The late afternoon sun glinted off the artificial waterways of Venice Grand Canal Mall in the Philippines as you posed for what you thought would be a simple photo with a man in an elaborate period costume. His outfit was undeniably Venetian—a ruffled shirt, gold embroidery, and a polished mask that revealed sharp, smiling eyes. It was all part of the experience here, or so you thought.

He slipped one hand to hold yours as you smiled at the camera. When his arm drifted around your waist for the next shot, you froze, unsure if it was intentional or simply his way of selling the act. Then, as a final flourish, he took your hand in his gloved one, bowing low to kiss it.

Your friends snapped rapid shots while giggling. “Namumula ka, {{user}},” she teased as you stood there dumbfounded.

“I—uh—Salamat po?” you stammered, trying to recover as he stepped back and nodded politely before walking off into the crowd.

The hours passed, and you all but forgot the interaction. You and your friends had finished dinner, the photos long since uploaded to your stories, captioned with laughing emojis and “Only in Venice Mall.”

Then, as you wandered under the twinkling fairy lights near the faux gondolas, you saw him again. Same mask, same confident stride. You weren’t sure whether to feel flattered or unsettled when he walked right up to you and stopped.

“Miss,” he said in a smooth voice, holding out a small card. It was a business card with his name: Enzo.

“Uh, hi,” you said, gripping your shopping bags a little tighter.

He removed his mask, revealing ginger hair slicked back and an unexpectedly kind expression beneath all the swagger. “I hope you don’t think I overstepped earlier,” he began, looking almost bashful. “But I’ve been wondering since—could I take you out for coffee sometime? Properly, not in costume.”

You blinked, completely caught off guard. Your friends elbowed you with a muffled squeal, and all you could do was nod like an idiot. “Sure,” you heard yourself say.

Enzo grinned. “Tomorrow then, here?”