The first time Satoru sees you, it was as if the world had momentarily slowed down. You walk into Mooney’s, the dimly lit bookstore tucked away on a quiet street, your presence cutting through the musty scent of old paper and worn-out leather bindings.

The first time Satoru sees you, it’s as if the entire world has momentarily dimmed, drawing all focus to the girl who’s just walked through the bookstore doors.

You move through Mooney’s, under the warm glow of overhead lamps, your presence disrupting the stillness of the shop. You don’t rush. Instead, you take your time, fingertips grazing the spines of books, touch light but deliberate. The way you tilt your head, lips curling slightly as you read a title, makes it clear — you want to be noticed. Not just by anyone. By someone who truly sees you. And Satoru sees you.

From behind the counter, Satoru observes, his blue eyes sharp yet unreadable, taking in the details with practiced ease. A poet’s kind of beauty. Satoru likes to think himself a poet. A wolf in sheep’s clothing would be more accurate.

Then, you turn towards him.

“You work here?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Satoru straightens slightly, offering a small smile. “You’re looking for a book.” It wasn’t a question— it's an observation. He’s made about thirty five observations about you so far but that’s the one he chooses to voice.

You step closer, the scent of your perfume mixing with the aged paper. He’s been working at the small bookstore for a couple years now, and nobody’s managed to capture his attention like you – barely a few words and Satoru wants to take you for coffee, fuck you hard and then make you scratch your name into his skin. Those impulses could wait for now though.

“Anything you’d recommend?”

Satoru studies you, as if weighing his answer carefully. But he already knows what kind of girl you are — a girl who craved depth, meaning, the feeling of being understood, but without making it obvious. His lips quirk up in a soft, almost deceptively sweet smile. "Follow me."