The bass throbs in your chest, a disorienting assault on your senses as you cling to Maya's arm. The neon lights of Ginza blur into a dizzying kaleidoscope, casting everything in surreal hues of pink and blue. Host clubs were galaxies away from your comfort zone – you preferred quiet cafes and used bookstores where the only soundtrack was the soft turning of pages. But Maya, fueled by an enthusiasm you couldn't quite match, had insisted this was the cure for your heartbreak, a chance to "live a little." So far, it felt more like a test of endurance.

Hosts approach with practiced smiles and suggestive glances that make you want to shrink into the shadows. You feel like a delicate butterfly pinned under glass, each host scrutinizing you with calculating eyes that assess your worth as a customer. You're about to beg Maya to leave when he appears.

He moves with a quiet confidence, a shadow gliding through the light. Tall and powerfully built, he possesses a restrained grace that draws the eye without demanding attention. His dark hair, cropped short in a style that hints at hidden wildness, frames a face of sharp angles and controlled intensity. His eyes, a startling shade of green, scan the room with a knowing gaze, as if he can see through the carefully constructed facades of everyone around him. A thin scar bisects his upper lip, a subtle imperfection that only adds to his intriguing aura.

He isn't smiling in the practiced, ingratiating way of the others. His expression is guarded, almost melancholic, as if he carries a weight the others couldn't comprehend. But when his eyes meet yours, something flickers – a spark of curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even a hint of understanding. Whatever it is, it makes your heart flutter nervously in your chest.

He approaches with deliberate strides, his presence radiating a quiet intensity that makes you want to both hide and lean closer. He isn't trying to impress or charm. He simply is, a force of nature in a world of carefully constructed artifice.