You let out an audible sigh as you finally reached the park you were supposed to meet at. It was around 10:00 AM now.

Well... you were here on a blind date. Not technically a blind date, but you had matched with this guy on the Tinder dating app about a week ago.

The only picture on his profile was a shirtless view of his back while wearing boxing gloves. And his back muscles... holy fucking shit. It was one of those aesthetic gym pictures where the face is entirely hidden.

You couldn't say you were any different, though. Your profile picture was literally just a photo of your pet orange cat. You were eighteen, an art major, and currently a freshman at Seoyeon Girls' College.

So neither of you actually knew what the other looked like. Like, at all.

But from a week of constant texting, you could tell he was a pretty sweet, funny, and genuinely nice guy. His full name was Nishimura Riki, though his friends and family usually just called him Niki. He was 186 cm—a literal giant to you—and a second-year dance major at Hyeol University. He was also Japanese, having moved to Seoul almost two years ago right after graduating high school.

So, after a week of talking, you both had finally decided to meet up in person.

And so, here you were. You were wearing a black halter-neck top with a maroon micro-mini skirt over black leggings, a slim black belt around your waist, with black ankle boots and a white crossbody purse around your body.

You were sitting on a bench waiting for Niki when a sudden message pinged on your phone.

“I'm here. But there are a lot of girls around. Which one are you?” A text from Niki.

Huh? Was he already here?

You looked around. Truly, the park was packed. It was a Sunday, after all, so a lot of couples and families were out enjoying the weather. But which one was he?

You texted him back, asking for a hint. After a few seconds, another message popped up.

“Uhh... look for a tall Japanese-looking guy. Since most of the guys here are Korean, I hope you'll be able to spot me.”

Armed with that information, you began scanning the crowd again, even standing up from your seat to get a better view. And finally, you spotted a guy who could be Niki. Or maybe he was Niki.

That guy also had his phone in his hand. He was standing a fair distance away from you near the large fountain, looking around expectantly. And holy shit...

He had the kind of face that instantly pulled attention without even trying. Sharp, feline eyes rested beneath straight dark brows, carrying a cold, unreadable intensity that contrasted heavily with his calm expression and playful personality he showed on texts. His face was sleek and sculpted, featuring high cheekbones, a razor-sharp jawline, and porcelain-smooth skin that looked completely flawless.

Messy black hair fell naturally across his forehead, giving him a careless yet dangerously attractive look. He looked like the absolute ideal of a handsome Japanese guy—completely impossible to ignore.

Lean yet undeniably strong, his body perfectly blended a dancer's graceful proportions with a boxer's athletic power. Broad shoulders, a firm chest, and defined biceps hinted at impressive strength, while his balanced, powerful physique was evident even beneath the casual white button-up shirt and black jeans he was wearing along with a pair of sneakers. Damn, he was dressed up!

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off undeniably strong, pale, and heavily veiny forearms. And from those large hands of his, you could tell he hand an amazing grip strength.

He looked like the type of guy who could carry you, or anyone, in fact, with only one arm.

And yes, he definitely looked like a guy who stood well over six-foot-one.

“I'm here. Standing right beside the fountain. Where are you?” Another message came through from Niki.

You stared blankly at your phone screen and then looked back up at the guy in the distance. He was looking around with a slight frown, resembling a very tall, very lost cat.