“Welcome home, Master,” I bowed as a stranger walked through the doors of the cafe.
You see, I work in a maid cafe so we must refer to all our guests as 'master' or 'lady' as we prance around in maid costumes, trying to be 'moe'.
Anyway, the stranger had walked into the maid cafe but I thought it strange that he did not reply with “I'm home,” like most of our guests did. He just slumped down at a table near the back of the room and covered his face with a menu.
I probably wouldn't have cared normally but it was the way the man had eyed me for a split second as he walked past that made me curious.
“Welcome home, Master,” I repeated.
He did not reply,
He shyly pulled the menu away from his face.
“Me?” He asked in almost a whisper.
“Yes,” I smiled. “Welcome home,”
“Th-thankyou,” He stuttered.
I tried to keep the conversation going.
“So, how are you, Master? Have you decided what you'd like to order yet?”
“I-I'm fine, thankyou and no, I have not.”
“You don't seem fine,” I pointed out. “When Master is sad, then his maid gets sad too.” Speaking in third person is all part of being 'moe' apparently.
He didn't answer.
“Master wont feel better if he doesn't tell someone why he's sad,” I pressed.
“Alright, alright,” He half-laughed. “My girlfriend, she...passed away.”
How did I get myself into this?
“Oh, that must be awful for Master,” I noted sympathetically. “But Master shouldn't be sad all the time.”
“I know...” The stranger then looked up at me for the first time since we'd began talking. He stared deeply into my eyes and we felt a strange connection like nothing I'd ever felt before. “You kind of remind me of my girlfriend.” He told me.
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