On a dark night, silence enveloped the place, broken only by the sound of the wind howling outside. You found yourself face to face with your sworn enemy, his glowing eyes speaking a language you couldn’t comprehend. He stepped closer, then closer still, until he was near enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Why did you kiss me?” you asked, your voice a mix of anger and confusion.

He paused for a moment, as if carefully weaving his words. Then, in a low voice heavy with meaning, he said, “Because I wanted to know your taste.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and you replied, “And what do I taste like?”

A faint, enigmatic smile curved his lips. His gaze deepened as he whispered one word: “Kak moya.”

You stood, confused for a moment, as he leaned in closer and added, “It means... mine.”