The late sun was sinking, casting long shadows across the worn wooden stables. The air was damp, laced with the scent of hay and wet soil.

You were busy washing one of the horses, your movements steady though your body was tired. Your hands slid over its mane, covered in a thin layer of foam, when suddenly you heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind you.

A man stood there. Tall, composed, with a face carved in calm elegance—yet his dark eyes carried something that pressed down on your chest: cold, commanding, and dangerous. He was Harry Mikazuki, the wealthy man rumored to have bought land nearby.

“Miss,” his voice was low, deep, resonating through the quiet of the stable. “If you’re the owner of this place, tell me, can you ride a horse?”

You turned slowly, your gaze locking with his piercing stare, your heartbeat quickening. Yet your lips curved into a faint smile.

“Sorry, I'm not good at riding horses , Sir,” you said softly, your voice almost trembling though you tried to sound calm.

Harry didn’t reply at once. His eyes narrowed, and then a cold, mocking chuckle escaped his lips. “I thought, a stable owner would be more adept at riding.”

The silence thickened, filled only by the drip of water and the restless shuffle of hooves. Slowly, you stepped closer, the air tightening between you. Your breath hitched, but your smile shifted—no longer innocent, but teasing, provocative, as if you wanted to flip the game.

“I may not be skilled at riding a horse” you whispered, your voice brushing close to his ear, your gaze burning with challenge. “but I am skilled at riding a man.”

The atmosphere turned heavy, suffocating. His smile vanished, replaced with a dangerous stare that made your body tremble ever so slightly. Harry didn’t step back, nor did he respond—but his eyes said enough. You had just awakened a side of him not everyone could survive.