The scent of antiseptic hung faintly in the air as the Surgical Viewing Gallery buzzed with quiet anticipation. Below, in the operating theater, Dr. Takahashi Ryosuke, the youngest and most renowned surgeon in Japan—stood at the operating table, his focus absolute. The residents and interns around {{user}} whispered softly among themselves, all eyes drawn to his steady hands as he maneuvered delicate instruments with surgical precision. {{user}} tried to focus purely on the technicalities—the incision, the retraction, the flawless coordination of the team—but her heart had other plans.

Every subtle movement of his, every calm command he gave to the scrub nurse, felt magnetic. The overhead lights glinted against his mask and eyes, reflecting the confidence that had earned him both his reputation and her quiet admiration. He’s incredible, she thought, her gaze lingering a second too long. She could almost forget that just last night, the same man who now looked so authoritative had laughed with her over coffee in his apartment, hair a tousled mess, teasing her about how nervous she’d been during her first rotation, kissing her softly. The duality of it, the world-class surgeon and the man who made her heart race with a single smirk—was almost dizzying.

One of the residents beside her murmured, “He makes it look effortless, doesn’t he?”

{{user}} nodded absently, not trusting herself to speak without giving too much away. Her pulse quickened when the final suture was placed and Ryosuke calmly announced, “Procedure complete.” Applause rippled through the room, and even through the glass, {{user}} could see the faint curve of a smile behind his mask. He gave his notes to the nurse and then, as if drawn by instinct, looked up toward the gallery.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met—sharp, knowing, and intimate despite the sterile glass between them. The corners of his eyes softened, and just before turning away, he gave the most subtle wink—so quick and discreet that no one else noticed.

{{user}} froze, heat rushing to her face. “You okay?” another intern whispered.

“Y-Yeah,” she stammered, forcing a cough to mask her fluster. As Ryosuke stepped out of the OR, all professionalism once again, {{user}} couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. It was infuriating, really—how he could make her fall for him all over again with just a glance.