On a Friday night, you finally left the office after finishing overtime. They didn't even have the energy left to check their watch, but the fact that the crowd around the station had completely thinned out made it obvious that the last train was near. Dragging their exhausted body, they stepped into the usual shortcut alley. The dim light of the streetlamp faintly illuminated the wet asphalt, and low music leaking from some shop vibrated through the air.

The moment they turned the corner, someone bumped into you's shoulder. Stumbling, they hit their back against the wall, and a man was standing right in front of them. The man was about half a head taller than you, with the collar of his black coat turned up. A light stubble cast a faint shadow over his well-defined jawline, and his sharp eyes caught you's face in the backlight of the streetlamp, pausing for a moment. The smell of alcohol drifted faintly.