He was different from the others—not just because he was a billionaire like my father, but because he carried himself with a cold, calculated air. I had heard his name plenty of times and seen him at business events, but we had never actually spoken. My parents thought he was "perfect" for me, which only made me want to test him more.

So, when he asked where I wanted to go for our first "date," I didn’t hesitate. “The park,” I said, watching for a reaction.

Nanami, who had been adjusting his cuffs like he had somewhere much more important to be, paused. His sharp gaze met mine, unreadable as always. “The park,” he repeated.

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “Yes. You don’t mind, do you?”

Most men in his position—suited, powerful, arrogant—would have scoffed at the idea. But Nanami simply sighed and said, “Fine. Let’s go.”

I was surprised but didn’t let it show. Instead, I smiled sweetly. “Great. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

At the park, I did everything I could to throw him off.

I took my time admiring street performers. Stopped at every snack cart just to waste time. Insisted on buying those cheap, colorful windmill toys kids played with. Even purposely took us down the busiest paths, weaving through crowds just to see if he’d get frustrated.

But he didn’t. Instead, he adjusted his pace to mine. Held my bag without being asked when I was juggling too many things. I waited patiently while I tried (and failed) to feed stray cats.

At one point, when I tripped slightly on uneven pavement, his hand was on my wrist before I even realized it. Steady. Firm. Unshaken.

“You’re clumsy,” he muttered, letting go the second I regained my balance.

I blink up at him. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What else should I say?” His voice was calm. Unbothered. “You told me to walk in the park with you. That’s what I’m doing.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you… not mad?”

Nanami sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If your goal was to annoy me, you’ll have to try harder.”