The night shift was crowded, as always. Probably because the restaurant sat just across from University X, ground zero for caffeine-fueled desperation.
It was a haven for night owls and the academically undead, the kind of students cursed by holy magic known only as assignments.
The only way to survive? Never sleep and keep working. Also pray the coffee doesn't run out.
That was what Seamus Danford thought as he watched yet another group of weary students shuffle into the restaurant like zombies on their last leg.
He sighed and shook his head. He was a university student too, after all.
Pulling a notepad and pen from his pocket, he approached the table with a bright smile.
"What can I get for you tonight?"
"Black coffee, please… Can you make it seven shots?"
"Ugh, something sweet. I need a sugar rush, man."
"Lots, lots of sodas. Oh, and a chocolate cake would be nice."
Seamus kept smiling. It was a family restaurant, not exactly built for vague, chaotic orders—but judging by the vacant stares and dark under-eyes of the customers, they'd probably eat cardboard if it came with caffeine or frosting.
He just nodded and headed back to the kitchen.
"The hell is that?" the chef grunted when he heard the order. "We've only got pancakes."
"Pancakes with chocolate syrup should do."
"Right… Most of 'em are half-dead anyway. Won't know the difference."
The chef turned to get started while Seamus took a moment to breathe, dropping onto a spare stool in the kitchen. A woman in her mid-thirties approached him, cracking open a can of soda before handing it to him.
"You need this, boy."
"Thanks, Betty." Seamus took the can gratefully, popping the tab and taking a long drink.
"Feel like you're coming back to life, huh?" Betty smirked. "You know, you're too young to waste your life working graveyard shifts in a sad little diner."
"Go out, party, and meet some girls."
Seamus laughed. "Nah. I already have a girlfriend."
Betty shook her head dramatically. "What a shame. If I had a face like yours, I'd have an ego the size of Mount Everest."
"I'm not that handsome. You're just exaggerating." He rubbed the back of his neck, flustered.
Though, if he was honest, she wasn't entirely wrong.
He had jet-black hair cropped short, sharp green eyes, a defined jawline, and a pointed nose.
The kind of face women tended to like, but too soft, too delicate for most men. He never quite fit in with testosterone-fueled types.
"Maybe I'm exaggerating," Betty said, elbowing him playfully as she grabbed the food to deliver. "But hey, you're still a looker."
Seamus gave a small smile, but her words echoed in his mind. Maybe she was right.
He should be out there enjoying life, clubbing, making mistakes, living out the cliché of reckless youth. Instead, he was working two jobs just to pay off his father's debt and scrape through college.
Life was cruel like that. And even someone like him—someone who liked to think of himself as kind, decent, good—still got chewed up and spat out by the world.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, dragging him out of his thoughts. He pulled it out and scanned the messages.
[I need money. Lost again on those damned machines.]
[You think the owner's cheating me? I won yesterday!!]
[Also, I met a hot woman. Damn, son, want a new mom?]
[Anyway, money. Tomorrow.]
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Drunk again."
He loved his father. Really, he did. He was the only family he had left. But sometimes—God forgive him—he wished the man would just keel over in a dramatic accident or die doing something recklessly stupid.
It was a terrible thought. But maybe then, Seamus could finally breathe.
Maybe then, he'd be free.
***
When Seamus's shift ended, he ran through the usual end-of-day routine, balancing the cashier, tidying up the counters, while the cook began prepping for the next shift.
It was exhausting work, but at least his apartment wasn't far from University X.
When he got home, he slumped onto the worn couch—the only piece of furniture that felt like his. Calling it a room was generous.
The rundown apartment had just one, and his father often used it for… "fun" with whatever woman he brought home that night. No way in hell Seamus was sleeping in that bed.
The couch would do. It always did.
He drifted off for a while, letting the fatigue pull him into shallow sleep—until the front door slammed open with a clatter.
Seamus jolted upright, eyes snapping open as a familiar slurred voice echoed through the apartment.
"Oh, my boy! Seamus! You're finally home!" his father, Andrew, stumbled inside, completely wasted, again, and half-draped over a stranger.
Except this stranger wasn't just anyone.
A stunning woman walked in beside him, practically glowing against the dingy apartment. She was tall, with a graceful hourglass figure, and her black dress clung tightly to every curve.
Her platinum-blonde hair cascaded in elegant waves, and the way her crimson eyes gleamed in the dark—alongside the glittering jewelry on her neck and wrists—made her look like royalty who'd taken a wrong turn and ended up in hell.
Seamus couldn't move. He just stared, frozen on the couch as she half-carried his father like he weighed nothing.
She met his gaze, eyes narrowing in amused tone. "Well? You just gonna sit there, or are you going to help me?"
Her voice was melodic and sweet. Like a lullaby laced with poison. It made his skin crawl—in a good way, which was concerning.
"Ah, uh... sorry, ma'am," he said, scrambling to his feet with awkward laughter.
He hurried over and looped one of Andrew's arms over his shoulder.
They hadn't made it two steps before Andrew twisted his head with a dopey grin. "Wait—wait! I haven't introduced you two yet!"
He gestured wildly between them. "This... is Isolde Velstrath! Your new stepmom!"
The woman—Isolde—sighed. "Dear, maybe save the introductions for when you're not slurring your words."
Seamus offered a weak smile. "Sorry about him."
"It's fine, Seamus," she said, and her lips curled into something resembling a smile.
But there was something off about it. It was as if she teasing him, lusting him. Like a hunter looking at her prey.
He blinked. 'Must be the bad lighting, yeah. That had to be it.'
Together, they dumped Andrew onto his bed.
"You can go now, boy!" his father called, half-conscious. "I wanna have fun with your future mom!"
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Lovely."