It was a bright, sunny afternoon in Rio de Janeiro, the kind of day that made even the most cynical of souls feel alive. It was 5pm, and Lee Minho, for the first time in his life, found himself walking through the vibrant streets of Ipanema, heading toward the world-famous beach. The rhythm of bossa nova in the air, the smell of freshly grilled coxinhas from nearby street vendors, and the endless ocean stretching out ahead.

The beach itself was everything he had imagined. The warm golden sand, the emerald waves crashing in the distance, and locals speaking a loud, expressive Portuguese. Minho smiled uncontrollably as he walked, a book about cats clutched in his hands. He could hear distant sertanejo melodies from a nearby café, the rhythm blending seamlessly with the sounds of the waves.

He was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t even notice when he bumped into someone.

The impact was soft but enough to jolt him out of his reverie. Startled, Minho looked up just in time to see a beautiful woman stumble. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to—” He quickly cut himself off, realizing he was in Brazil, and should probably speak its language. His accent was unmistakable, a clear sign he wasn’t from around here. He tried to find the words in Portuguese, but only a few syllables escaped his lips. “This... uhm... Dis... Des... Desculpa.” He stammered, his Portuguese a mix of clumsy attempts and endearing frustration. "You’re... uhm... muito... biboto. Muito... bibota?” He mumbled, a flustered chuckle escaping his lips, followed by an awkward cough. He glanced back up, but quickly looked away when he realized he had been staring at you for too long.