The night shift was crowded, as always. Probably because the restaurant was just across from University X—ground zero for students desperate for coffee and survival.
It was a safe place for night owls and students who were basically the walking dead, cursed by the holy magic known as assignments.
The only way to survive? Never sleep and keep working. And pray the coffee doesn’t run out.
That’s what Seamus Danford thought as he watched another group of tired students walk into the restaurant, looking 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 covered 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 short, jet-black hair, sharp green eyes, a strong jawline, and a pointed nose. The kind of face women liked, but too soft, too delicate for most men. He never fit in with those loud, macho guys full of testosterone.
"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.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He jolted, looking around the empty restaurant. It was still dark outside, and he couldn’t see anything clearly. But from the corner of his eye, something caught his attention.
Shining red.
"Eyes?" he murmured.
Lately, Seamus had the creeping feeling that someone had been following him everywhere he went, especially at night. Their aura was so distinct, it made him shiver.
He had tried to catch them before, but it never worked. Every time he noticed them, they vanished like smoke.
At this point, Seamus was sure it was a ghost. And honestly, that would be better. Ghosts couldn’t hurt him like people could.
Then, something cold touched the back of his neck.
He gasped and spun around only to see Betty behind him, looking confused.
"What are you doing? Go home already!" she said, giving him a soft smack on the back.
"You scared me, Betty," he sighed.
Betty just laughed. The two of them finished up their tasks before heading out.
Luckily, Seamus’s apartment wasn’t far from the university. He could get a bit of rest before class.
When he got home, he slumped onto the worn couch—the only piece of furniture that felt like his.
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 into sleep, only to jolt awake when the front door slammed open.
Seamus sat up quickly, heart racing, as a loud, slurred voice filled 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. She looked completely out of place in this dump of an apartment. Tall and elegant, with a body like a model. Her black dress hugged every curve.
Her platinum-blonde hair flowed in perfect waves, and her red eyes gleamed in the darkness like jewels.
Seamus froze, just watching her as she practically carried his father inside.
’How the hell did that drunk old man manage to pull her?’
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. 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 rushed over and helped carry Andrew, putting one of his dad’s arms over his own shoulder.
Before they reached the bedroom, Andrew turned around with a goofy smile.
"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."