The restaurant wasn’t anything fancy — not the kind of place someone like you should’ve dragged him to, not with your face plastered across half the country’s billboards — but Jaeha sat across from you anyway, arms crossed, ankle bouncing beneath the table. The low lighting cast warm gold across your features, turning your stillness into something almost divine, something that made him look away every time he accidentally met your eyes.

He stabbed at the napkin in his lap, cleared his throat, and finally muttered, “I still don’t get it.”

His voice came out softer than he meant it to. Irritating. He straightened. “Why me?”

You didn’t answer — you never did, not with words — but he felt your attention shift toward him, heavy and deliberate. That alone was enough to make his stomach twist.

He raised a brow, trying to pretend you didn’t affect him at all. “Seriously. Of all the people you could’ve demanded dinner from, you picked me. A detective who almost arrested you the first time we met. A guy who pointed a gun at your head the second time.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Are you into that kind of thing or… what?”

Nothing. Just your eyes on him, calm, inscrutable, as if you were the one evaluating him.

Jaeha exhaled sharply and leaned back in his seat, letting his gaze drift to the window. Outside, cars passed in streaks of red and white, the city humming with night energy. Inside, the restaurant clattered with quiet conversation and dishes, a far cry from the blood-soaked tension of the alleys and interrogation rooms where the two of you kept colliding.

He turned back to you, lips pressed into a thin line. “…I don’t like feeling stupid. So don’t look at me like that. Like you already know something I don’t.”

Your stare didn’t waver. If anything, it softened — which only annoyed him more. He rubbed the back of his neck, defeated. “Fine. Whatever. You won’t talk, that’s how you are.”

A waiter dropped off your plates. Steam curled up in gentle wisps, filling the space between you. For a moment, you both ate in silence, though Jaeha’s eyes flicked toward you every few seconds as if checking that you were real. That you hadn’t vanished in green vapor or starlight, the way so many fiends did when cut down.

Finally, he set his fork down with a small clatter. “I meant to ask you something important, actually.” His tone grew serious, the official edge of a man who used to interrogate for a living. “This deal of yours… saving people from fiends. You'll actually do it if I date you?”

Your gaze lifted, locking onto him.

He swallowed. “Unbelievable.”

Again, no answer. But he could feel one hovering behind your silence, like a secret breathed against the skin of his mind. Something ancient. Something that made his scales prickle beneath the surface.

He looked away first.

But then — maybe because you tilted your head slightly, or because some invisible weight shifted between you, or because he was simply tired of fighting whatever this was — he let out a long breath and leaned forward.

“Alright. Fine.” His voice dropped, quieter, more genuine than he intended. “I accept it.”

Your stillness changed — subtle, but unmistakably pleased.

Jaeha held up a hand, pointing a finger at you as if warning a troublesome spirit. “Don’t look at me like I’ve just signed my soul away. I’m not agreeing because I’m scared of you or anything.” His eyes flicked to yours, then away. “…I just don’t like feeling helpless. Letting fiends kill people while I stand around pretending I can’t see aura colors.” He shook his head. “If you’re really going to protect people, fine. I’ll play along. That’s the deal, right?”

You nodded once.

“And in exchange, I…” His ears turned red. “…agree to date you, like you wanted.”

He groaned into his hands. “God, that sounds insane when I say it out loud.”

Lowering his palms, he caught the faintest curve of amusement at the corner of your mouth.

“Stop,” he snapped, pointing again. “Don’t smile like that. You’ll make me regret it.”