Nana jolted awake to the blaring of her phone alarm, her face still pressed against her laptop keyboard. The screen flickered with the paused frame of a Chinese historical drama—the emperor's daughter reaching for her forbidden doctor's hand in the moonlit garden.
"No, no, no!"
She scrambled upright, nearly knocking over her cold coffee from last night. 7:47 AM. Her team meeting was at 8:00.
She threw on her hunter uniform with record speed, not bothering to check if her hair was presentable, and burst out of her apartment. Her motorcycle roared to life as she kicked the stand and tore down the street, weaving through Linkon City's morning traffic with the kind of reckless confidence only the strongest hunter in the association could pull off.
Her earpiece crackled. "Nana, where the hell are you?" Tara's exasperated voice cut through the wind.
"Two minutes away! I swear!"
"You said that fifteen minutes ago!"
The Hunter Association headquarters loomed ahead, all steel and glass reflecting the early autumn sun. Nana skidded to a stop in the parking lot, nearly clipping Nero's pristine SUV.
"You're late," Captain Jenna said flatly, arms crossed as Nana stumbled into the briefing room.
"I know, I know! But I'm here now, aren't I?"
Nana flashed her brightest smile, hoping to diffuse the situation.Jenna's expression didn't budge, but she turned back to the holographic display.
"As I was saying before our star hunter decided to grace us with her presence—we have three Wanderer sightings in the eastern district. Class B threats. Standard elimination protocol."
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The mission went smoother than expected. Well, mostly.
The Wanderers—twisted, shadowy creatures that fed on human energy—had cornered a family near the old textile factory.
Nana's team moved with practiced efficiency: Tara providing cover fire, Nero drawing aggro, and Nana... being Nana.
"Nana, use your gun!"
Tara shouted as Nana launched herself feet-first at the largest Wanderer, her aether core flaring bright blue around her leg.
"Where's the fun in that?"
Nana grinned, even as the creature's claws raked across her calf. Pain shot up her leg, but she twisted mid-air, her pistol finally clearing its holster. Three shots. Three direct hits to the Wanderer's core. It dissolved into black mist with an otherworldly shriek.
The family ran to safety.
Mission accomplished.
"You're bleeding," Nero observed, nodding toward her leg.
Nana looked down at the gash, already staining her pants.
"It's just a scratch."
"That's what you said last time before you nearly passed out from blood loss," Tara muttered, tossing her a medical kit.
"I was fine."
"You literally collapsed in the debriefing
room."
"..It was just tired"
By the time Nana limped into the Linkon Cafe, it was past 1 PM and her stomach was staging a full rebellion.
The lunch rush had died down, leaving the cozy space half-empty and peaceful. The smell of fresh bread and brewing coffee wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
She ordered her usual—carbonara pasta, extra cheese, and an iced latte—and claimed her favorite corner booth.
Tara had bailed to meet her boyfriend, and Nero had some family thing. Solo lunch it was.
At twenty-one, Nana had dedicated most of her life to hunting. Training, missions, more training. Romance felt like something from those dramas she binged at 2 AM—beautiful, passionate, and completely unrealistic.
Sometimes, watching couples walk hand-in-hand outside the cafe, she wondered what it felt like. To have someone look at you like you were their entire world.
She twirled her fork in the pasta, lost in thought, when that familiar prickle of awareness crept up her spine.
Someone was watching her.
Her eyes darted up and landed on him.
Dr. Zayne Li stood near the pickup counter, tall and composed in his dark gray coat, a coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. But he wasn't looking at either.
Those striking hazel eyes—cold and calculating like winter frost—were fixed directly on her.
Nana froze, fork halfway to her mouth, a strand of pasta dangling awkwardly.
Their eyes met.
The cafe seemed to shrink. The ambient chatter faded into white noise.Zayne's expression remained unreadable, that perpetual mask of professional detachment that had earned him the nickname
"The Iceberg Doctor" throughout Linkon City.
A cardiologist surgeon known for his exceptional skill and equally exceptional coldness. He spoke only when necessary, never smiled, and maintained an emotional distance that most people found intimidating.
But then—just for a fraction of a second—the corner of his mouth lifted. The smallest hint of a smile, so brief Nana almost thought she'd imagined it.
Cute, Zayne thought, watching her struggle with the pasta like a hungry hamster who'd forgotten how eating worked. She had a small smudge of sauce on her cheek and her hair stuck up at an odd angle on one side, probably from her helmet.
The other cafe patrons were glancing at her with that mix of recognition and awe—the famous hunter, Angelina Wang, looking thoroughly human and completely unaware of her own charm.
He had another surgery scheduled in thirty minutes. He should leave.
Instead, he walked past her booth, coffee in hand, allowing himself one more glance.
Nana's heart did something weird in her chest. She quickly shoved pasta into her mouth, pretending to be utterly fascinated by the pattern on her plate.
Don't look back, don't look back, don't—
She looked back.
Zayne had paused at the door, his hand on the frame. He was looking back too.
Their eyes met again.
This time, Nana's face flushed hot. She immediately checked her reflection in her phone screen. Do I have something on my face? Is my hair a disaster? Oh god, it totally looks like a bird's nest, doesn't it?!
But Zayne had already turned away, disappearing into the afternoon crowd.
Nana sat there, pasta forgotten, heart beating strangely fast. She touched her cheek where she'd felt his gaze linger.
She didn't know his name yet.
Didn't know that years from now, in a realm between life and death, he would confess he'd fallen for her in this exact moment—watching her eat pasta like a chaotic, beautiful disaster in a quiet cafe on an ordinary autumn afternoon.
All she knew was that something had shifted.
And the iceberg doctor's hazel eyes would haunt her dreams that night.
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To be continued.