The Café Between Worlds

The café door creaked open, the small bell at the top giving a soft chime, but the figure that entered was anything but soft. Ren looked up from behind the counter and immediately felt a strange chill run down his spine. The man standing before him was tall, shrouded in a long black coat, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up, casting shadows across his face. His presence was commanding—his aura almost suffocating.

Unlike their usual customers who radiated warmth or curiosity, this man felt… wrong. There was something about him that made the hairs on the back of Ren’s neck stand on end. His instincts screamed that this was no ordinary visitor. Ren swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, forcing a smile as he greeted the stranger.

"Welcome," Ren said, his voice steady despite the strange sensation creeping up his spine. "What can I get for you today?"

The man didn’t respond right away, his gaze locked on Ren like a predator eyeing its prey. There was no kindness or warmth in his eyes—just cold, calculating scrutiny. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, sharp, and filled with an unspoken menace.

"Why are you here?"

The question hit Ren like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t the type of question a customer usually asked. It wasn’t about coffee or food—it was directed at Ren, with a weight that felt heavier than the simple words themselves.

"Excuse me?" Ren stammered, genuinely confused. He tried to keep calm, but the man's intense aura was making it difficult. "I'm… here because I run this café. Can I get you anything, or—?"

The man's eyes narrowed beneath his hood. "That’s not what I meant." His tone was sharper now, laced with something akin to frustration or anger. "Why are you here?" he repeated, as if Ren’s very existence in this place offended him.

Ren was at a loss for words. He didn’t understand the question. Why was he here? Because he had died, hadn’t he? He was in the afterlife, trying to make sense of it all, just like anyone else who passed over.

"I… I don’t know," Ren admitted, the uncertainty creeping into his voice. "I guess because I’m dead?"

The man in black didn’t seem satisfied with Ren’s answer. He frowned, taking a small notebook from the inside of his coat. Flipping through the pages, he skimmed something and then gave a short, humorless chuckle. He snapped the notebook shut, locking eyes with Ren once more.

"Dead?" The man’s voice dripped with condescension. "You’re not on my list."

Ren blinked, thrown off by the cryptic statement. "What list?"

"The list of the dead," the man replied flatly, his voice carrying an eerie finality. "You don’t belong here, Ren."

Ren’s heart began to race. His mind flashed back to what Yusuke had told him—that something felt off, that maybe Ren didn’t belong in the afterlife. But this… this was something else entirely.

"I… I don’t understand," Ren said, his voice faltering. "I died, didn’t I? This is the afterlife, right?"

The man sighed, as though Ren’s confusion was an inconvenience. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly the air around them shifted. Ren’s stomach dropped as he noticed everything—everything—had come to a standstill. The soft ticking of the clock stopped, the gentle hum of the café appliances went silent, and most unnervingly, Kazuha, who had been cleaning behind the counter, was frozen mid-motion. The glass she had been holding hovered in midair, suspended in time.

Ren’s breath caught in his throat as he glanced frantically at Kazuha, his panic rising. "What did you do to her?" he demanded, his voice shaking.

"Relax," the man said coldly. "I didn't harm her. Time is just... paused. For now, this is between you and me."

Ren’s pulse raced, his mind spinning. He looked back at the stranger, fear creeping into his voice. "What do you want from me?"

The man crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "I have business with you. You don’t belong here, Ren. Not in the afterlife. Not in my domain."

Ren took a step back, trying to process what he was hearing. "What do you mean? I died, so how can I not belong here?"

The man in black gave him a cold stare. "Your death wasn’t meant to happen. You weren’t supposed to die, at least not yet. You’re not on my list, and that’s a problem."

Ren’s mind reeled. Could it be true? Had something gone wrong with his death? Was that why things felt off? He thought of the strange dreams, the way Yusuke had said he didn’t belong. Was this all connected?

"I don’t understand," Ren said, his voice barely above a whisper. "What do you want me to do?"

"You’re disrupting the balance," the man said, his tone deadly serious. "I need to return you before you ruin the timeline any further."

The weight of the man’s words crashed over Ren, and a sudden terror seized him. "No," Ren said quickly, backing away. "Wait—I have things here. Kazuha, the café—I can’t leave yet. I need to—"

But before Ren could finish, the man snapped his fingers again.

"No!" Ren shouted, trying to resist, but it was too late. His vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to collapse into darkness. His legs buckled beneath him, and he felt himself falling, sinking into an all-encompassing void.

The last thing he saw was the man's cold, indifferent face, and the sound of his own voice echoing in the pitch-black nothingness.

"Wait… I’m not ready…"

And then there was nothing.