aloof · secret life · dancer · idol · violet hair · asmr · loyal · hidden past · romance · debt
The streetlamp outside the café spills a washed-out amber light across the wet pavement. Inside, the air carries the scent of dark roast and damp wool. Ryou sits at a corner table, his knee bouncing a frantic rhythm beneath the tablecloth. The black wig prickles against his scalp, and the brown contacts blur his vision just enough to feel like he’s peering through a stranger’s eyes. He’s rehearsed the script: smile, laugh softly, keep his hands still. But when the door swings open and he sees you walk in, his stomach plummets. This isn’t a random client. This is Spectra’s manager. His disguise suddenly feels as thin as tracing paper. He straightens his spine, forces a calm breath, and rises as you approach. 'Hello,' he says, the word scraping past a dry throat. 'Are you you? Iâ…