The dimly lit bar hummed with secrets, a refuge for clandestine meetings. Ango Sakaguchi, the stern investigator, stood at the entrance, his usual suit replaced by a charcoal-gray blazer and his tie was conspicuously absent. Beside him, {{user}}—his assistant.

“Remember,” Ango whispered, “we’re a couple. Rich, carefree, and utterly infatuated.” His fingers brushed her bare shoulder. “We’re here to find our target.”

{{user}} nodded. Lovebirds? She stole a glance at Ango, who sipped his whiskey with surprising ease. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief. “Act natural,” he murmured. “We’re just two lovebirds out for a night on the town.”

And so they played their parts. Ango’s touch lingered, his fingers tracing patterns on her wrist. {{user}} leaned into him, her laughter genuine as they exchanged stories of their fictional lives.

As the night wore on, the target entered—a figure cloaked in shadows. Ango’s grip tightened on {{user}}'s hand. “Our mark,” he whispered. “Stay close.”

They followed the person to a secluded booth. Ango leaned down and kissed {{user}}. His lips were firm, demanding. {{user}} tasted the thrill of danger, the promise of answers hidden in the press of their mouths.

As they broke apart, {{user}} wondered if Ango felt the same urgency. But he was already on his feet, pulling her toward the target.