Chapter Text
The humidity of the city was a far cry from the open air of Shiganshina, but Hange Zoë didn’t mind. Change was just another variable for a grand experiment she has been waiting on.
A tall lanky woman with golden brown locks—her hair was messy but couldn't care less—was seen standing at the center of her new apartment, hands on her hips, surveying the new environment; the chaotic landscape of cardboard boxes and bubble wrap, she glanced at the window, and a bustling city was there to be seen. Somewhere in the room from her books, lesson materials, and her clothes. All she could do was sigh.
Maybe later, she thought.
“New city, new school, new chances for discovery.”
She muttered to herself as she pushed her oval glasses up the bridge of her aquiline nose. By the time she decided to venture out her humble abode, the sun was beginning to set, casting long, orange shadows across the pavement of Stohess.
She was ambitious, driven by a relentless curiosity that often made her forget things like—eating lunch or checking the time.
As she walked out her apartment, she took mental notes of the landmarks in her new environment. Left at the bakery. Right a fire hydrant. Avoid the pothole near the park. She passed a decent looking café and decided to head inside.
“Good afternoon! One iced Vietnamese coffee, to go please!”
She chirped, smiling brightly at the barista, who offered her a weary smile in return—indicating that they were tired—the café was busy.
“Your name, ma'am?"
She paused, she knew “Hange” would likely be butchered on the cup. “Zoë,” she replied. The barista nodded in approval, scribbling her name in the cup. While she waited, she scanned the interior, initially fascinated by the abundance of plants, she looked closer—a disappointment in her face was forming—they were fake plants for decoration.
She snickered to herself, unimpressed. A tragedy to botany.
“Zoë!”
the barista called out, her voiced echoed around the place. Hange grabbed her drink and headed back out into the Stohess streets, her first taste of the city in hand.
She took a cautious sip as she stepped back onto the sidewalk, but the moment the cold liquid hit her tongue, her face contorted. It was aggressively bitter, tasting of over-roasted beans and a filter that had clearly seen better days.
“Yuck."
She sighed, as Hange looked down at the cup in her hands in betrayal.
“God, for a place that expensive, the taste isn't even on par with instant coffee.”
She turned the cup around and noticed the scrawl on the side: Zoey. She chuckled dryly. Not even close. How was her day going this poorly already? She stared at the extra 'y' and wondered why three simple letters were apparently so difficult for people to grasp.
Despite the bitter taste, Hange forced herself to finish the cup. It would be a waste of resources to throw it away, even if the flavor was a total disaster.
She grimaced with every swallow, walking a few more minutes through the winding streets of Stohess until a sudden scent hit her—so rich and inviting that it practically stopped her in her tracks.
She stopped in her steps.
Her nose twitch.
Tucked away on a quiet corner was a café that stood out in its simplicity. It had a soft, pale nude-colored exterior that looked elegant under the setting sun. But it was the smell that caught her—it was immaculate.
It was, without a doubt, the best coffee she had ever smelled, a deep and comforting scent that made her instantly curious about the person behind the counter.
She stepped closer, but the shop’s blinds were already drawn tight, leaving only a tiny gap near the edge. She leaned toward the door, her eyes landing on the small, neat sign:
HOURS: 7:00 AM – 6:30 PM
Monday-Sunday
She pulled back the sleeve of her trench jacket to check her thin leather watch. The band sat perfectly against her honey-toned skin, catching the last of the evening light.
"Shit," she hissed. The hands on the watch didn't lie: 6:56 PM.
Her shoulders slumping in genuine disappointment. She had been so close to finding the perfect brew. Determined to catch even a tiny glimpse of the interior, she leaned in one last time, squinting through the tinted glass. In her excitement, she completely forgot to look where she was stepping. Her boot caught on the edge of an uneven step.
THUD.
It was too late; her momentum was already gone. Her palms slapped against the window, leaving evidence of her crime as she tried to stabilize herself. A loud resonance echoed through the quiet street as her hand and forehead followed with a heavy sound against the tinted windows.
PANG
She froze, splayed against the pristine tainted windows, her heart hammering against her ribs. As she pulled away, she saw it—a clear, oily smudge where her hand and forehead had pressed against the glass, a residue of her own skin oils left behind on the pristine surface even leaving a fingerprint.
Panic set in.
She felt her cheeks deepen into a crimson red, the heat rising all the way to her ears. She darted her eyes around the area, looking for witnesses, but no one seemed to be watching. She exhaled in a shaky breath of relief before scurrying away like a cockroach into the shadows, her black jacket fluttering behind her.
“I'll try again tomorrow before work."
As optimistic as she can be. She muttered with a bright smile and a red dot already forming on her forehead, already imagining the aroma of a proper roast.
On the other side of the door, a man with a permanent frown was busy drying freshly cleaned mugs. At the sound of the impact, he stiffened, his grey eyes darting toward the entrance. He swiftly placed the cup back into its holder on the drying rack with a sharp clack.
Moving with practiced, agitated speed, he reached for the blinds and flicked them open.
Through the tinted glass, he caught a glimpse of a tall woman with messy locks. The setting sun hit her hair just right, turning the brown strands into a chaotic, shimmering gold as she disappeared around the corner.
"What the fuck was that?" He grunted to the empty room.
He closed the blinds and stepped closer to investigate the crime scene. There, right in his line of sight, was the sullied evidence. A clear, messy smudge.
He snickered, a dark, irritated sound in the back of his throat.
"Tch."
By the time she returned home, the clock already read 7:48 PM.
"Fuck."
The silence of the apartment magnifying the sheer volume of work left to do. So many boxes.
Driven by a sudden burst of hyper-fixation, she spent the next several hours in a blur of motion. She prioritized the essentials first: unpacking her things and trying to bring some appearance of order to her disorganized lesson plans.
Even with the lingering, bitter aftertaste of the burnt coffee she’d bought earlier, she found the caffeine kick was doing its job. It made the grueling task easier, keeping her mind sharp and her body moving through the exhaustion.
She didn't even realize what time it was when she finally collapsed onto her mattress, still wearing her socks and smelling faintly of packing tape.
As her eyes fluttered shut, her mind raced with excitement—not just for her first day at Stohess Academy, but with the lingering hope of finally getting a taste of that immaculate roast she’d smelled earlier.