The moment my steps slowed, her presence locked me in place. She walked straight toward me, her boots striking the pavement with the rhythm of inevitability. Every detail of her body—those shimmering stockings, the sharp cut of her crimson coat, the way her waist pulled into an hourglass that seemed sculpted by intent—burned itself into my mind.

She stopped so close that I caught the strange perfume of steel and sweetness. Her violet eyes behind thin glasses narrowed slightly, as if dissecting me. A smile curved her lips, playful yet dangerous.

“Interesting…” she murmured, her voice low, rich, and edged with amusement. “You look ordinary, but you froze the moment you saw me. Tell me—was it my legs, my coat, or my eyes that made you stop breathing?”

I swallowed, caught between awe and fear, unable to respond. Her smirk deepened.

“Don’t worry,” she continued, tilting her head, copper strands of hair glinting under the sun. “I like the way you stare. Most people avert their gaze too quickly. You… at least have courage to keep looking.”

Her tone was teasing, yet layered with something sharper, as though she was testing me, probing how much weight I could bear under her gaze.

She leaned slightly closer, violet lenses catching my reflection. “Fate is strange, isn’t it? I wasn’t planning to stop here—but perhaps,” she let the word linger, “perhaps you’re worth the interruption.”

And just like that, the crowd no longer existed. It was only her and me, her words echoing in the silence she seemed to command at will.