Chapter complete
You finished Ch.11 of Dead Hours. Nice roost to rest at.
Be the first to rate
Sign in to rate this series.
You've reached the end of this series — it's all caught up. Follow it to hear when new chapters land.
Text Version A written companion to this chapter — for accessibility, screen readers, and search.
A night-shift nurse just wants a coffee, but her loyalty card is one point short of a free one. Kaito — physically unable to let a near-miss stand — spirals into engineering absurd micro-purchases to farm that single missing point, each one costing more than the coffee itself, while Rin films the math getting worse. He finally hits 1,000 points in triumph... and the coffee machine is empty. He hand-brews a fresh pot; the nurse's shift alarm goes off and she bolts, leaving the hard-won coffee untouched on the counter. Rin's stream wins. Kaito gets nothing.
Page 1
Scene: The quiet interior of a 24-hour convenience store deep in the night, fluorescent lights humming, an empty street visible through the front windows. A night-shift nurse in rumpled scrubs, hair in a messy bun and a tote bag on her shoulder, walks toward the register holding a travel coffee cup. Behind the counter stands Kaito (name tag KAITO), deadpan and tired. Rin (name tag RIN) leans nearby, scrolling her phone, bored. NURSE: Just the coffee.
Page 2
Panel 1: Over Kaito's shoulder as he scans the nurse's small loyalty points card at the register, deadpan focus. The nurse waits across the counter. Panel 2: Close on the card reader in Kaito's hand — the points total reads 999. KAITO: Nine ninety-nine. Panel 3: Extreme close-up on Kaito's tired eyes going wide and still, the near-miss dread setting in, a bead of sweat. KAITO: One point short. Panel 4: The nurse blinks, mildly confused, glancing at her watch as her tote bag slips off her shoulder.
Page 3
Panel 1: The nurse gives a tired, polite smile and reaches for her wallet, ready to just pay and leave. NURSE: It's fine, I'll just pay. Panel 2: Sharp cut to Kaito, dead serious, one flat hand raised to stop her, absolutely resolute. KAITO: No. Panel 3: In the foreground Rin slowly raises her phone to film, half-lidded eyes, a tiny smirk forming as she senses content. Panel 4: The nurse frozen mid-reach, wallet half out, staring at Kaito with polite bewilderment.
Page 4
Full-page splash: A dramatic low-angle heroic close-up on Kaito (name tag KAITO) behind the counter, his tired eyes now blazing with absurd determination, dramatic speed lines radiating behind him. He points one finger up as if declaring a mission. KAITO: We can fix this.
Page 5
Panel 1: Kaito triumphantly places a single tiny piece of candy on the counter, deadpan, presenting it like a solution. Panel 2: Kaito slides the tiny candy toward the confused nurse, utterly serious. KAITO: Buy this. One point. Panel 3: The nurse hesitantly buys the candy, tired, going along with it just to move things along. Panel 4: Close on Kaito staring at the card reader in deadpan horror — the points didn't tick up, they rounded down. A sweat drop. KAITO: ...Still ninety-nine.
Page 6
Panel 1: Rin films in the foreground, half-lidded and unbothered, quietly doing the math, one eyebrow slightly up. Panel 2: Close on Rin, deadpan over her phone, flatly narrating to her stream. RIN: Coffee's a buck fifty. Panel 3: Rin pans her phone toward the growing pile of tiny purchases on the counter. RIN: He's spent four bucks. Panel 4: In the background Kaito, oblivious to the math, intensely scans another small item, tunnel-visioned.
Page 7
Panel 1: Kaito rings up a pack of gum with grim focus, deadpan, adding it to the pile. Panel 2: Kaito rings up a single battery, sweat on his brow, deadly serious, the pile growing. Panel 3: Kaito holds up a single rolled sock from the store's odd inventory, presenting it to the baffled nurse with deadpan determination. KAITO: Almost there. Panel 4: The nurse stares at the sock, mouth slightly open, in deeply tired confusion.
Page 8
Panel 1: The nurse checks her wristwatch, shoulders sagging, her travel mug dangling from one finger, visibly running out of patience and time. Panel 2: The nurse leans against the counter with her eyes closed for a second, exhausted, tote bag drooping. Panel 3: Rin films steadily, deadpan with a tiny smirk, thoroughly entertained by the spiral. RIN: Chat's invested. Panel 4: Kaito's hands move fast across the register, a blur of grim micro-transactions, deadpan sweat.
Page 9
Full-page splash: A dramatic overhead shot looking straight down at the register counter, completely buried under a ridiculous mountain of tiny sacrificial purchases — candies, gum packs, batteries, a rolled sock, and small odds and ends scattered everywhere. Kaito's hand and the nurse's travel mug are visible at the edges of the pile. CAPTION (bubble): For one point.
Page 10
Panel 1: Kaito behind the register raises both fists slightly, tired eyes shining with absurd triumph, the faintest deadpan smile and a single victorious tear, the card reader in his hand showing a round thousand. KAITO: One thousand. Panel 2: Rin, deadpan over her filming phone, flatly announces the milestone with a tiny smirk while the tired nurse perks up hopefully beside her. RIN: Free coffee unlocked.
Page 11
Panel 1: Kaito stands at the coffee machine holding an empty mug under it. The pot is completely empty and bone dry, a faint wisp of steam rising, as his tired face collapses into deadpan despair. KAITO: ...It's empty. Panel 2: The nurse's face goes completely flat and dead-eyed, her patience finally gone, staring into the middle distance.
Page 12
Panel 1: Kaito grimly and ceremonially brews a fresh pot of coffee by hand, sleeves pushed up, deadpan intensity, like a sacred ritual. Panel 2: Rin films, deadpan delight and a tiny smirk, thoroughly enjoying the escalation. RIN: He's brewing it himself. Panel 3: The nurse waits, holding out the empty travel mug, swaying slightly with exhaustion, eyes half closed. Panel 4: Close on the coffee dripping into the pot, agonizingly slow, one drop at a time.
Page 13
Panel 1: Kaito finally, reverently pours the fresh hot coffee into the nurse's travel mug, deadpan relief, steam rising. Panel 2: The nurse's phone lights up with an alarm — a shift-start alert — and her eyes snap open. Panel 3: The nurse spins toward the door, apologetic, hurrying out empty-handed and leaving the mug behind. NURSE: That's my shift. Sorry! Panel 4: Kaito stands frozen, holding the full steaming mug she left on the counter, deadpan devastation dawning.
Page 14
Full-page splash, mirroring the opening establishing shot as a callback: The quiet store at dawn, fluorescent lights on, faint dawn light through the windows. The register counter is still buried in an absurd pile of tiny purchases. Kaito (name tag KAITO) stands alone behind the counter, holding the nurse's full, untouched, steaming stainless-steel travel mug — the one she left behind — and staring at it in hollow deadpan defeat. Rin (name tag RIN) leans beside him, lowering her phone with a tiny satisfied smirk. RIN: Worth it.