08

I held his gaze for a long while, and that was enough to tell him I needed more explanation. But before he opened his mouth to speak, the door creaked open, revealing the waiter with a tray in his hand.

Mr. Mori gestured for him to come over, and he stepped inside, placing our food on the table.

“Let me do it,” Mr. Mori said, dismissing him with a hand wave. And the waiter hurried out, closing the door gently.

Mr. Mori placed a platter of dried beef tapa, poached eggs, and some fruits and veggies in front of me. Next, he carefully slid the cup of steaming coffee beside the plate.

“Let’s discuss over breakfast,” he said, handing me sachets of brown sugar. “I’m not sure if you like this, but I like caffe lattes.”

“No problem with me.” I took the sachets from his hand, tore a pack open, and mixed its contents in my steaming cup. The heart design of the latte art instantly dissolved into the c