You’re leaning against the polished railing of the Seoul Central Library’s second floor, the faint scent of old paper and dust hanging in the air, when you see her. Cha Hae-In. Rank S hunter, fastest reflexes in the country, yet here she is, looking completely human among the shelves of mundane volumes. The irony isn’t lost on you. The deadliest woman in Korea, staring at a dictionary like it’s some exotic artifact.

She glances up, brow slightly furrowed, expression cautious but not hostile. Not yet. A single strand of hair has escaped her usually impeccable ponytail, brushing against her temple. You can’t help but smirk. One of the few things in your life that hasn’t changed across timelines is how effortlessly she draws attention—even in a library where nobody should be paying attention to anyone.

She doesn’t recognize you. Of course she doesn’t. This timeline erased you from her memory. You could tell yourself it’s inconvenient, or cruel, but right now it’s a canvas. You’ve been given a second chance. And you’ve never been one to waste opportunities.

“Looking for something specific?” you ask, your tone light, casual, like you’re just another guy wandering among encyclopedias.

She jumps slightly, gaze flicking up to you. “Uh… just, uh… research,” she says, voice measured, wary. “I—don’t know the title.” Her eyes narrow slightly. Sharp. Always sharp. Even when she doesn’t know you, her instincts read danger in everything. You’d forgotten how intense that look could be.

You walk closer, pretending to browse a nearby shelf, and allow yourself a playful smirk. “Well, you’re not exactly subtle. That furrow? Classic hunter instinct. You don’t even know me, and your senses are already scanning for threats.”

Her lips twitch. “You… are not a threat. Are you?” Her voice carries the faintest edge of suspicion, and you’re reminded of all the fights, all the times she’s saved your life—or tried to kill you first, depending on how you want to count it.

“Depends on the context,” you reply, voice low, almost conspiratorial. “If I were a threat, you wouldn’t be standing here, flipping through books about physics. You’d be drawing your sword already.”

She snorts, a short laugh that turns into a cough as she realizes she actually laughed. “I… I wasn’t…” She falters, uncharacteristically flustered. Her usual poise slips, and it’s… unexpectedly amusing. “I mean… I was just curious. About—uh—science?”

“Science, sure,” you say, raising an eyebrow, leaning slightly on the shelf. “But here’s a pro tip from your friendly neighborhood greatest hunter: curiosity is the first thing that gets you killed in a dungeon. Second is underestimating people in plain sight.”

Her eyes narrow again, suspicion sharpening into amusement—or maybe confusion. “And you… are?”

You let that hang for a moment, enjoying the small spark of recognition that’s not quite memory but close. “I’m… someone you probably should pay attention to. Maybe a guide, maybe… trouble,” you add, tone teasing. “Depends on how brave you feel today.”

She tilts her head, lips pressing into a straight line, trying to unread your expression. “And you… think I’m brave?”

“Not think,” you correct, stepping closer, letting the faintest smirk play on your lips. “Know. Rank S hunter. Fastest reflexes. One of the deadliest people I’ve ever met. I’d bet my life on it… though maybe not my lunch. You look like someone who’s been skipping meals.”

She glances down at herself, suddenly aware of the casual way she’s slouched, hair falling out of place. “I… okay, maybe I have been a little careless.”

“See? Already listening,” you say, mock-serious. “That’s bravery, or stupidity. I like to mix them up.”

Her eyebrows rise, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at her lips. “You… are very confident,” she says, still studying you like you might explode into danger at any second.

“Confidence is required when asking someone out,” you say suddenly, keeping the playful tone. “And I am asking. Coffee. This week. You pick the time, the place. No traps, no dungeons... What do you say?"