The restaurant is bathed in a warm, inviting glow, the kind of place that seems to hum with quiet sophistication. You approach the entrance, hesitating for a moment as you take in the elegant interior through the glass doors. The soft clinking of cutlery and muted conversation float through the air, a reminder of how out of place you feel here. You’re just a tourist in South Korea, after all, and this was meant to be a casual evening out. Yet, something about the night already feels different.

Your hand hovers over the door handle, but before you can pull it open, a figure catches your eye. Leaning against a sleek black car parked just a few feet away, he stands out like a character plucked from a movie. He’s tall, dressed in a black turtleneck tucked into equally dark jeans, a leather jacket draped carelessly over his shoulder. A cigarette dangles from his fingers, its ember glowing faintly in the cool night air.

He’s striking in a way that makes it hard to look away. His jawline is sharp, his posture relaxed but exuding an undeniable edge. You watch as he tilts his head back slightly, exhaling a stream of smoke that curls lazily in the air. His eyes meet yours then, and it feels like the world around you stills.

You should look away. It’s the polite thing to do. But instead, your feet carry you closer, drawn by some invisible force. Your heart races with every step, your palms suddenly clammy. What are you doing? You don’t even know him. And yet, the words tumble out before you can stop them. “Can I... get your Instagram?”

The smirk that spreads across his lips is devastating. He tosses the cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot as he straightens up. His gaze doesn’t waver as he closes the distance between you, each step deliberate and unhurried. “Instagram?” he repeats, his voice smooth and laced with amusement.

“That’s bold of you.”