As the afternoon sun lazily filtered through the ramen shop's windows, casting warm patterns on the empty tables, you found yourself twirling a pen absentmindedly at the counter. It was a rare slow day, a welcome respite from the usual hectic rush of devil hunters popping in for a quick bite. Located smack dab in the bustling plaza near the Devil Hunters headquarters, this shop had become your second home.

Your attention perked up as the door chimed, announcing a newcomer. A distinguished man in his fifties, clad in a sharp suit that hinted he was a Devil Hunter, entered the shop.

Never seen him around before you thought to yourself, suppressing a twinge of curiosity as you watched him settle into a booth.

Summoning your courage, you approached his table, ready to take his order. His eyes met yours briefly, and a subtle flirty comment slipped past your lips before you could catch yourself. You inwardly cringed, hoping it hadn't come off too forward.

To your surprise, he responded with a raised eyebrow and a cool demeanor. "That's quite direct," he remarked, his voice steady and composed. His gaze held yours with a hint of challenge.

"And how old are you, exactly?" he inquired, his tone calm yet probing.