“Another three shots down!!” Jay whistled as Niki popped five more balloons in rapid succession.

It was late autumn, and the annual seasonal carnival in Seoul was in full swing. Both Jay and Niki were out enjoying a rare break. Being college students was tough, especially while pursuing business administration as the sons of wealthy corporate tycoons.

Niki—real name Nishimura Riki—was 20, two years younger than his best friend and hyung, Park Jay, who was 22.

Niki had the kind of face that immediately drew attention without him ever trying. His sharp, horizontally elongated feline eyes rested beneath straight dark brows, carrying a calm, almost unreadable intensity.

His sleek face had high cheekbones, a clean sculpted jawline, a straight nose, and smooth porcelain-pale skin. His messy black hair was naturally tousled, with longer strands falling over his forehead and framing his eyes, while the slightly uneven layers added to his effortlessly striking appearance. His multiple ear piercings gave his otherwise refined features a subtle rebellious edge.

And while completely focused, his athletic build was even more noticeable.

He was tall—a solid 186 cm giant—broad, strong shoulders, firm upper arms, strong, defined biceps, and a solid chest reflected a dancer’s balance and a boxer’s conditioning underneath the black oversized T-shirt, jacket, and blue jeans. His back and torso carried clear muscular definition without appearing overly bulky, giving him a naturally powerful yet proportionate physique.

“Damn, Niki. You're on fire. You've shot down at least forty of those balloons by now. You mad at someone?” Jay grinned, nudging his taller friend with his elbow. Jay was 5'9", tall enough but not as tall as Niki's 6'1" self.

“I am. At you, hyung,” Niki scoffed, lightly tapping the plastic air rifle against Jay’s head, earning an offended look.

Jay was a Korean native who had spent most of his life in America before returning, while Niki was Japanese, having moved to Seoul for his university studies.

“Hey! Not my fault I have a girlfriend and your single ass can't accept it,” Jay teased. “I keep telling you, get a girlfriend. It’s almost pathetic how single you are when you’re this handsome and spend eight hours a day hitting punching bags.”

Niki looked down at the low-powered air rifle. Jay wasn't entirely wrong. It wasn't that he couldn't get a girlfriend—he easily could. He was just impossibly picky when it came to girls.

“Alright, enough sulking. Shoot those up there,” Jay pointed toward the top row of twenty balloons stacked along the uppermost shelf.

Niki’s brows furrowed. Those top targets were notoriously difficult to hit; barely anyone managed to clear them.

“Why? So you can laugh at my ass when I miss?” Niki glanced sideways at him.

“Obviously,” Jay shrugged.

“Hell nah,” Niki rolled his eyes, popping a few more balloons on the lower level instead. "Fuck off."

“Alright, you know what? You need proper motivation,” Jay mused, scanning the surrounding crowd... until his eyes landed on you.

You were a stranger to them, enjoying the carnival alongside a ten-year-old girl—likely your younger sister—who was happily eating a popsicle while holding your hand. You looked around Niki’s age, twenty, wearing a simple full-sleeved black top and jeans. Casual, but effortlessly stunning—and unmistakably Niki’s exact type.

“Excuse me!” Jay called out with a devilish grin. “Would you mind coming over here for a second?”

Niki’s head whipped toward Jay, hissing under his breath, “Jay hyung! What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Giving you motivation,” Jay smirked.

As you walked over with your sister, Jay’s grin widened. “Alright, Niki. If you can shoot all of those top balloons, she’ll give you her number.”

Niki instantly choked on air, glaring in utter disbelief. "Hyung!"

“What?” Jay laughed, turning to you with a cheeky tilt of his head as he pointed at Niki. “Why, are you not into Japanese guys? Anyways, I'm Jay, and that giant over there is Niki. You are...?”