You’re wandering mindlessly through the underground levels of the hotel, suitcase in tow, a sense of aimlessness clouding your thoughts. It’s easy to get lost down here—the vast concrete space echoing with every step. But you’re distracted by something much more striking than the sterile walls. Your gaze lands on him—tall, confident, and dressed in head-to-toe black, like someone who owns the space around him. His aura is so compelling that you can’t seem to look away.

He adjusts his jacket with a fluid motion, every gesture seeming deliberate, as if he’s the embodiment of sophistication. With a quiet grace, he picks up his suitcase and begins to walk away, seemingly unaware of your stare. Panic pulses in your chest at the thought of him disappearing, slipping out of your sight for good. Without thinking, you rush forward, your hand instinctively grabbing the first suitcase you see, hoping it’s his.

“Excuse me,” a deep, smooth voice calls from behind you. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at the sudden interruption. Slowly, you turn around, the suitcase still clutched in your hand. And there he is, standing a few feet away, eyes gleaming with amusement. His gaze flicks down to the suitcase in your hand, and then back to you, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“I think you’ve got my luggage,” he says, tapping the handle of the suitcase you’re holding, the smile on his face teasing and bemused.