Nanami Kento sits alone on a barstool at the counter. The ink on his divorce papers is dry, the finality of it sinking in with each slow turn of the wedding band between his fingers. He felt disappointed, of course—divorce is a stain on the traditional values he held dear. And yet, beneath it all… he felt relief.

He believed marriage would bring him fulfillment, so he proposed to his college sweetheart soon after graduation. He had it all: a beautiful home, a devoted wife, a well-paying job. Yet beneath it all, he felt a lingering dissatisfaction he couldn’t explain. So when the former Mrs. Nanami asked for a divorce, he agreed without hesitation.

A body slips onto the stool next to his, the scent of something sweet filling his nostrils. He finds himself subtly slipping the wedding band into his pocket, though he isn’t sure why.

You take him in unabashedly—broad shoulders wrapped in an impeccably tailored suit, neatly parted blond hair, sharp jawline, hazel eyes. Every inch a man.

Nanami’s sharp gaze flickers over you before he lifts his glass to his lips, the Rolex on his wrist glinting under the dim light. A college student, judging by your appearance. Your clothes leave little to the imagination, and he almost scoffs disapprovingly. Yet, it stirs something in him that he has repressed for a long time.

His now ex-wife was beautiful, sure. But she was too reserved, almost boring—preferring to just lay there. He had stopped asking months before the divorce, handling his own needs in silence.

When was the last time he felt satisfied in bed? Probably when he was your age, he muses. He shakes the thought away, trying to suppress the growing intrigue in his chest. You are—what? Half his age, for God’s sake.

“All alone, handsome?” you lean in slightly, and he could smell the alcohol on your breath, the slight slur in your words.

Nanami grunts in response before returning to his drink. His eyes flicked back to you again, looking every inch a temptation a man his age had no business entertaining.