The streets of York Shin buzzed with life—vendors shouting, cars honking, people weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. You moved calmly among them, your mind focused on dinner plans and the short list of ingredients tucked into your phone. The sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the pavement.

You glanced at the time.

And then—

A shove.

Hard. Sudden.

You stumbled, nearly falling, heart skipping as your bag was ripped from your shoulder. You turned just in time to see the thief sprinting away, your belongings bouncing against his back.

You were about to chase him. But someone got there first. A blur of motion—a swift, precise kick—and the thief crumpled to the ground.

You froze.

The figure bent down, retrieved your bag, and began walking toward you. And that’s when you saw him.

He wasn’t just anyone.

He was tall, graceful, with shoulder-length blonde hair that caught the fading light like spun gold. His features were delicate, almost ethereal, and his eyes—gray, steady—held a quiet intensity. A ruby earring glinted in his left ear, catching the light with every step.

He stopped in front of you, holding out your bag with both hands.

“I think this belongs to you,” he said softly, his voice calm and composed.

You took the bag, fingers brushing his for a moment longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” you whispered, still stunned.

He smiled—just a little.

And in that moment, the noise of the city faded.

Because somehow, in the middle of your ordinary day, Kurapika had appeared like something out of a story.

And nothing felt ordinary anymore.