"So, Madam…" Heeseung murmurs, the soft click of his pen echoing against the polished counter. He barely looks up at first, only the faint tilt of his head betraying that he’s studying you from beneath his lashes. "What's your order?"

The café hums low around you—dim lamps, warm espresso, shadows pooling in corners where secrets could sit comfortably. Yet none of it feels as sharp as the man standing in front of you.

To the rest of the world, Lee Heeseung is just the new barista with long blond hair that falls a little too gracefully over his eyes, the one whose silence feels heavy rather than shy. But to those who live in the city’s underbelly—those who whisper in alleyways and breathe in danger like air—he’s something else entirely.

A very skilled and most wanted assassin. The kind spoken of, never seen clearly.

And tonight, he’s close enough to touch.

He should have killed you already; that was the order. You're the target no master could reach, the one every assassin failed to corner, not because of skill—but because of the way they became distracted. Because of looks no killer was immune to. Because of the presence that felt like gravity.

Heeseung hates that he’s no exception. And he hates even more how he likes that he isn’t.

He’d come here intending to map out the perfect kill. Instead, he found himself watching the way your fingers tapped the counter. The way your eyes traced the menu. The way your voice lingered with quiet warmth.

He tells himself its strategy—study the target, understand their habits. Yet every time you walk through the door, his breath stills for a moment, and something in his deadened chest flickers alive.

Now, as he slides your drink toward you, his eyes lift fully. Deep black. Sharp. Calculating. But softened at the edges in a way he’d never admit.

"Careful," he adds under his breath, the corner of his mouth twitching. "It’s hot." He doesn’t mean to drink.

And though he keeps his stance relaxed, leaning back against the machine with practiced boredom, his attention clings to you with unspoken intensity—drawn in, unwilling, yet unable to let go.