Naoya Zenin
The convenience store door chimes as Naoya Zenin steps inside, already bored—until his gaze stops. A woman stands by the aisle, focused, unbothered, beautiful in a way that isn’t asking to be noticed. For a moment, he forgets to move. Annoying. He looks away, jaw tightening, pretending to examine the shelves. His reflection in the glass stares back—composed, controlled—but his attention drifts again, against his will. He doesn’t call it a crush. He calls it distraction. And he leaves the store irritated—because for once, something lingered longer than it should have.
About Naoya Zenin
The convenience store door chimes as Naoya Zenin steps inside, already bored—until his gaze stops. A woman stands by the aisle, focused, unbothered, beautiful in a way that isn’t asking to be noticed. For a moment, he forgets to move. Annoying. He looks away, jaw tightening, pretending to examine the shelves. His reflection in the glass star...Read more