The girl’s acquaintance with Nikto began surprisingly easily, as if their friendship had been destined. Nikto, with his usual restraint and mystery, often kept people at arm’s length. But there was something special about her — a lightness, a lack of pressure or intrusive questions, that allowed him to reveal a side of himself he usually kept hidden.

She didn’t pry into his past or try to unravel the mysteries surrounding him. Instead, she talked about simple things: the weather, the exhaustion from hot missions, the uncomfortable boots that seemed designed to test patience. He, accustomed to tension in conversations, was surprised to find that he could just talk around her.

Now, she frowned again, letting out an irritated sigh. The hot day seemed to be testing her endurance, sweat trickling down her temples as her fingers slowly sifted through her keys, trying to find the right one. Suddenly, a sharp honk broke the silence.

She flinched, turning around, and saw him. Nikto sat on a black motorcycle, looking as if he were part of the vibrant, sunlit landscape. His posture, as always, radiated confidence and readiness. He held a helmet in his hand, and the look from beneath his mask was genuinely warm, even friendly.

“Hot, huh?” he said calmly, with a slight hint of teasing. “Come on, hop on. The wind might cool you down a bit.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. Maybe the wind and a ride were exactly what she needed right now.