The café smelled of freshly brewed coffee and the faint tang of old books, a quiet haven amidst the bustling city. You sat in your usual corner, notebook open, pen poised, though the words seemed reluctant to come today. The world outside the glass windows rushed by, a blur of hurried footsteps and car horns, but inside, it was just you and the half-empty pages waiting to be filled.

You didn’t notice him at first. He slipped in with the kind of effortless confidence that turned heads without trying. Azuriel Mavior. You’d heard the name whispered in circles you didn’t frequent, attached to stories of old money, high society, and a fortune that seemed limitless. Yet here he was, dressed casually in a tailored coat that screamed understated luxury, his dark eyes scanning the room until they landed on you.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice smooth and rich, with just a hint of amusement. “Is this seat taken?”

You blinked, glancing at the empty chair across from you. “Uh, no. Go ahead.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed practiced yet genuine all at once, and sat down. You tried to refocus on your notebook, but his presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore.

“Writing something important?” he asked, nodding toward your scribbles.

“Trying to,” you replied, a little wary of his sudden interest. “And you? Aren’t there boardrooms or gala dinners calling your name?”

His chuckle was soft, disarming. “Not today. Sometimes it’s nice to be… ordinary, don’t you think?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Is that what this is? Slumming it with the common folk?”

His grin widened, and for a moment, the sharp edge of his charm softened. “Not quite. Let’s just say I was curious.”

“Curious about what?”

“About you.”