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“Night, Joe.” Same exchange, different day. At least he’d stopped trying to convince me to leave earlier. “Hot date with instant ramen tonight,” I added, trying for humor.

He chuckled, but I caught that same look Mariana had given me—that mix of pity and concern that made me feel like I was starring in my own tragic manga. Lonely Office Boy’s Midnight Adventures probably wouldn’t make the season’s top ten list.

Outside, the city buzzed with its evening rhythm—salary workers dragging themselves home while the night crowd was just warming up.

The train screeched to a halt at ten p.m. Not that I was counting, but in a subway car that smelled like broken dreams and stale desperation—a mix of defeated overtime warriors and excited club-hoppers—you tended to watch the clock.

Two guys about my age sat a few seats away, laughing over their phones. “Mom’s been calling nonstop,” one groaned, but his smile gave him away. “She’s convinced I’ll starve if she doesn’t check on me three times a day.”

“Ugh, same,” his friend replied. “Mine’s threatening to move closer to ‘take care of her baby.’ Like, Mom, I’m twenty-two!”

They continued complaining about their overprotective parents, each grievance feeling like a tiny paper cut to my heart. What I wouldn’t give for a mom who called too much, a dad who insisted on checking my apartment’s security system, anyone who’d notice if I didn’t come home one night.

Stop it , I scolded myself, pulling out my phone to scroll through anything that wasn’t social media and its parade of happy families.

This isn’t some tragic backstory in a light novel.

You’re fine. You have Mochi. You have Mr. Fluffles.

You have… well, you’ll have instant ramen once you stop by Mr. Choi’s.

The train lurched between stations, its movements as graceful as my attempts at office small talk.

My reflection in the window looked like an extra in a slice-of-life anime—tired eyes, messy hair, the general appearance of someone whose life goal had become surviving until the next yaoi manga release.

My stop arrived with all the subtlety of a shonen anime power-up sequence, complete with screeching brakes and flickering lights.

The station at this hour was its own kind of liminal space, populated by the kind of characters you’d find in the background of a supernatural BL—the dead-eyed salary workers, the stumbling partygoers, and that one guy who always looked like he was one bad day away from becoming a villain’s origin story.

The walk to Mr. Choi’s store felt longer in the dark, each shadow promising either certain doom or a chance encounter with a supernatural hottie. My overactive imagination, fueled by too many late-night yaoi reading sessions, painted possibilities in every corner.

That movement in the alley? Probably a werewolf alpha coming to claim his fated omega—it was a raccoon.

That red gleam from the broken streetlight?

Definitely vampire eyes searching for their next meal—just a reflection.

That whisper of movement behind me? A dragon shifter about to sweep me off to his magical realm—nope, just a plastic bag dancing in the wind.

Not that I’d mind being whisked away by a tall, dark, and handsome vampire lord like in Midnight Office Love Story: The Alpha CEO’s Secret , I thought, hugging my messenger bag closer. At least supernatural boyfriends probably don’t make you work overtime without pay.

“Get it together,” I muttered, speed walking in my sensible clearance sneakers. “This isn’t one of your mangas. No gorgeous supernatural alpha is going to?—”

The convenience store’s automatic doors whooshed open with way too much enthusiasm for this hour, cutting off my self-lecture.

Inside, the familiar buzz of fluorescent lights and tired pop music created that special kind of late-night ambiance that made everything feel like a scene from a budget supernatural romance, the kind where the omega protagonist meets his destined alpha soulmate between the instant noodles and the energy drinks.

“Just another lonely night shift, Luca?” Mr. Choi didn’t look up from his newspaper, probably already knowing my sad dinner selection by heart.

“Living the dream, Mr. Choi. One cup noodle at a time.”

The store’s tiny manga section called to me like a siren song.

The new volume of Claimed by the Vampire Prince: My Fated Alpha sat there in all its glossy glory, practically begging to be bought.

My bank account screamed in protest, but honestly?

After the day I’d had—after Ms. Rodriguez had claimed yet another of my ideas—I deserved some fictional romance where the omega hero actually got his happy ending with the powerful alpha prince.

Besides , I reasoned, grabbing the manga and my usual cup noodles, it’s still cheaper than therapy .

“Got the new one in just for you,” Mr. Choi said as I approached the counter, finally looking up with that grandfatherly smile that made my heart twist. “My grandson says this volume has a big confession scene. The vampire prince finally admits his feelings.”

I hugged the manga to my chest like it was made of gold. “You’re the best, Mr. Choi.”

“Ah, but manga boys can’t make real dinner,” he said, already reaching under the counter. He pulled out a container of what smelled like his wife’s legendary kimchi. “Mrs. Choi worried you’re too skinny. How will you find nice boyfriend if you’re all bones?”

And there it was again—that bittersweet ache in my chest. The Chois had been feeding me their “extras” since I’d moved into the neighborhood, probably seeing right through my polite protests. It was the closest thing to parental fussing I’d had since that rainy night.

