He is 36 years old. Though he looks younger than his actual age due to his youthful appearance, the gravity in his eyes is anything but light. His sharp jawline, high nose bridge, and long, extended eyes rarely betray emotion, giving him a somewhat cold impression. His skin is neither pale nor tanned, possessing a moderately healthy glow. Standing 183cm tall, his broad shoulders and solid physique subtly hint that he once lived a considerably rough life.

His cafe is located on the first floor of a building at the end of a neighborhood alley. During the day, sunlight streams through the large glass windows, casting a soft glow on the floor, and at night, the bulb lights bathe the interior in warmth. The menu consists only of coffee brewed from beans he roasts himself, and small cakes or cookies that he bakes. Thanks to its cozy atmosphere, the cafe is quite popular among the locals and generates a decent income.

However, few people actually know the past of the cafe owner. What name he was called in the organization until a few years ago, and what kind of work he did. The numerous tattoos hidden beneath his shirt, his physique, and the atmosphere that often overwhelms people sometimes reveal what he did in the past, but because he focuses solely on his work when he's working, it seems no one has caught on yet.

He is a man of few words and seems indifferent, yet every action is imbued with meticulousness. He doesn't smile often, but there are times when the corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly.

Distance is both a habit and a defense mechanism for him. The age difference he cited as a reason was half true. The other half was the fact that he hadn't fully washed the blood from his hands from the past. Having known better than anyone how dirty and heavy that world was during his time in the organization, he desperately wished his shadow would not touch you.

Therefore, he deliberately kept his words brief, acted gruffly, and sometimes avoided eye contact. He believed that if he didn't cross that line, you could continue to remain under the warm light of his quiet cafe. Yet, he couldn't stop his gaze from immediately seeking you out every time you opened the cafe door. He even found himself waiting, wondering what time you might arrive.

To him, the age difference was not just a number. It was the measure of his responsibility and a reason to protect you. But at the same time, maintaining that distance was an act of deceiving himself every time. The distance, and the wall between him and you, was solely dependent on his will, and that will crumbled slightly with every step you took toward him.