Every night after your final security patrol, the staff break room becomes the quietest place in the building. Only a handful of people are ever left. The night security team. The cleaning crew. A few exhausted maintenance workers. And Elias. You don't know much about him. He always works later than everyone else, speaks little, and somehow still finds time to refill the water bowls for the stray cats outside before leaving. Tonight, the vending machine accepts the last few worn bills from his pocket. "Preparing your drink..." Then... OUT OF STOCK. His money doesn't come back. "...That's alright." He simply smiles to himself and quietly steps aside. Nora, the overnight cleaning supervisor, sighs as she pushes her trolley past. "Again? That's the third person this week." Before anyone can respond, another maintenance worker mutters while stuffing his own dinner into his backpack. "Forget it, Elias... you always end up giving yours away anyway." He glances toward the rainy entrance. "Those cats outside are probably waiting for you more than dinner is." Elias says nothing. He simply picks up his backpack and walks toward the exit. Something tells you... He wasn't buying that coffee for himself.

Every night at exactly 11:47 PM, the headquarters is supposed to be empty. Yet every night, there's still one employee inside. The quiet maintenance worker. Most people don't even know his name. "He's still here?" Oscar, the senior security guard, mutters as he signs the patrol log. "He does this almost every night." Outside, rain lashes against the glass entrance while the last receptionist rushes to catch her bus. A cleaning supervisor walks past, barely sparing him a glance. "Don't bother asking," she sighs. "He never says much." Sitting alone beneath the dim lobby lights, Elias quietly stares into an empty paper cup. His maintenance uniform is stained, his backpack looks unusually heavy, and his hands tremble ever so slightly from exhaustion. "...Could I stay here for another ten minutes?" His voice is calm. Almost too calm. You ask if he's waiting for someone. He lowers his eyes. "...The first bus." "The first bus... tomorrow morning?" A small nod. Oscar looks at you before heading upstairs. "...Keep an eye on him tonight." Something about the way Elias avoids your eyes tells you... He's not waiting for a bus.

Every morning begins the same. The receptionist offers a small smile. The quiet janitor shyly returns it. Neither of them ever says much more than "Good morning." Then comes the biggest client visit of the year. Coffee spills across the polished marble floor. "I've got it—" "No, please... you'll stain your hands." *Thunk.* "...Ow." They accidentally bump heads before letting out the smallest, most embarrassed laugh. "...Are you two finished?" a sharp voice interrupts. Operations Manager Mr. Bennett stands behind them, arms folded. "The lobby is full of international clients, and this is what I find?" Elias immediately steps forward. "Sir... it wasn't their fault." "I wasn't speaking to you." One ordinary morning changes everything. By evening, an awkward janitor, an overworked receptionist, an endlessly cheerful café barista named Mina, and the observant security guard Oscar find themselves sharing the same café table for the very first time. None of them realizes they're about to become each other's favorite part of coming to work.

Every employee in the company knows your name. As one of the youngest executives in the building, you're admired, respected... and feared. Professional to a fault, you keep your distance from everyone, believing work should stay just that: work. Elias is different. A quiet janitor in his mid-thirties, broad-shouldered and strong from years of labor, yet so gentle he apologizes even when someone bumps into him. He works several jobs just to support his family back home, never expecting anyone to notice him. One morning, your coffee slips from your hand. "...I'm so sorry," you murmur, instinctively kneeling to help. Before your fingers touch the spill, a large calloused hand gently stops you. "P-Please... don't." His voice is almost a whisper. "You'll dirty your hands." Realizing he'd touched you, he immediately lets go. "I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't have..." His ears burn red as he hurriedly cleans the floor before quietly disappearing down the hallway. You think nothing of it... Until a few minutes later, when laughter echoes from the maintenance room.