“Mrs. Choi is an angel,” I said, my voice only slightly wobbly. The kimchi’s spicy scent reminded me of weekend dim sum with Mom, Dad trying to use chopsticks and failing spectacularly while Mom pretended not to be embarrassed by her very American husband. “But you guys really don’t have to?—”

“Family takes care of family,” he cut me off with his usual firmness. “Even convenience store family.”

Don’t cry in the convenience store. Don’t cry in the convenience store. Protagonists don’t cry over kimchi, no matter how kindly offered.

The night air hit me like a slap of reality as I left the fluorescent comfort of Mr. Choi’s store.

My messenger bag now bulged with contraband kimchi, questionable cup noodles, and enough yaoi manga to start a small library.

Or at least enough to get me through another lonely weekend of pretending I had plans beyond talking to my cat.

I tackled the last few blocks home like a video game character on low health, jumping at every shadow.

The broken streetlights flickered like something out of a horror movie, and not the kind where the omega gets saved by a hot alpha vampire.

More like the kind where the guy really should have taken that taxi.

My apartment building loomed ahead, a tired five-story walk-up that had probably been stylish back when dinosaurs roamed Manhattan.

The elevator had been “under maintenance” since before I moved in, which meant four flights of stairs with bags that felt heavier with each step.

Nothing says “living the dream” quite like climbing stairs at midnight while trying not to drop your emotional support kimchi.

“Luca? Is that you, dear?”

Mrs. Liu’s door creaked open as I wrestled with my stubborn lock. Her silver hair was perfectly coiffed even at this ungodly hour, because apparently some people actually had their life together.

“Hi, Mrs. Liu.” I attempted a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Sorry if I was noisy.”

“Always working so late.” She clicked her tongue. “Not good for young man. Need rest, need family.”

A familiar white cloud of judgment sauntered out of her apartment. Mochi, that adorable traitor, had apparently been living his best life while I sold my soul to corporate America.

“He ate all his dinner.” Mrs. Liu beamed. “Such a good boy.”

My cat gave me a look that clearly said, her dumplings don’t come from a can.

“Thank you for watching him.” Again. Like every time I worked late. Which was… well, let’s not depress ourselves with statistics.

“Come for dinner this weekend,” she insisted. “My grandchildren visiting. So much noise, so much life! Good to have family.”

The word ‘family’ hit like a sucker punch to the heart, right in that tender spot where memories of my parents lived. Where Sunday morning pancake battles and Dad’s terrible puns used to be. Where Mom’s perfume and warm hugs should still exist.

“Maybe next time,” I managed, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

Inside my apartment—all four hundred square feet of carefully organized chaos—I slumped against the door.

My small space was a testament to my determination to create comfort wherever I could find it.

The walls were adorned with anime posters in sleek black frames (because I was at least pretending to be a grown-up), and my bookshelf overflowed with manga, carefully organized by genre.

Mochi followed me in, his expectations for premium cat treats written all over his squished face. “Yes, yes, I got your favorites.” I sighed, pulling out the small bag of treats I’d grabbed at Mr. Choi’s along with my manga splurge. At least one of us should have a good night.

The microwave hummed its sad song as it transformed my ramen from brick to barely edible. Not the real Chinese noodles Mom used to make, with hand-pulled dough and secret spices, but the kind of instant comfort food that came with being too tired to even boil dumplings.

With walls thin enough to hear a neighbor’s thoughts, the sounds of Mrs. Liu’s late-night drama filtered through—complete with what sounded like an entire extended family on video call. Their laughter felt like a personal attack on my cup noodle dinner for one.

After a shower that redefined the term lukewarm , I changed into my favorite oversized lavender sleep shirt and curled up in bed with my phone and my new manga.

Mochi claimed his spot on my pillow, his purr a lonely duet with the city noise outside.

Mr. Choi’s kimchi sat in my tiny fridge like a gesture of kindness I wasn’t sure I deserved, and Mr. Fluffles watched from my desk with his usual judgy button eyes.

I cracked open Claimed by the Vampire Prince: My Fated Alpha , the fresh pages carrying that perfect new manga smell.

The omega protagonist, surrounded by his loving adopted supernatural family, was learning to control his newfound powers while juggling three impossibly gorgeous supernatural alpha suitors.

His biggest problem was choosing between the brooding vampire prince, the playful wolf shifter, and the mysterious demon lord.

“Some people have all the luck,” I whispered to Mochi, who had the audacity to look content. My eyes grew heavy as exhaustion won its nightly battle with loneliness. “Having people who notice when you’re missing. Who wait up for you. Who…” A yawn interrupted my pity party. “Who love you…”

The manga slipped from my grasp as Mochi’s warmth against my cheek became my anchor to consciousness. The pages fell open to an illustration of the omega hero surrounded by his newfound family, their supernatural world glowing with possibilities.

I wish I could find somewhere I truly belong… was my last thought before sleep claimed me completely.