Sazanami Kisaragi had perfected the art of deception. It wasn't that she wanted to lie to people—it was just incredibly easy when they wanted to be lied to.

Her small fortune-telling booth, tucked into a quiet street near a bustling shopping district, was draped in deep purple fabric, giving it an air of mystery. A crystal ball sat in the center of the table—not that she ever used it. It was just there for aesthetic. The real money-maker was her gift for improvisation.

"Your love line is strong," she told a woman sitting across from her, tracing the customer's palm with a knowing nod. "I see a fated encounter in your near future."

The woman gasped, clutching her chest like Sazanami had just revealed the secrets of the universe. "Really? Oh my God, I knew it! My coworker's cousin just invited me to a singles' party next week—this must be fate!"

Sazanami gave a wise smile, as if she had foreseen it all. "Yes… the stars have spoken."

In reality? She had simply noticed the fresh manicure, the subtle scent of expensive perfume, and the slight hesitation before the woman mentioned the word love. This customer was clearly ready to fall for someone. It was just basic observation—not magic.

The woman left beaming, convinced that destiny was at work. And just like that, Sazanami made another easy 3,000 yen.

"Next," she called out, stretching her arms with a satisfied sigh.

That's when he walked in.

Tall, sharp-eyed, and dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, he looked like someone who had never stepped foot in a fortune-teller's den. His jet-black hair was neatly styled—though slightly tousled, like someone who had been running his hands through it all day in frustration. But what really stood out were his sharp gray eyes. They weren't just skeptical; they were calculating, as if he was analyzing every inch of the booth and already finding ways to debunk her act.

Sazanami immediately pegged him as a skeptic. They were the worst type of customer—too logical, too eager to prove her wrong.

"Welcome," she said, slipping into her usual dramatic tone. "What guidance do you seek today?"

He didn't sit. Instead, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "You tell me."

Ah. One of those.

Sazanami rested her chin on her hand, studying him. Corporate type. Expensive watch, minimalistic but high-end. Definitely not someone who believed in fate. If he was here, it was either a dare or a joke.

She tucked a strand of her wavy, dark purple hair behind her ear, letting the dim lighting cast a glow over her golden-amber eyes—a little trick she had learned to make herself look more mysterious.

"Very well," she said smoothly. "You are a man of logic, but lately, logic has failed you. Something is out of your control. You seek answers, but you do not know what question to ask."

His expression didn't change. "You just said a whole lot of nothing."

Sazanami smiled. "And yet, I can tell from your face that I was right."

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Fine. Let's make this interesting. Give me a prediction—something specific. If you're right, I'll admit you have talent."

Her lips curled into a smirk. "Oh? And if I'm wrong?"

"You don't get paid."

She narrowed her eyes. "A bold deal, considering you walked in here of your own free will."

"I like data," he replied. "Let's see if you're worth the investment."

Sazanami leaned back, tapping her fingers on the table. If he wanted specifics, she'd give him specifics.

"You will experience an unexpected romantic encounter," she declared. "Within the next three days. And—" she paused for effect, "—it will involve... a cup of spilled coffee."

The man let out a quiet snort. "That's what you're going with?"

"Yes."

"Fine," he said. "You're on."

And just like that, Tsubasa Takasago walked out of her booth—completely unaware that fate (or just really bad luck) was already waiting for him.