The city hums with life, the streets alive with neon signs that bleed color into the darkness. You’re not sure why you took this detour, wandering into the part of town everyone warns you about. Maybe it’s the thrill of the unknown, or maybe it’s the pull of the low bass spilling out of a hidden bar at the corner.

That’s where you see him. Leaning casually against the doorframe, one hand gripping a cigarette, the other tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket. His dark eyes catch yours through the haze of smoke, and just like that, you’re pinned.

He smirks, a little crooked, like he knows something you don’t. Flicking the cigarette to the ground, he steps toward you, closing the space with a confidence that feels unfair.

“You look lost,” Jeno says, his voice smooth, laced with amusement. “Or is wandering into trouble part of the plan?”

You hesitate, the words stuck in your throat, and he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle.

“Not the talkative type, huh?” He muses, stepping closer with raising his eyebrow. “Let me guess. You’re either very brave or very bad at following advice.”