(Gunshots firing)
"Run!" a haunting familiar voice echoed in the dark.
"RUN! Don't look back! Get out of here!"
(Another sharp sound of gunshot pierced through the air)
"No, I'm not leaving you behind."
"Run away! I beg you!"
I ran.
Smoke. Screams. A body falling and a huge fire breaking out right in front of my eyes.
"NO!"
I yelled my lungs out when something pulled me away.
"Excuse me?"
"No! Je-" (I can't breathe. I can't see.)
(a sudden thud on the table) "Excuse me, sir?"
Yotha's eyes snapped open.
The café's warm daylight stung his eyes.
The dream clung to him like smoke, even though the surrounding was quiet.
The scent of roasted coffee beans and vanilla filled the air - nothing like the metallic tang of blood he'd just escaped from.
Across the counter, stood a customer - a girl, shifting awkwardly on her feet.
"Um...excuse me?"
"Huh?"
"I was wondering if I could get your number..."
Yotha couldn't hear her words...he was still stuck in his head.
"Are you listening?" the girl's voice raised.
Yotha finally snapped out of it and blinked at her. "Sorry, were you saying something?"
"Well, um...so I was-"
"How may I help you mam?" another voice stepped in.
A tall man with a muscular build entered the scene bearing a charming smile.
"Ah, sorry about him. He's been out of it lately."
The customer gave a nervous laugh. She placed an order for an iced americano with a shot of espresso and left silently.
"That's the thirteenth time this week!" exclaimed the black haired tall guy with a striking appearance.
"Don't you think it's happening a little too often lately?"
Yotha rubbed his eyes, "Pond, you're thinking too much. Don't mind it."
Pond snorted, "You really think you look okay? Look at all that sweat and pale face of yours. You've got bags under your eyes, you sit in the café like a haunted mannequin and your answers are colder than an iced americano!
If this keeps up, the only thing you'll be serving is empty chairs."
Yotha gave a tired sigh, "I'll take care of that. Just do your work."
"Hah, that bloody ice king!" Pond muttered as he took another order.
The café fell back into it's peaceful rhythm.
Afternoon sunlight stretched long golden streaks across the tiled floor and the glass door made a reflection of 'Coffee With Kintsugi'
-soft jazz playing in the background, and the occasional chime of the bell above the door when a new customer entered.
It was just past 2pm when the door swung open.
A small group of young men stepped in, laughter and chatter trailing behind them. Seemingly coming after finishing their lunch.
Among them was a sharp-eyed, well dressed boy with puppy eyes who scanned the place with quiet intrigue.
He paused, eyebrows lifting slightly as he took in the sight.
Unlike the usual pastel or modern cafes in town, this one was earthy, warm - shelves lined with vintage porcelain bowls, each visibly broken but filled with gold. There were hand-written notes on the walls, soft cushions, and coffee served in cracked cups mended with delicate gilding...
"Strange place" he said to himself.
His eyes wandered to the golden veins running through the ceramics, to the low lighting that softened everything, and finally - to the counter when one of his friends asked, "Santa, what will you have?"
The young man lifted his eyes up, "Uh...um, I'll have a mango bingsu with-"
He stopped as soon as his eyes fell on the person across the counter taking their order.
"It's...him!" he whispered under his breath.
Santa kept staring blankly at Yotha. He couldn't believe his eyes. He finally met the guy who once saved his life!
It had been years...
A rainy night.
An alley behind a busted convenience store.
Blood on his knee. A gun pointed at his head.
And then- him
A man had stepped in from the shadows. Cold eyes. Silent, swift, and deadly. He'd taken down the assailant in seconds. No words. No name. Just a warning glance that had burned itself into Santa's memory ever since.
The man had turned to leave, disappearing as suddenly as he appeared, but not before Santa caught his right rand filled with scars- a few burned and a few which were probably old knife cuts... and the faint tremble in his hands.
That night, Santa was saved by a ghost. A demon.
And now-
Now, that ghost was standing in front of him, alive and real, pouring coffee like a regular barista in a cozy little café. Years of wondering who he was, where he vanished to.
Not in a police record. Not in a secret file. Santa has looked up at least a little over five thousand profiles during his training period at the police academy but, all in vain. And here he was.
Just in a plain black apron, surrounded by golden-cracked cups and scent of cinnamon.
"A mango bingsu with vanilla ice cream coming up!" Yotha said again, voice steady and polite.
There was no flicker of recognition.
Nothing.
To him, Santa was just another customer.
Santa's lips parted, wanting to say something. But his throat locked.
Pond appeared beside Perth with a grin, placing down menus.
"Feel free to take a seat wherever you like. Specialty today's the persimmon bingsu with red bean paste-if our Ice King here hasn't scared you off yet.".
Yotha didn't bother.
Santa waited until his friends had gone off to browse the bookshelf wall near the counter. He stayed seated, eyes fixed on the man who had unknowingly haunted his memories for years.
