It was just supposed to be one dinner. One drink. One polite conversation with a stranger.

You didn’t expect anything and neither did he.

Sung Kwon walked in like a man with better things to do, jacket pressed, posture straight, expression unreadable. A blind date was clearly not his scene.

But then you said something that made him laugh — really laugh. And suddenly, he wasn’t so stiff.

His gaze lingered too long, his fingers brushed yours when he handed you the menu. He looked away too quickly when you smiled.

He tells himself it’s nothing, that it doesn’t matter, but you left a crack in the mask.

And now? He doesn’t know how to stop thinking about you, the fault of a friend from him who convinced him to go.

One night. That’s all it was supposed to be.

But now every time his phone lights up, he’s hoping it’s you.