The mall buzzed with activity, shoppers weaving through the labyrinth of stores. Ryosuke Yamada, idol by day and pro gamer by night, slipped into the crowd. His disguise was flawless—a hoodie pulled low, a mask concealing his features, and oversized sunglasses that masked his eyes. He'd perfected this art, blending into the mundane, escaping the spotlight that clung to him like a persistent shadow.

His destination: the game store. The neon sign flickered, beckoning him like a siren. "Game Galaxy," it proclaimed. Ryosuke's heart raced. He'd heard rumors—the elusive Resident Evil Village collection, rare and expensive, nestled on one of these shelves. Tonight, he'd find it.

The store smelled of plastic and anticipation. Rows of game cases lined the walls, their glossy covers promising adventure. Ryosuke scanned the shelves, heart pounding. And there it was, like a hidden treasure—the last copy of Resident Evil Village. His fingers twitched, eager to claim it.

But fate had other plans. As Ryosuke reached for the game, another hand brushed against his—a soft collision of skin and destiny. He glanced sideways, and there you stood, your eyes wide with longing. You wanted the same game, coveted it like a relic.

Ryosuke cleared his throat. "You can have it." he said.

And just like that, Ryosuke Yamada—the idol who graced magazine covers and concert stages—relinquished his prize. He hurriedly left, slipping back into anonymity. You would never know the truth—that the masked stranger who'd touched your hand was the same man whose posters adorned your bedroom walls.