I'm lying in bed, spending quality time with my favorite roommate, the water-stained face of Abraham Lincoln on my ceiling. He doesn't talk much, but he's a damn good listener. My eyes gloss over as I mentally replay today's events.
The date—sorry, hangout—with Luna went... actually pretty great once I stopped being an absolute jackass about her coding. It went so well, in fact, that the system decided the experience had made me two points more charming.
Of course, the second I got home, Selene pounced on me like paparazzi who'd just found the scoop of the century, her eyes gleaming with that specific brand of curiosity elder sisters reserve for moments when they sense potential gossip.
"So?" she'd said, materializing in front of me with the kind of speed that suggested she'd been waiting by the door. She was practically vibrating in place, continuously bouncing from one foot to the other, unable to contain her excitement and curiosity. "How was it? What happened? Did you hold hands? Did you kiss? Are you dating now?"
The moment these questions left her mouth was the moment Bianca materialized at the top of the stairs like a goth apparition, descending with the silent grace of someone who definitely wanted to eavesdrop but was trying to make it look casual. She'd plopped herself on the couch, picking up a book and very obviously not reading it. It was upside down, for Pete's sake.
"Selene, we literally just ate food—"
Selene pulled me over to the couch, holding onto my arm so I couldn't escape her interrogation.
"Whoa, what kind of food? Was it romantic food?"
"I... I don't think that's a thing."
She looked at me like I was crazy. "Of course it's a thing! Anything can be romantic with the right ambiance! Anyways, start from the beginning, tell me everything!"
I'd tried to give her the abbreviated version: we went to a café, we ate, we talked, it was nice. But Selene wanted the director's cut with commentary. She asked about Luna's outfit, her hair, what we talked about, what we ordered, whether we shared meaningful looks.
After a barrage of questions, she narrowed her eyes at me, those beautiful pink irises gleaming with sisterly suspicion. "So... do you have a crush on her?"
And look, I could've deflected. I could've made a joke. But something about the way Selene was looking at me: genuinely curious, genuinely invested in my happiness, made me go with honesty instead.
"I don't know," I'd admitted. "But I had fun. Like, actual fun. I haven't hung out with a friend in forever, and it felt... nice."
The interrogation stopped immediately. Selene's previous mischievous and excited expression softened into something warm and genuine, and she'd flashed me one of those smiles that probably causes car accidents when she does it in public. "I'm glad you had fun, Adam. You deserve it."
Then Bianca put down her book (which was still upside down, by the way), and placed a hand on my shoulder, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Yeah. We're happy if you're happy."
They disappeared back upstairs to their rooms, and I was left sitting on the couch, once again feeling deeply emotional about how much my family cares about me. I cannot reiterate this enough: I love my sisters.
After that heartwarming moment, I'd thrown myself into my daily routine with the determination of someone who's decided that self-improvement is his new personality trait. I knocked out my evening workout, which is getting slightly less pathetic each day, thank you very much, followed by a 5K run that earned me another Evolution Point for doing it for three consecutive days. It was exhausting, as always, but I did it. And tomorrow I'm going to do it again.
Abe Lincoln stares down at me approvingly. Or, well, it better be approvingly, though it's hard to tell with water stains.
After a shower and my skincare routine, I finally collapsed into bed.
And that's when my brain decides to replay the café scene.
I was thinking about Luna: about the way she hid behind her menu when we first sat down, about the way her eyes sparkled when the high tea set came, about how sad she looked when I started being condescending about her coding...
Then I find myself thinking about Mr. Vale and his weirdly perfect timing with life advice. The way the man carries himself like he walked out of a Victorian gentleman's handbook, all quiet confidence and flawless elegance in every gesture and word. His voice alone could probably narrate audiobooks and make people weep. It has this resonant quality that makes everything he says sound profound, even when he's just describing sandwiches.
I want that. Not the sandwich-describing ability, but the way he carries himself. His presence. His grace. His ability to defuse a situation with nothing but timely wisdom and impeccable delivery.
And then I remember: they're hiring.
