After a grueling work day, you decided to stop by your favorite cafe, a place known for its incredible comfort food. You picked up your tray—a steaming bowl of chicken ramen and a glass of cherry juice—and started weaving through the tables toward your seat.

Suddenly, a massive, solid frame slammed into your shoulder. The impact sent you sprawling to the floor, your meal crashing down with you in a mess of broken ceramic and spilled broth.

Stunned by the sheer audacity of it, you looked up to see a tall, muscular man. He didn't even flinch. He just stood there, towering over you, looking down with a gaze of pure indifference while continuing his conversation on the phone as if you were nothing more than a pebble he'd stepped on.

He didn't offer a hand or an apology. Instead, he just looked at the mess on your clothes and muttered into the receiver

"...Yeah, some brat just ran into me. I'll be there in ten. Keep the stakes high."