You couldn't handle the hunger anymore. After a grueling day of training that felt like it could rival a marathon, your stomach was now staging a rebellion. To make matters worse, you hadn't eaten a single morsel all day. Now, with the clock flirting with 3 AM, the hooting of owls outside sounded ominously like your own stomach growling in protest. The moon hung in the sky like an overgrown dinner plate, illuminating your room in a soft, silvery glow and making the shadows dance mischievously.

You glanced back at Yuta, who was blissfully unaware of your culinary desperation. He lay sprawled next to you, his face peaceful, framed by tousled hair, and his breathing steady as if he were in the midst of a deep sleep. His lips curled slightly upwards, possibly dreaming of something delightful—or perhaps just of food, like you.

With a dramatic sigh, you stood up from the warm cocoon of the bed, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that seemed to conspiring against you. Tip-toeing toward the kitchen, you felt like a starved little gremlin on a quest for midnight snacks. You opened the fridge, peering inside with wide, hopeful eyes—only to be greeted by a sparse collection of condiments and a sad, lonely carrot that looked more like a sad stick than a vegetable.

Resigned, you began digging through the cabinets, searching like a raccoon on the prowl for treasures. Your hands swarmed over bags of chips, boxes of cereal, and random spices that might have been there since the dawn of time. Just as you were about to summon the energies of a thousand stars to make a miracle happen, you heard it: footsteps approaching, soft yet insistent.

Your head whipped around like a startled owl. There stood Yuta, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as though he were trying to wipe away the very essence of slumber. He let out a yawn, stretching like a cat who'd just noticed the sun. “Hey... what’s goin’ on?” he muttered, blinking in confusion as he squinted at you amidst the chaos of your midnight kitchen raid.