I sit up in my bed, suddenly wide awake. Right, didn't I get a quest about this? It was one of the first quests I received, but I never bothered to read through its details:
Find a Part-Time Job
Description: Working in service provides more than just a paycheck, it's an opportunity to develop social skills and observe human nature up close. You'll encounter difficult customers and challenging situations, sure. But if you pay attention, you'll also meet people with fascinating stories, unique perspectives on life, and admirable qualities worth emulating. Every interaction is a chance to learn something valuable about yourself and others.
Quest Objectives:
Work at a service-related job for 30 days
Meet 10 memorable individuals
Learn 10 meaningful lessons from people you encounter
Receive 100 tips from satisfied customers
Quest Progress:
Days Worked: 0/30
Memorable Individuals Met: 0/10
Meaningful Lessons Learned: 0/10
Tips Received: 0/100
Quest Rewards:
10 Evolution Points??? - Additional rewards determined upon quest completion
Ten Evolution Points. Plus mystery rewards. Plus the chance to learn from Mr. Vale directly.
Decision made. I'm applying to the Midnight Café.
I spend the next hour touching up my resume, which is a depressing exercise in realizing how little I've done with my life. Let's see: freelance programming (good), excellent grades (decent), and... that one time I volunteered at a carnival with my sisters when I was younger.
That's it. That's the list.
I try to make it sound impressive:
Volunteer Experience: Event Coordination and Customer Service (Carnival, 2022)
- Assisted with booth operations
- Provided customer service to diverse clientele
- Collaborated with team members in fast-paced environment
Look at that. I just made "I helped run a ring toss booth for four hours" sound like I was managing a Fortune 500 company. Yeah... Mr. Vale would see through this in a second.
I'm so screwed.
But I print it out anyways with my ancient printer, and it makes these awful noises like it could either be printing a resume or summoning Cthulhu, hard to tell. I resolve to head to the café first thing tomorrow morning.
…
Morning comes too early, as mornings tend to do, and I'm out the door by 7:30 AM, arriving at the Midnight Café right as they open at eight.
Mr. Vale is there, of course, looking like he just stepped out of a period drama about impossibly well-dressed butlers. He spots me immediately and sends me a warm smile that settles my nerves, just a tad.
"Adam," he greets, with a voice that sounds like smooth jazz. "What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here so early?"
I take a breath. Confidence. I can do confidence. (No... no, I really can't.) "Hi... I, uh, saw you had a help-wanted sign. I'd like to apply."
I hand him my tragically inadequate resume.
He looks at me for a moment, inquisitively, before taking it gracefully and scanning it with those sharp, intelligent eyes. He reads through it quickly. Too quickly. He's definitely noticing how empty it is.
The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity. He sets the paper down on a nearby table, his expression unreadable.
"Why do you want to work here, Adam?"
Courage and honesty, that's what worked with Luna. So I try it again.
"I'm trying to change myself," I say. "I've been... coasting through life, running away from anything that scared me. But I've decided I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to stand still, waiting for life to pass me by. I want to be better." I pause, gathering my thoughts. "And yesterday, watching you work, I noticed the way you carry yourself. You have this quiet confidence. This elegance. And… the way you handled that situation between me and Luna..." I meet his eyes. "I want to learn from you. I hope that by working here, I might be able to become more like you, even in a small way."
Something shifts in Mr. Vale's expression.
The warmth doesn't vanish entirely, but it... transforms. His eyes sharpen, becoming more analytical, more assessing. When he speaks again, his voice maintains its pleasant quality, but there's steel underneath now, like a velvet glove concealing an iron fist.
"You want to learn from me?" He tilts his head slightly, studying me with an intensity that makes me feel like I'm being examined under a microscope. "That's quite flattering, Adam. But tell me, what makes you think I have anything to teach someone like you?"
The question catches me off guard. It's not hostile, not exactly, but it's not friendly either. It's... probing.
