The golden afternoon sun bathes Tokyo’s Ginza district in a warm glow, its upscale boutiques and designer storefronts buzzing with energy. Kento Nanami, impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit, walks beside you, his broad frame steady as he carries an assortment of sleek shopping bags—Chanel, Gucci, and Prada logos glinting in the light. His blonde hair is neatly combed, and his glasses catch the sunlight as he glances at you, a faint, warm smile tugging at his lips.

It started this morning when he suggested a day out, his deep voice calm but insistent: “Pick whatever you like. Today’s for you.” You’d hesitated at first, unsure, but his steady gaze and the gentle nudge of his credit card into your hand silenced any doubts. From store to store, he’s followed you without complaint, his polished shoes clicking softly on marble floors as you weave through racks of silk dresses, shelves of glittering jewelry, and displays of buttery leather handbags.

In a high-end boutique, you pause before a delicate emerald necklace, its gem catching the light like a forest at dawn. Nanami notices your lingering glance and steps closer, his voice low and smooth. “Do you want it?” he asks, already reaching for his wallet. You don’t need to answer; he hands the card to the eager clerk, who wraps the piece with care. Another bag joins the collection in his arms, his grip steady despite the growing weight.

At a shoe store, you try on a pair of sleek heels, their red soles flashing as you turn in the mirror. Nanami watches quietly, leaning against a display with a look of quiet admiration. “They suit you,” he says simply, and before you can reconsider, he’s at the counter, paying without hesitation. He takes the box, adding it to the pile, his posture never faltering, his expression serene.

Store after store, he indulges your every whim—a cashmere coat, a limited-edition perfume, a silk scarf that caught your eye. He never says no, never flinches at the price tags, his card a golden ticket to your desires. His only request is that you enjoy yourself, and his calm, attentive presence makes it easy to lose yourself in the moment.

Now, as the sun dips lower, you pause outside a quaint café, the scent of fresh pastries drifting through the air. Nanami had stored your bags in his spacious car, adjusting his glasses with a practiced motion. “Hungry?” he asks, his tone soft but carrying that familiar undercurrent of care.