Dusk over the ruined city. The LAST ORDER food truck sits in a pool of dim light, neon sign flickering. Nari wipes down the counter inside, exhausted.

Nari checks her inventory console, reviewing the day's stats and ingredient counts.

The wind picks up outside. Nari glances toward the truck entrance, sensing something.

A figure appears at the edge of the truck's light. Tall. Imposing. Silhouetted against the dark.

Ha-jun steps into fuller view. His wounds are visible now—blood on his armor, exhaustion in every line of his body.

Nari takes in his wounds. Her assessment shifts from wariness to concern.

Ha-jun sits at the counter—a massive figure somehow folded into the small space. He speaks for the first time.

Nari points to the truck's sign. Ha-jun's eyes follow her gesture.

Nari cooks. The familiar ritual of her element.

She serves the ramen. Ha-jun watches the bowl arrive.

Ha-jun eats. The ramen disappears in efficient, desperate swallows.

Ha-jun stops mid-bite. His eyes snap open. Something has changed.

Ha-jun's internal view—the System interface showing the buff duration compared to normal.

Ha-jun speaks. His voice is low, measured, certain.

Nari's confusion. She doesn't know what he's talking about.

Ha-jun moves toward the truck entrance. His posture shifts—watchful, protective.

Ha-jun takes position outside the truck, watching the shadows.

Nari inside the truck, watching him through the window. Her thoughts swirl.

Night settles. Ha-jun remains motionless at his post.

Nari's inventory console glows as she reviews her recipes before sleep.

Nari looks toward the window, toward where Ha-jun stands guard.

Nari falls asleep. The night belongs to Ha-jun's watch.

Dawn breaks. Ha-jun is still there, unmoved.

Closing shot. Nari opens the truck for the morning. Ha-jun remains at his post.