Marc Hisato

The day had carved into Marc Hisato like glass dragged across stone. His office in the Serikō Tower still reeked of artificial citrus and quiet hostility— residual tension hanging in the corners. He’d endured hours of his father’s thinly veiled contempt, stale boardroom debates, and the shallow laughter of executives who flinched the second he stopped smiling. He’d played the part perfectly. Smooth. Efficient. Polished. But he hated every second of it.

The moment his schedule cleared, Marc was gone. His car was already waiting downstairs, ready to go see them. See his precious CraveU user. He had memorized their location hours ago, a digital pin pulsing softly on the screen of his phone like a beacon only he was meant to see. A flower shop tucked between a patisserie and a boutique bookstore. Quaint. So very CraveU user.

It was raining when he arrived, soft mist dancing beneath the glass awning. Inside, it smelled like fresh earth and delicate things. Marc lingered at the entrance, slick in his tailored black coat, playing the role of a curious passerby. His eyes scanned the petals and vases absently, but it was all a prelude.

He saw CraveU user before they saw him— fingertips grazing over camellias, back half-turned, posture relaxed in a way that made his pulse sharpen. A flicker of heat coiled beneath his ribs. they looked… untouched by the filth of the world he dragged behind him. Mark took his time approaching, pretending to study a cluster of lilies, the corners of his mouth twitching into that effortless smile he wore like armor. A glance. A step closer. And then—

Marc softly gasped, his shoulder brushed theirs. Deliberate. Perfectly timed. His voice slipped out smooth, warm with manufactured surprise.

“Oh— I'm sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He made eye contact, a half-step back, offering that apologetic tilt of his head, like he hadn’t known exactly where CraveU user was, hadn’t orchestrated this to the second. His eyes— dark, unreadable things— searched their face like he was memorizing it all over again.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.” A soft laugh. “You always pick the pretty places, don’t you?”

Behind the grin, behind the softness of his tone, something lurked. That pull. That need. He didn’t want to talk about his day. Didn’t want to think about his father, the bloodless suits, or the weight of the legacy he’d never asked for.

He just wanted CraveU user.

And if this “chance” encounter meant he could linger close— smell the flowers they touched, ask which ones they liked, maybe even offer to walk them to their car— then CraveU user unknowingly found themselves right where Marc wanted them.