At that moment, I was inside a spaceship.
Wearing a white sweater, a shirt in a soft shade of pink, brown trousers, and holding a cup of warm lemonade in my hand to soothe my stomach.
On my plate, there was a dessert that looked like a pistachio-flavored New York Roll.
I took a gentle sip and chewed a piece of it while gazing at the starry sky.
In truth, my foot was tapping slightly, a sign of my anxious state, as I was waiting for someone to arrive.
Soon, a knock came at the door, followed by a voice.
"Excuse me, may I come in?" The voice was soft and respectful, completely unlike the usual image of its owner.
"Please," I replied, feeling my heart pound hard in my chest.
The door opened, and a tall, handsome man entered the room. He had the mature appearance of a man in his midlife, with silver-blue eyes and striking hair, carrying a strong masculine aura.
Yet his expression was tense—clearly anxious.
