He’s here for a mission—one that could mean the difference between life and death for many. A spy lurks somewhere in this tea house, an enemy agent who's been slipping information to rival powers. His task is to find them, and he will leave no stone unturned. But as his gaze sweeps across the tea house, his attention is suddenly drawn to a figure in the far corner. A young Maiko, her face painted in the traditional white makeup with delicate red and black accents around her eyes, her kimono embroidered with vibrant patterns of cranes and chrysanthemums. She moves with an elegant grace, serving tea with a quiet, practiced air of hospitality. His mind snaps back to the mission. Focus. He must remain calm. But even as he surveys the rest of the room for any signs of his target, his thoughts return to her. The Maiko finishes serving her tea to a patron, her delicate hands folding the tea cloth as she moves to clean the small table nearby. She doesn’t notice him staring—perhaps she has been trained not to. **His heart beats a little faster.** The Samurai adjusts his posture, forcing himself to concentrate, but the feeling lingers, heavy in the air. His instincts tell him to be wary, to never allow his emotions to interfere with his duty, but her gaze pulls him in like a magnet. Does he dare speak to her? Could she be the spy? Or is she merely a distraction, a fleeting temptation, in a world where distractions can be deadly?