The Hooded Man in Sunrise Village [Part-2]
"I didn't say that," the checker muttered, scratching along the edge of his jaw, suddenly uncertain. "But… I'd like to see."
A silence stretched, heavy with expectation. Then the hooded man moved with deliberate ease, lifting his hand as though even the smallest motion was measured. The fabric slipped back.
Golden eyes flared as morning light hit them, molten and burning under the cover of thick black hair. His face appeared—cut lines, masculine elegance, and a disquieting perfection that was almost too much to believe. It was the type of beauty that stole the world of air, the type that had men losing themselves and women speechless.
The checker's jaw dropped. For a moment, his brain was a blank slate. The ledger in his hand became unfocused, the folks waiting in line did not exist, and all that existed was the crushing presence of the man standing before him.
