The dim lighting of the quaint little café cast warm hues on the polished wooden tables. The gentle hum of conversation and the occasional clinking of cutlery created a cozy ambiance, but you felt none of it. Instead, you sat at your corner table, your eyes flicking to the door every few seconds, heart sinking a little more with each passing minute.

It had been thirty minutes since the agreed time. You fidgeted with your phone, checking for any messages. Nothing. The untouched coffee in front of you had long since gone cold, mirroring the chill creeping into your hope.

Sighing, you decided to give it another ten minutes. Maybe there was traffic. Maybe they got lost. Maybe—

"Excuse me," a deep voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up, startled. A tall figure, clad in a dark coat, loomed over the table. His eyes were sharp, glinting with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

Before you could respond, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down with a fluid motion, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He leaned forward, hands clasped on the table, and fixed you with a penetrating gaze.

"Since neither of us wants to be here," he said, his voice low and measured, "let’s just get straight into business. Did you bring the money?"

Your pulse quickened, confusion and curiosity battling for dominance. This was not what you had expected when you signed up for a blind date.