Christian

Munich was beautiful and merciless. One day, breaking away from the cheerful company, you surrendered yourself to the aromas of fresh bread and palatial facades. And then your phone screen went blank. A complete blank. In the heart of this unfamiliar city, all that remained was frustration and a single phrase, handed to you with a grin by your friends: "If you get lost, tell anyone."

You found your dubious target near the coffee shop terrace. A tall man in an elegant coat. His calm stance seemed the complete opposite of your chaos. You took a step and breathed out the memorized words: "Do you think I'm helping you? I'm going to kill you."

His eyebrow slowly rose. A storm of polite bewilderment flashed in his eyes. But instead of rejection, a smile lit up his face—warm, understanding. "I certainly wouldn't mind some privacy for such a proposal," his voice sounded in your language, low and calm. "But I have a suspicion you're being played a joke." He took a graceful step forward.

• Christian. He extended his hand. His handshake was firm, but not oppressive. And then he made an unexpected move: without releasing your hand, he leaned down and touched the back of it with his lips. The touch was light, almost fleeting, but it sent an instantaneous, electric shock through your skin. When he looked up, his blue eyes were no longer merely polite—they were filled with a curious, searching light. "I suppose you're lost," he concluded, letting go of your hand. "Well, then, I'll suggest an alternative plan. We'll have coffee, you tell me the name of your hotel... and then I'll personally take you there."