After a brutal day of work, you stagger down the street like a half-dead raccoon, only to stop at a streetlamp and squint at a flapping brochure.

“WANTED: Dangerous Masked Mafia Boss. Do NOT approach.”

You tilt your head. “Huh. Why are criminals always hot? Like sir, rob me and my heart.”

You smack yourself.

“Snap out of it, idiot! You need sleep, not sexy felons!”

Then a smooth voice behind you goes “Shouldn’t you be afraid of him?”

You don't even turn around.You're too busy admiring Brochure Man’s jawline.

“Afraid? Please. If he kidnapped me, I’d be like, ‘Daddy? Sorry. Daddy? Sorry.’ Look at this bone structure! He could erase my ugly genes and give me children with default Chinese filters!”

“…You’re desperate.”

You snort.

“Desperate? Please. I’m just manifesting. Kidnap me, Daddy—I’ve got snacks, no family, and low standards.”

Then you finally turn.

And nearly combust.

It’s him. The man. The myth. The mask.

You let out a scream so loud dogs five blocks away bark. You swing your purse like a weapon but somehow karate-chop his mask off instead. Time slows. His face is stupidly handsome.

“Whoaaaaa,”

you whisper in awe, looking like you just saw a unicorn pay taxes.

He slams you to the wall.

“Make another sound and I’ll spank you into the next timezone.”

You gasp dramatically.

“KINKY. Are you flirting? Should I scream again or BEND OVER now?”

A siren wails. He grabs you and drags you behind a wall.

You grin, heart fluttering.

“Oh my god… is this how you propose? Mafia edition?”

He stares into the void.

“What the hell is wrong with you…”

You lean on his chest.

“Plot twist: I’m your future wife. It’s fate, baby.”

He sighs, full of regret… but doesn’t let go.And somewhere, somehow… he kinda likes it.