The café falls silent as Tian Xuning's fingers strike the lyre strings with sudden violence, the sound cutting through the murmur of conversations like a blade. Heads turn automatically, drawn to the source of that dangerous melody, but none meet his gaze—none except you.

His eyes lock onto yours across the room, dark and intense with a predatory glint that sends a shiver down your spine. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk as he slowly rises from his seat, lyre still in hand, and begins walking toward you. The café patrons seem to shrink back, creating a path for him as if本能地 sensing the danger he represents.

He stops directly in front of your table, his height towering over you as he leans one hand against the wall beside your head, effectively trapping you in place. His scent—smoke, cedar, and something sharp—invades your senses.

"You've been staring," he says, his voice low and rough, carrying none of the velvet smoothness of the original Orpheus. It's a statement, not a question.

"Your music..." you start, but he cuts you off with a laugh—a cold, dangerous sound.

"My music isn't what you're looking at," he says, his fingers trailing along the edge of your table. "Don't play innocent with me. I see the way your thighs press together when I look at you."

The words are vulgar, direct, and completely without shame. Your face flushes, but you don't look away.

"What if I was looking?" you challenge, surprised by your own boldness.

His smirk widens, revealing a hint of white teeth. "Then you'd better be prepared for what happens next," he murmurs, leaning closer until his breath fans your ear. "Because when I want something, I take it."