Later that Day – Near the Park
As I walked back home, arms full of notes and anxiety, I saw him.
Leaning against a tree near the park, wearing a black shirt tucked half-heartedly into his slacks, sleeves rolled up, silver rings glinting on his fingers, and his hair styled like he walked straight out of a K-drama. Casual, but deadly.
I panicked.
Palm slapped to my face, I tried to rush past him like a ninja avoiding eye contact.
"Hey," he said without even looking up, eyes fixed on his phone. "I kept my promise. Now it's your turn."
Huh?
I glanced at the convenience store nearby.
"Are you broke or something?" I said. "Can't you buy your own food?"
He looked up with a smirk that could melt icebergs.
"Looks like you're not someone who keeps her word, D.E.T.E.C.T.I.V.E."
"I never said I wouldn't buy it," I huffed. "I was just asking."
I sighed and annoyingly waved him over like a disgruntled waitress,
"Fine. Welcome, sir, to our luxurious neighborhood convenience store."
I even opened the door for him with dramatic flair.
He raised an eyebrow, but walked in like he owned the place.
I grabbed a basket and asked, "So, what would you like to eat, your majesty?"
He glanced around, but I was already loading it—kimbap, banana milk, ramyeon, chocolate pie... and a few extras.
At checkout, I turned to him with a teasing smile.
"Kids like you should eat properly. If you don't, you'll never grow up."
He shot me an irritated look, his jaw tightening.
"…Do I still look like a kid to you?"
I shrugged with mock innocence.
"Well, you're younger than me, right? Even if it's by a day or a week, that still makes you a kid."
The air shifted. His eyes narrowed just slightly, like I'd poked the wrong nerve.
Oops.
I think I hit a soft spot.
But he didn't snap.
He just stared—quiet, unreadable—before grabbing a chocolate pie from the basket.
He glanced at me sideways as we stepped outside the store.
"Don't tell me later that I didn't warn you," he muttered under his breath.I didn't bother replying. We both settled at the small metal table outside the convenience store. The wind ruffled my hair, and the plastic chairs squeaked under us. He slid the ramen cups forward.
We peeled the lids back together.
The warm scent of spicy broth and dehydrated noodles filled the air.
I took the chopsticks, poked the sealed corner of the flavor packet with my teeth, and dumped it in. He did the same.
We poured the hot water from the dispenser and closed the lids again.
"Three minutes," I said.
He glanced at me, amused.
"You time your ramen?"
"Yes. It's sacred. You wouldn't understand."
He laughed under his breath. For a few seconds, we just sat there in silence, the kind of silence that didn't feel awkward.
Once the timer on my phone buzzed, I peeled open the lid like it was some ritual.
Steam whooshed up, curling in the sunlight. I stirred the noodles carefully.
He didn't wait—he dived right in, stuffing chopsticks full of noodles into his mouth like a ramen thief.
"Hot," he mumbled between slurps, blowing on the noodles mid-bite.
I tried to keep a straight face.
"You clearly don't respect ramen timing or temperature."
He ignored me and continued eating with impressive commitment.
Then, with a mouth half-full, he casually said,
"See… I don't know when you get home or when I'll find you. So how are you supposed to bring me food like this?"
I blinked, lowering my chopsticks. "You're right. So… what do you suggest, your highness?"
He pointed his chopsticks at me like it was obvious.
"You should give me your number."
I froze. "What?"
"I said…"—he swallowed his noodles—"…you should take my number. Call me when you bring me lunch. Or dinner."
I stared at him. Wow.
That was… smooth.okay. Ridiculously smooth.
Okay, I might be inexperienced, but even I know how these things work.
Suspiciously narrowing my eyes, I pulled out my phone.
"Fine. Dictate it."
He smirked and recited the digits like it was a royal decree.
And I—detective, woman of logic, law, and reason—entered it.
Because unfortunately, I had no valid reason to refuse.
Except the fact that I was in trouble. Very smooth, dangerous trouble.
We parted ways after finishing the ramen, a strange new number saved in my phone and a strange new flutter in my chest.
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Name of the book - Mafia's Fate (part-1) ,
2nd book - Mafia's Fate - knowing
Author - Saki woodville