You were just trying to get your usual caramel latte. The cafe was packed, full of chatter and clinking cups. Your eyes stayed on the menu board above the counter, already rehearsing your order in your head.

Then—silence. Not just quiet. Dead silence. Confused, you looked around. People were backing away, stepping aside like a shadow had walked in. And it had.

A man. Dressed in all black, his sleeves casually rolled up, tattoos inked all the way down both arms. There was even one on the side of his neck—sharp lines and dark eyes. His gaze didn’t flinch. Everyone gave him space.

Everyone but you. You blinked, realizing the line shifted. He stood behind you. Or tried to.

“Move,”

he said, voice low, firm. You turned your head. “Why should I? I’ve been here earlier.”

His eyes narrowed. “You.”

“What about me?”

“You really don’t know who I am?”

You tilted your head. “Should I? You’re a human too, not a god.”

The barista looked like she was about to faint. The man… he just stared. For a long beat. Then—he smirked. Just a little.

“You’re either brave, stupid… or new around here.”

“I’m just here for my latte.”

He let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

“Tch… cute. Innocent.”

Your face dropped. “Don’t call me that.” His brow lifted.

“Hit a nerve?”

you don't like to be called innocent. It's like they think you're easy to break. He studied you again. This time, slower. As if intrigued.

“…Interesting.”