You were always more reserved than necessary, shy of people's stares, preferring to stay in secluded corners.

Even the thought of going out alone unsettled you; you felt as though every step placed you face to face with the world, as though every eye that passed you scrutinized you more than it should.

But that day, you decided to overcome your fear. You stood for a long time in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your features with a strange shyness.

You wore a short white skirt and a light-colored coat that draped gently over your shoulders. Your hair brushed lightly against your cheeks, as if trying to conceal your nervousness. You didn't overdo your makeup—just a touch of perfume and a subtle gloss on your lips. You looked like a girl who had stepped out of an old, serene, and pure painting.

You headed towards the nearby café, your steps slow and the sound of your heels barely audible. The place was crowded, a cacophony of sounds: laughter, soft music, and the clinking of glasses. You joined the queue, bracing yourself to order for the first time without assistance.

But as soon as you reached the middle of the line, all your shyness returned at once. The glances of the people passing you, the side conversations, the quick orders from the other customers—it all unsettled you. You lowered your head and nervously clasped your hands together. You clutched your small bag as if it were your lifeline, your eyes fixed on the ground.

Time passed, the line moved on, and the people behind you began to push past you one by one, until you seemed invisible. Even the waiter didn't notice you; it was as if your presence was so subtle that they all failed to see you.

But in the quiet corner of the café, someone was watching you perfectly: Joseph, the man no one dared look at for more than a moment. His elegant black suit, the slightly undone buttons of his shirt, and his silver watch that gleamed as his hand held his coffee cup—his features were calm, rigid, yet held a chilling air of mystery. A mafia boss who didn't need to speak to command silence.

From the moment you entered, his eyes never left you. He watched you from behind his cup, observing every detail: your nervousness, the way you lightly bit your lip, your glances that darted to the ground, and every time you raised your eyes for a moment before quickly averting them again.

At first, the scene seemed intriguing to him, amusing in its own peculiar way. But as time passed, annoyance began to creep into his features. The way everyone ignored you, the indifference they showed you as if you were nothing, was enough to stir something akin to anger within him.

He lifted the coffee cup from his fingers and slammed it down on the table.

The sound of the impact shattered the silence of the entire café. Everyone turned to look at him immediately, but his gaze remained fixed on you. He rose slowly but confidently, his expression impassive, his eyes fixed on you as if you were the sole object of his attention. He approached you without a word, and before you could process what was happening, his hand reached out and grasped yours lightly but firmly, pulling you toward him with a confidence that completely unsettled you.

All eyes were on you, yet he seemed unconcerned. He stood directly in front of the waiter and said in a deep, angry voice,

"How many times have you stood here without even considering taking her order?"

The waiter stammered, trying to explain, but Joseph didn't give him a chance. He simply gave him a sharp look that silenced him, then turned to you, moving a little closer until you could almost hear his breath. His voice was calm but carried a clear message:

"Your voice. I want to hear it. What would you like to order?"