"Your order," he said simply, about to turn away.
"Wait," Santa said, his voice lower than he intended. "Can I ask you something?"
Yotha paused. "Go ahead."
Santa stared at him, heart thrumming. "Have we met before?"
Yotha's gaze didn't flicker.
"I don't think so. I'm good with faces."
"Maybe not in a place like this," Santa replied carefully.
"But... somewhere darker."
Yotha's fingers twitched-barely noticeable, but Santa caught it.
"You must be mistaken," Yotha said after a beat.
"I don't go to... darker places."
"But you once did." Santa's voice grew softer. "Didn't you?"
Yotha tilted his head, his face impassive. "You ask a lot of strange questions for someone ordering a bingsu."
Santa offered a smile, brittle at the edges. "I guess I have a thing for strange places... and strange people."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken. Yotha turned to leave, but just before walking away, he murmured without turning around-
"Some memories aren't meant to be recovered."
Then, as if realizing he'd said too much, Yotha stood straighter, his walls slamming back up in a single breath.
"Enjoy your dessert," he said, and turned away not before Santa noticed the name badge on his apron, inscribed-
Yotha Rueng
Santa didn't understand a word Yotha said. He finally started to eat the mango bingsu which was melting.
His eyes sparkled as soon as he took the first bite. He had never tasted a bingsu like this before! Perhaps it was the best bingsu he ever had in his life! He was too delighted to have such an amazing dessert that he was so immersed in devouring it...
Little did he know that Yotha had been staring at him the whole time...
Santa scooped the last bite of the mango bingsu into his mouth, the sweetness melting like silk on his tongue. It was... divine. Unreasonably divine..
Across the counter, Yotha stood silently, drying a cup.
But his eyes weren't on the cup.
They were on Santa.
Just for a fleeting moment - almost too quick to catch - Yotha smiled.
A small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips as he watched Santa devour the bingsu like a little kid who'd found joy in a simple bowl of snow and syrup.
"Is...is that a smile? Yotha, you're smiling?"
Pond's voice cut through the silence, wide-eyed as he emerged from the kitchen with a tray in hand.
"Oh my god. Did I just witness the miracle of the century?" Pond gasped dramatically.
Yotha blinked, expression snapping back to his usual blank stare.
"It IS a smile! You do remember how. What's next? You're gonna say good morning to the customers and not sound like a zombie?"
Yotha turned away with a low sigh.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Pond leaned in closer, whispering behind the tray, "Is today special? Am I missing something? Oh wait-did the Ice King just melt for a customer?"
Yotha didn't respond.
But the corners of his mouth twitched - just slightly.
And Pond, for all his theatrics, went still for a moment, watching his friend with quiet relief.
"Glad to have you back... even if it's just for a moment."
Then, as quickly as it appeared, the smile was gone.
Replaced by that familiar chill again. Cold eyes. Blank face.
Santa looked up too late to notice.
But something lingered.
Santa leaned back slightly, studying Yotha with wide, uncertain eyes. There was something about the way this man talked and moved-like he carried old scars under his skin. He went up to talk to Yotha again.
"You really don't remember me, do you?" Santa asked, testing the waters.
Yotha met his gaze calmly. "I remember everything that matters."
Santa frowned. "And people don't?"
"People come and go," Yotha replied coolly. "It's easier to forget them before they forget you."
Santa's fingers curled into his sleeves. "Is that what you do? Forget people?"
Yotha's voice softened, almost too gently. "Only the ones I wish I could've saved."
That hit harder than Santa expected. He opened his mouth to ask more, but Yotha spoke again, this time quietly, eyes drifting to the golden seams in the plate he had served.
"You know," Yotha murmured, "broken things... they can be beautiful. But they also remember exactly where they were shattered."
Santa swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "You sound like someone who's been broken a lot."
Yotha gave a faint, bitter smile. "No one walks through fire and comes out whole."
Santa had no idea what Yotha's words meant. Thoughts wandered in his head as he walked out of the café. Yotha seemed alot peculiar than he expected him to be. Just everything felt.. eerie, be it the café, the desserts- served in kintsugi and that man.
"Yotha Rueng", Santa muttered as he looked back at the café.
"This place...there's something about it." he said as he walked away to catch up with his friends.
"Maybe you're right..." Yotha said, eyes briefly flicking to a bowl filled with bingsu on the serving table.
"Today might really be a bizarrely special day."
Pond blinked. "Huh?"
But Yotha was already walking away, vanishing into the back like a ghost returning to the shadows.
Pond stood there, tray in hand, brow furrowed.
"What... just happened? What's gotten into him?"
Though Santa got a very unusual feeling- something about the café, about the man behind the counter, about the dessert that tasted like a forgotten memory, made him curious.
Santa couldn't explain the ache in his chest. Or why this place - this strange, quiet café - made him feel like he was on the edge of remembering something important.
For some reason he felt at ease, warm and deep inside he knew...
He just knew one thing.
He wanted to come back.