"I... I don't understand—"
"You're eighteen years old," he continues, his tone still pleasant but his words cutting. "You have minimal work experience, no background in food service, and by your own admission, you've been 'coasting through life.' You say you want to change, but people say many things they don't mean." He picks up my resume, glancing at it again. "Why should I believe you're different? Why should I invest my time and effort into teaching you when there are undoubtedly more qualified candidates who would be grateful for this opportunity?"
He looks at me, and I can see this strange coldness in his eyes. My body screams at me to look down, to apologize, to leave. The shift in his demeanor is genuinely unsettling, not because he's being cruel, but because he's being frigidly honest. This is a real question that demands a real answer, not a casual, appeasing reply.
I feel myself starting to tip my head down, my default response to confrontation kicking in. But something deep inside resists, some stubborn core of pride I didn't even know I had. It flares hot in my chest, refusing to let me back down. Not this time. Not when it matters. Every instinct screams at me to look away, to fold like I always do, but this hidden part of me, this spark of dignity I've never acknowledged, refuses to surrender. I get a hold of myself with my ironclad will. And I force my head back up through sheer, trembling determination. I stare directly into those sharp, assessing eyes.
"I don't know," I hear myself say, my voice steadier than I expected. "You're right, there are definitely more qualified people out there. People with experience, with references, with actual accomplishments on their resumes." I swallow, but I don't look away. "The only thing I might have over them is that I'm here, right now, while they're not. And I genuinely want this job, not for money, not to pad my resume, but because I actually want to work here. I want to learn from you."
I pause, then add, "I know words are cheap. Anyone can say they want to change. But I'll prove it through my actions. I'll be dedicated. I'll work hard." I take a breath. "I'll do it without pay if that makes a difference. Not because I don't value my time, but because what I'm hoping to gain from this experience is worth more to me than money."
The silence that follows is excruciating.
Mr. Vale continues to study me, his expression still unreadable. I can feel sweat forming on my palms, my heart hammering against my ribs, but I don't look away. I can't. If I look away now, I've already lost.
Then, slowly, something shifts in his face. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and a small smile tugs at his lips.
"You won't need to work without pay, Adam." The warmth floods back into his voice, but it's different now, there's a note of respect in it that wasn't there before. "That was a good answer. Truly."
I exhale, my shoulders sagging with relief.
He chuckles softly. "I apologize if that was uncomfortable. But I needed to see how you'd respond under pressure. Words are indeed cheap, what matters is what you do when you're challenged." He picks up my resume again, this time with what looks like genuine consideration. "I admire you, Adam. When we first met, you couldn't even meet my eyes. But now? Now look at you. You demonstrated your desire for change. And you stood your ground against me. You have a bravery in you that I hadn't noticed before."
He sets down the paper, his expression warm but serious. "Most people, when they say they want to change, they mean they want to wake up one day and discover they've magically become someone different. But real change? That requires doing uncomfortable things. Facing challenges you'd rather avoid. And you did just that."
"Does... does that mean...?"
"I'll hire you." He extends his hand. "But please understand, this isn't because you're qualified. Frankly, you're woefully inexperienced for a position like this. I'm hiring you because I want to teach you, and because you've shown me that you're genuinely willing to learn. To me, that matters more than experience."
I take his hand, probably gripping it too enthusiastically. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."
"However," he continues, "I can only offer you two months. You'll be temporarily replacing an employee who's taking a medical leave. Your training starts Monday at 4 PM. Don't be late." His grip is firm, his expression serious. "And Adam? By giving you this opportunity, I'm denying it to others. Don't take it for granted. Get everything you can from this experience."
"I won't. I will. I mean—" I take a breath. "Thank you. Seriously, thank you."
He releases my hand, his expression softening into something approaching grandfatherly again. "I look forward to working with you, Adam."
Ding! Your Willpower has increased by 1
As I leave the café, I'm practically floating. I got the job. I get to work under Mr. Vale. I get to learn from someone who clearly has life figured out.
This is amazing.
This is fantastic.
This is—
I walk through my front door, still distracted by my success, and immediately my teenage brain short-circuits.
Mom is doing yoga in the living room.