Ira shoulders the door open aggressively, an entry bell cnging noisily above her.

  A familiar face stands behind the counter, busy fulfilling orders with four slender, blue-grey hued arms. She looks up when she hears the bell, examining the girl with twinkling, dark eyes rimmed with feathery long shes that nearly reach her cheeks.

  “Ira! You’re te!”

  Ira grins.

  J. Her favourite person in Noctreign. A tall fairy hybrid — J was as striking as she was kind. Her narrow face and elegant bone gave way to her most striking feature — rge, bck eyes that were at least three times rger than that of a human.

  “Hi. I know, I’m sorry. Just really didn’t feel like working today.” Ira grumbles.

  J snorts.

  “I didn’t mean te for work. I meant te for breakfast. Who cares about work?”

  Ira ughs softly, some of the tension in her shoulders releasing.

  Breakfast. At midnight. Everyone in Noctreign is nocturnal. That’s kind of the city’s whole thing. Hybrids, deep-dwellers, creatures from shadowed corners of the continent — they all find something comforting in the hum of neon and the cover of night. The humans who move here… they’re usually misfits. Or freaks. Or exiles. Ira doesn’t know which category she fits into. Maybe all of them. Maybe none.

  J pulls out a chair for Ira at a small two-person table and sets down a steaming bowl of ramen with all the fixings, along with a tall gss of juice. Chinese nterns sway gently from the ceiling, casting a warm orange glow.

  “Eat. You’re too skinny.”

  She says this to Ira every day. And honestly, she’s not wrong. Ira basically lives on ramen.

  Ira sinks into the chair and eyes the oversized delivery bag slouched in the corner of the restaurant. She groans. She really doesn’t feel like working tonight.

  “Think it’ll be busy?” she asks through a mouthful of noodles.

  J nods from behind the counter, already half-buried in the flood of orders lighting up the screen above her.

  “Always is.”

  Ira doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, it’s good — for J, and for her. Once she’s out on deliveries, the hours blur. Between the adrenaline and constant movement, it’s the only time she doesn’t have space to spiral. No existential dread. No looking in the mirror too long. Just motion.

  But the work itself is... what it is. Relentless. Underpaid. Unfulfilling. And every morning, when she crawls back onto her mattress, body aching, she knows another night’s just around the corner.

  Ira shovels down the st of the ramen, trying to make up for lost time. Before she knows it, the moment of peace is over, and she’s back on her feet, helping J pack up the first round of deliveries. She immediately regrets eating so quickly. The ramen sloshes uncomfortably in her belly as she shoulders her delivery bag and sets off for her shift.

  But J is a calm presence, a hard worker, and Ira matches her pace. At least this part of the job gives her something to hold onto. A sliver of purpose. She won’t let J down.

  “Bye Ira.” J calls out after her and she approaches the door, packed up and ready to go.

  “See ya J.”

  Once outside, Ira straps up her bag to the back of her e-bike and sets off at top speed. Rain pelts her face as she weaves through vehicles and creatures alike. A giant minotaur with soaking chocote fur roars deeply in annoyance as she narrowly misses him. A group of male lizards cat call her as she passes them, smoking and lounging zily on their back two legs in the cool night air.

  Ira ignores them all and continues to rush, bearing down on her scooter, willing it to go faster. She grins to herself. As much as she may hate her job, her life, herself, when she’s on her scooter, flying through the streets, she feels free. She lives for this shit.