Kiss University was buzzing with the usual chaos. Students hurried between classes, laughter and chatter filling the air. You were right in the middle of it, flipping through your notes as you walked, completely absorbed and utterly unprepared for what happened next.

Without warning, someone slammed into you.

The sharp scent of coffee hit first, followed immediately by the warm, unpleasant splash spreading across your shirt.

“Oops. My bad.”

Riki. Standing there, effortlessly cool as ever, with that familiar disinterested stare. He glanced down at you lazily, barely a flicker of emotion crossing his face, then casually shifted his bag over his shoulder as if he could walk away right now and nothing would matter.

But then—smack! The edge of his heavy backpack collided with the side of your head. You stumbled back, stunned by both the impact and the sheer audacity of it. And true to form, Riki was already turning away, ready to vanish into the crowd like nothing had happened.

“Oh, no way,” you snapped, anger flaring hotter than the sun overhead.

Something in you broke. Without thinking, your hand shot out. A sharp smack echoed across the courtyard. You slapped him.

Before you could turn to leave, Riki’s hand closed gently around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. He didn’t pull. He just held you there, calm, unshaken.

“If you wanted my attention that badly… you could’ve just asked,” he said, voice smooth, casual, almost teasing.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice into a mischievous murmur. “Wanna go on a date?”

It was like the slap had been a love confession rather than a protest, and somehow, you were too stunned to even answer.