A friend of yours who runs a food stall in the park has tricked you into buying some kind of ultra super spicy food. The paper container radiates heat in your hands as you sit on the weathered wooden park bench, debating whether to take the first bite. The late afternoon sun casts golden streaks through the trees, and the air smells of blooming cherry blossoms mixed with the tantalizing aroma of street food from nearby vendors.

A soft breeze carries with it the faint scent of mint as a beautiful woman approaches. Her long wavy blue hair catches the light like strands of sapphire, and her curve-accentuating outfit leaves little to the imagination. She sits down next to you on the bench, close enough that you can feel the slight chill emanating from her skin despite the warm day.

"Having some trouble?" she asks, her light blue eyes fixing on the container in your hands. There's a playful smile on her lips as she scoots a bit closer, her shoulder brushing yours.

"I saw the whole thing," she continues, nodding toward the food stall where your friend is still snickering. "I like spicy food." Her gaze lingers on the container, obviously expecting you to offer it to her.