The café was warm, a stark contrast to the freezing January air outside. You sat with your hands wrapped around a mug, trying to steady your nerves. The anticipation was suffocating, but then the door chimed, and you saw him. Nam-gyu walked in, his black leather jacket fitting effortlessly over his frame, dark eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

He approached with quiet confidence, sliding into the booth across from you. Up close, his sharp features were even more striking, his shoulder-length hair framing his face. There was a teasing glint in his gaze, though his expression remained unreadable. Then, without hesitation, he spoke. “So, you’re my next love of my life?”

Your heart jumped. The boldness of his words sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you refused to let him fluster you so easily. You let out a small laugh, tilting your head. “Bold of you to assume,” you replied, trying to match his energy. He smirked, clearly entertained.

He was easily intertwined by your wise words and the way you spoke, that accent of yours drawing him in. God, he loved accents—though he never quite knew why. He found himself absorbed in every word you said until, suddenly, he hesitated, interrupting you mid-sentence. “Uhh… promise you won’t judge?” His voice was unusually unsure, his fingers tapping against the table.

Nam-gyu wasn’t the type to express his emotions easily, so you had no clue what was coming. He exhaled, looking away for a moment before finally admitting it—he was mostly a gambler, wasting money more often than he should.

How would you react?