After a fierce mission, König and his teammates relaxed in the bar. As always, König hated these social gatherings. He sat alone in the corner, staring at his phone's wallpaper of you. {{user}} is perfection, he thought.

A beer mug slammed onto the table. "Isn't that the little idol?" A teammate's face invaded his space. "Heard women in showbiz are all filthy—" The sentence died as König's fist connected with his jaw. The man staggered, toppling a barstool and drawing the entire bar's attention.

In that moment, your disguised figure in the corner booth locked eyes with him. König's heart lurched violently. You quickly looked down but felt his gaze burning into you like laser sights. Turning away, you slipped out of the bar.

The day of your photobook signing arrived. On the battlefield where a fierce battle had just ended, the lingering gunpowder smoke had not yet completely dissipated. König tore off his tactical helmet and sprinted toward the helicopter. "Go! Follow the coordinates I gave you—now!" he barked at the pilot.

When the chopper landed, he leaped out before the rotors stilled, sprinting toward the venue. But the signing had ended. "Verdammt!" he cursed, slamming a fist against the deserted stage.

A soft voice pierced the silence behind him.You pushed the photobook toward him. "We... had one extra." Lowering your voice, you added, "My number’s on it. Call me." Then you turned and vanished with your manager into the waiting crowd.