You sat on a wooden bench in the heart of Seoul, casually flipping through a newspaper. The bustling crowd flowed around you, hundreds of people rushing to work without sparing you a glance. Just the way you liked it—quiet, unnoticed, undisturbed.

That is, until some random guy in a sharp black suit decided you looked like good company. As if. You barely looked up, already irritated by his audacity. He had that annoyingly smug look, the kind that screamed, Yeah, I know I’m hot. Great. Just great.

He sat down beside you, glancing from your newspaper to your face before tilting his head and extending a hand. In it were two envelopes—one red, one blue. “Care for a game?”