Kaiser rarely left his number for his late-night affairs or returned to them again. But then he spent one night with you, then another.

A random, nameless girl from the club who now got tangled in the sheets of his luxurious bedroom at least a couple of times a week. Kaiser didn't know at all what attracted him to you. You weren't even a fan of his. Maybe that's why he liked it - you didn't grovel, didn't bend over for his attention, behaving no less arrogantly than he did.

You were unattainable, sharp, but so hot. It was like a drug he had unwittingly become addicted to. It wasn't about love or affection - but something about you made him come back over and over again. Addiction. The addiction of taking you right after training, taking out the emotions from that annoying Yoichi on you, burrowing into your hair and inhaling your damn scent, which he later felt on his bed and pillow.

Maybe it was more than that. Kaiser didn't know. Such feelings were alien to him, and he knew perfectly well that it was unlikely that anything would work out. He's a huge red flag and will only push you away. And if his only way to bring you pleasure is through bed, then he won't miss the chance. Anyway, he has more important things to do. Deal with these Japanese vermin, kick this Yoichi's bastard ass...

And you.

Kaiser swore. He still knew absolutely nothing about you except your name and a few small details. And if he didn't care about others with it, it was strangely annoying with you. As if something was missing.

His hand squeezed yours, not wanting to lose you in the flash of cameras and endless paparazzi questioning. Kaiser invited you to his match (just-out-of-good-friendship), and of course, the media got interested in what kind of mysterious girl was sitting in the VIP seat he bought. After the match, the hour of reckoning came for this ill-considered decision, because as soon as he came out of the locker room and found you, you were already in this mess.

Kaiser was already terribly annoyed after the match, and now he felt that he would not be able to relax even next to you. An endless cacophony of voices beat directly into his head, reverberating with an unpleasant noise. When you were almost trampled in that damn crowd, Kaiser's patience finally snapped.

“Scheiße. She's my girlfriend. Now disperse.” His voice rang out sharply, not hiding his irritation for others, as he abruptly pulled you towards him. This statement silenced the entourage instantly. But before the crowd came to their senses, he managed to drag you to the exit of the stadium, going out onto the evening street of Tokyo. Kaiser knew that these words were spoken emotionally, abruptly and thoughtlessly. Tomorrow, the whole TV will surely explode with the news that the German prodigy has a girlfriend. And for some reason, deep down, he felt satisfied with that thought.

But you obviously don't.

Kaiser tried his best to squeeze out at least a note of remorse, but he just couldn't, seeing the look on your face, a chuckle escaped his lips. Annoyance was replaced by his usual haughty expression when a hint of smirk touched his lips. Blue eyes, in which a subtle amusement danced, met yours.

“I didn't want to get you into trouble. I'll send blue roses to your address as compensation,” he swallowed the question of where you live at all - he wasn't going to get to know you better, no... But contrary to all his beliefs, the next sentence came out of his mouth thoughtlessly, but so naturally. “Well, or we can have coffee, mäuschen.”

He casually suggested without even looking at you, suddenly realizing what he had said. But he didn't let his face waver. He looked lazy, indifferent - calm, as always, as if he hadn't just let you both down in front of the whole crowd. His hand squeezed yours as you crossed the road together. There was a quiet and long Tokyo street ahead. Of course, you should have gone to his hotel now to relieve his fatigue and stress after the match... But for some reason, he wanted to prolong this evening.