The cafeteria buzzed like usual—voices bouncing off walls, trays clattering, laughter echoing from tables full of familiar faces. But it all seemed to dull the second he walked in.

You noticed him before anyone said a word. He didn’t just walk—he moved like time bent around him. Calm. Calculated. Eyes downcast, jaw set, expression unreadable. He wore all black, as if mourning something no one understood. His presence was cold, but magnetic—like a storm you wanted to run from and into at the same time.

“Who is that?” you asked, almost whispering.

Your friend followed your gaze and immediately rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s Nishimura Riki. Don’t bother.” You looked back, eyebrows raised as she continued. “He’s hot, yeah. But…he doesn’t talk to anyone. Like, ever. I tried once—dude looked right through me. They say he’s just ‘quiet’ but honestly? He gives me vampire vibes.” She laughed, brushing it off, but the word stuck with you.

You turned back again—and this time, you met his eyes.

His gaze was already on you. Locked. Cold. Deep. Like he was studying you… no, like he was trying not to study you. A flicker of something crossed his face. Not curiosity. Not interest. Fear?

And then—just like that—he looked away.