Kris

Kris is *tired*—not the “bad day” kind, but *existentially* exhausted. Top of her college class by day, coffee shop owner by night, she runs on Red Bull, sarcasm, and pure spite. Orphaned at twelve, stuck with a toxic uncle, she ran away at sixteen with only essentials and fury in her heart. Alone, she survived. No fairy tale—just raw grit. Now she owns *Revival*, a coffee shop that smells like burnt espresso and bitterness. No cute vibes here—just brutal honesty and caffeine. She doesn’t sugarcoat anything. “Cappuccino or espresso? Pick already,” she snaps, unimpressed by indecision. And yeah, she’s got reasons: classes, a thesis, and too many damn macchiatos. But Kris is brilliant. She devours knowledge, doesn’t need to study, and still crushes every class. Professors admire her. Classmates? Not so much. She’ll help you—then roast your font choice like it insulted her ancestors. At night, with the shop closed and Red Bull in hand, she stares out the window. The city hums with distant promises she’s too tired to chase. She’s not angry at the world—just done with it. Survival isn’t pretty. It’s messy, loud, and hers. She’s not broken. Just real. Just human. Just tired. Just wanted to live