The old woman guided Yuto to the center of the room. From a worn leather pouch, she poured grains of rice onto the floor, carefully forming a perfect circle around her. When the circle was complete, she moved outside it and lowered herself to the ground.
Her voice rose in a low, rhythmic chant—ancient words that made the air tremble. The room grew unnaturally cold. Then, without warning, a blinding flash of light exploded from the circle, swallowing Yuto's vision whole.
She was in the witch's cottage and the next moment she was outside in a bursting city.
"This is it," she whispered in awe.
The city's beauty only deepened as the rising sun slowly painted the sky in gold. She turned in a slow circle, and fresh waves of amazement washed over her. The people moved through the streets dressed in flamboyant, flashy colors, their outfits shimmering with life. The shops shone just as brightly—each one as vibrant as a rainbow.
A rich, mouthwatering scent of food waffled through the air, making her nose twitch. Her stomach growled in instant response.
She walked toward the nearest restaurant. Inside, the place buzzed with life—people bustling from table to table as waiters rushed back and forth with practiced speed. The air was thick with laughter, conversation, and the rich scent of food.
Then, suddenly, a certain table caught her eye.
Two very tall, muscular men sat across from each other—but it was one in particular who stole her attention.
Yuto had never seen such a dazzling man in her life. His eyes were striking—so beautiful they looked capable of hypnotizing without a single spell. His skin was fair like smooth porcelain, pale in a way that almost reminded her of a vampire's charm. He sat casually, leaning back in his chair with his long legs crossed as if he owned the entire restaurant without needing to say a word.
His long, fair fingers lifted his glass with lazy elegance as he spoke to the man opposite him, completely at ease.
And then there were his lips.
They curved slightly as he spoke—soft, slow, and dangerously inviting, as if every word was touched with quiet temptation. Yuto felt her breath hitch before she even realized she had stopped walking.
For a man she had never met… he was already far too captivating.
"Excuse me, sir" a waitress brought Yuto back to the present "can I be of any assistance" the waitress added with a very wide smile.
Yuto cleared her voice and deepened it slightly
"Ah, yes. A table for one please,"
The waitress offered a bright, apologetic smile. "As you can see, sir ah, today we're quite packed. Would you mind joining a table with others?"
The very first image that flashed through Yuto's mind was that table.
The two men.
More specifically… him.
Yuto abruptly shook her head, as if she could physically rid herself of the inappropriate thought. She couldn't quite pinpoint the last time she had ever felt such a pull toward a man, lust was usually the last thing on her mind. And yet, somehow, impossibly, she felt herself drawn to him.
I can't be thinking about this right now, she scolded herself. The best thing to do is move as far away from that man as possible.
With that resolution burning in her chest, she lifted her gaze back to the waiting waitress.
"I'll join the two fine gentlemen over there," she said, pointing in a certain direction.
The waitress followed her gaze and gave a small nod. "Alright then. I'll grab the menu and be right over."
Yuto released a quiet breath of relief as the waitress walked away. The moment the woman disappeared, reality settled in. Slowly, she stepped toward the table she had chosen. She straightened her back, squared her shoulders, and lifted her chin—summoning courage she wasn't sure she actually had.
"E-excuse me, gentlemen," she said, forcing confidence into her voice. "Do you mind if I take a seat?"
"Oh, go ahead," the first man replied without much interest, barely glancing up.
He was bulky, broad-shouldered, with a thick beard covering most of his stern face. The man beside him, however, was his complete opposite—lean, youthful, probably in his early twenties, with soft features and a naturally friendly expression that made him seem far more approachable.
And yet…
Yuto's eyes betrayed her, drifting once again to the one who had caught her from the beginning as he sat in a corner far from her table.
"You're not from around here, are you?" the young man asked as Yuto took her seat. He smiled easily. "I'm Brendon, by the way."
"Yes, my attire gives me away," she replied with a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Brendon. I'm Yuto."
"That's quite an exotic name," the large, bearded man remarked, his deep voice rough but steady.
"Indeed," Yuto said as she took a light sip of water. "Parents…"
Brendon burst into a chuckle. "Oh, trust me—I understand that struggle. Once, my father made me strip because he thought I was far too pretty to be a man. Unbelievable, right? Such a pervert." He shook his head with a laugh, then added teasingly, "I can only imagine what he'd do if he ever met a pretty boy like you."
Yuto nearly choked on her water.
She coughed sharply, placing the glass down as a sudden heat rushed to her face. "I—W-what?!" she sputtered, eyes widening in disbelief. Her cheeks burned as she quickly looked away, embarrassed and utterly unprepared for that comment.
Pretty boy?
Her heartbeat awkwardly against her ribs as she awkwardly cleared her throat. "Y-you speak very freely," she muttered, trying—and failing—to regain her composure.
Brendon only grinned wider. By sheer luck the arrival of the waitress eased the tension building in the air. She gave the waitress her order and soon enough her order was back.
"So, what brings you here, to this humble town?" the bulky man asked, his deep voice calm but probing.
"Personal reasons," Yuto mumbled, chewing on a spoonful of rice, careful not to meet their eyes.
"Hmmm. And do you have a place to stay?" Brendon asked with a small, easy smile. "I could host you if you don't."
Yuto's stomach seemed to tighten, and an urgent need to escape the conversation surged through her. Her hands shook slightly as she picked up her spoon again, forcing herself to eat faster. Each bite felt like a desperate attempt to make herself invisible, to put distance between herself and their unnerving attention.
I need to leave. As soon as possible, she thought, willing her movements to seem casual, though every instinct screamed otherwise.
As she forced herself to eat faster, her gaze flicked across the room. From another table, the man she couldn't stop thinking about was there—calm, elegant, and utterly untouchable, as if he belonged to a different world entirely.