"No, you haven't."
She swept her hand across the table and continued.
"When I lived overseas, I had this one dream."
"What was it?"
"As a kid, I felt crushed by studies unlike everyone else... I dreamed of running far away and opening a little shop."
She wore a bittersweet smile—the first time I'd seen anything but her usual gentle one. I nodded to show I was listening, and she went on.
"Selfish, right? Where I grew up wasn't peaceful at first. And here I was, raised in a comfortable home with plenty to eat, yet dreaming of escaping to run a shop... Ridiculous, isn't it?"
"...Kids think that way. It's fine."
I offered comfort at her regretful expression. She shook her head slowly.
"It wasn't just kid stuff. Even later, I was the same. It took people I cared about getting hurt for me to finally snap out of it—and even then, barely. If I'd just been less selfish back then... surely... surely things would've been better."
"......"
Her lonely smile and the deep wound in her words left me silent, unable to respond lightly.
"So I worked hard, late as it was, and somehow tied up loose ends... But in the peaceful world that followed, regrets kept flooding back. 'If I'd woken up sooner, been less selfish...' Those thoughts wouldn't stop, and I couldn't focus on my old work. I got pushed into this—fled here and opened the cafe. And not long after, you showed up, Hanjun."
She gazed at me steadily.
"I know how desperate you were at first."
"...Yeah."
Coming down from the countryside with barely any money, scrambling for survival—I applied everywhere. Cafe Yuu was close to my place and paid well. For the full-time gig—mornings to evenings, five days a week—I prepped like crazy for the interview. Though facing her stunning beauty, Grandma's dying words 'don't trust women' had me bombing it.
"You were a mess back then, but so desperate... I couldn't help getting distracted."
"Desperate? Nah, just a total idiot."
"No way. How could I call someone as diligent as you an idiot? If anything... I was jealous."
Her meaningful smile deepened.
"Seeing your desperation, I even played mean pranks sometimes."
"You did?"
She nodded with an eye smile, saying nothing.
"Of course. Hanging out with you during breaks, feeling jealous, teasing you... Watching you brought me peace. That's why, with you by my side, I found the courage to go back."
"...What do you mean, because of me? You'd have been the same with any other part-timer."
She stared right at me, smiling earnestly, blinking with sincere eyes. Unable to bear that adult's genuine smile, I looked away.
"Hee hee hee... No, it really was thanks to you."
She eyed me fondly, like I was adorable. After her serious story left things a bit awkward, I quickly changed the subject. With all our cafe chats, we slipped back to normal in no time.
"By the way, Manager."
A sudden question popped up.
"Yes?"
"That cafe latte you make every morning—what's in it that gives it such a deep flavor?"
Having worked there long enough, I could make most drinks. But no matter how I tried, I couldn't replicate her special morning latte. Nutty and sweet—if it were on the menu, customers would've ordered nothing else.
She gave a cryptic smile.
"......"
Playful yet shy.
"It's a secret. Next time we meet, I'll make it for you again... So let's leave it for then."
"Aw... Too bad. If I knew the recipe, I'd be rolling in cash."
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she giggled.
"You're such a perv, Hanjun."
"Huh...?"
"Kidding. Since we're on the topic, want one today?"
"Oh, yeah. I'd love that."
She sprang up. But as she headed to the counter, she glanced back, tilting her head.
"Huh...?"
"Something wrong?"
I checked myself over and asked. Her expression turned serious as she approached with heavy steps.
"Ha... Hanjun, stay still for a sec..."
"Yes?"
Her urgent stride made me step back instinctively.
"Just stay still...!"
She lunged suddenly, hand shooting toward my neck at blinding speed. Once, I wouldn't have reacted—but lately, my body was unnaturally sharp. I dodged reflexively.
"Manager?"
I backed away slowly.
"Ha... Hanjun, trust me just once and stay put. It's serious... Just once... believe me..."
She strained to explain desperately. But I'd seen her hand aiming for my necklace, so I kept my distance.
"What's wrong, Manager...? You can't touch this. It's Grandma's heirloom."
I even brought up Grandma to calm her. But her face hardened.
"Hanjun... listen. That person... might not be your grandma."
"What...?! What are you talking about?!"
"That... necklace has a... curse... Argh! Just hand it over!"
She charged at impossible speed. I dodged as best I could, but her midair leap was too much.
"...! Mmph...!"
Her breasts smothered my face. We tumbled to the floor, and she snatched the necklace.
"Haa... haa... This... the curse..."
She examined the inside closely.
Shit... big trouble.
I swallowed hard, scrambling up from the floor, rubbing my neck.
Kim Jihye had warned me: remove the necklace, and it'd overwhelm female youkai with temptation, stripping their self-control. For humans, just a strong rational attraction—nothing they'd lose control over.
So maybe it wasn't too late yet.
"Huh...?"
She peered at the necklace, sensing something off, then slowly turned to me. Her dazed, reason-fading eyes— I snatched it back and clasped it on. It wriggled like it was alive, wrapping around my neck.
"...Huhhh...?"
She stared with strange eyes.
"M... Manager?"
She looked almost normal, but something felt off. As I edged back, prepping to bolt—
She flushed embarrassed and bowed apologetically.
"Oh... oh my! Sorry, Hanjun. I must've mistaken..."
"I... it's fine, Manager... haha."
Did... it work?
Unlike with Miho, humans could handle the allure—it seemed suppressible enough. I sighed in relief, and she apologized profusely.
"Re... really, it's okay. Could you make that cafe latte you promised?"
"Ah, yes... Just a moment."
She slipped behind the counter, into the curtained storeroom.
"Phew... That was close."
I calmed my racing heart at the table. Then she called from inside.
"Hanjun, come here."
"Pardon...?"
"Come here—I have something to say."
Unease crept in. I crept to the curtained storeroom.
"Hanjun...? You wanted the cafe latte recipe, right?"
"Yes..."
"Come in. I'll tell you."
That confirmed it—something was wrong. I turned to flee, but a slender arm grabbed mine first. With surprising strength, she yanked me inside and pinned me against the wall.
"M... Manager...?!"
Ash-gray hair framing pale horns peeking out. A slender tail swishing behind. And... white liquid dripping, soaking her white shirt's chest.
The manager I'd known... was shockingly... a youkai.
