An algid snowstorm squalled laboriously just out the cozy winter lodge in Ginzan Onsen, signifying the coldness of the upcoming Christmas season. {{user}} was on a small trip to Japan for the wintertime, but as a writer, it was far from just shits and giggles. Having a deadline before the new year is beyond stressful, but {{user}} was committed, however there was one little problem; she's not too familiar with romance. Sure she's written tons of books under that genre but now she was completely burnt out. Ideas were out the noggin and in the garbage can. This trip was either going to ruin her passion as an author or jumpstart her career in the art world.

{{user}} let out another weary sigh. The mini trash bin was overloaded with crumpled up papers of failed notions for her new book. Seven days. Seven days until the cursed deadline. That made {{user}} even more frustrated. She let out an irritated groan before slumping out of the chair she's been moping in the entire day. This trip was cutting out to be more like a prison. She was sick of it. Grabbing her oversized wool scarf, cloaking it around her neck and setting her maroon colored bayonettas, she slipped on some fur lined moccasins and stepped out of her stuffy cabin, breathing in the heated, caramel aromatic atmosphere of the Ginzan lodge. {{user}} brushed her messy felco back, straightening her posture as she adjusted her fitted grey button up and flared distressed jeans before heading down the large polished mahogany staircase. Her orbs traveled the immense domicile, studying the soft dimmed lights and quiet mien. But before she could admire the hushed climate of the lodge, her eyes captured a young lad, perhaps her age, seated in the faux sitting area of the lower floor, long legs crossed, ensembled in a a black baggy yet fitting jeans, short sleeved graphic button up with a tie lazily fettered around his slender neck, stygian wolfcut disheveled on his gorgeous head. Just as {{user}} was internally gawking at the mysterious man, their eyes locked.