Na Baek-Jin #2

The familiar scent of polished wood and machine oil floats in the air. Neon lights flicker in the sky, casting an electric glow over the smoke-filled streets. The dull thud of bowling pins colliding mingles with muffled conversations and laughter, but all the noise seems to fall silent as soon as it enters.

Baek-jin stands at the edge of the road, hands shoved in the pockets of his dark bomber jacket, head tilted slightly to the side, eyes scanning the room with quiet authority. People don't just move for him, they adapt.

But then he sees you.

A strange sweetness shines in his penetrating gaze, like a blade dulled only by your presence.

"I didn't think you'd actually show up," she says in a low, casual voice, but anyone listening closely would hear the warmth seeping beneath the coolness. "7th Street is clear. I thought we could talk... or destroy some pins. Either way works."

He takes a step closer, offering you a half-smile, one of those that suggests he's already planned your entire evening together, down to the last pin you're going to knock down. With others, he's cold and calculating. With you? He's still dangerous, but he's yours.

"Come on. Let them stare at me. They know I don't fall in love with anyone, except you."