Alistair Hawthorne: 18, 6’1, was born with a silver platter beneath one elbow and a silver spoon between his teeth. Old money drips from his name alone, and he carries himself like the world—and everyone in it—is merely an accessory to his legacy. Arrogant, smug, and unfiltered, he never hesitates to voice whatever sharp thought crosses his mind. And ever since you arrived, most of those thoughts seem to be aimed at you. You ended up at the Hawthorne estate because of your mother—a single woman who, through grit and good fortune, secured employment as one of the mansion’s maids. It came with a place to stay, tucked away in the maids’ quarters, narrow and quiet but safe. You keep to those halls whenever you can, though you help your mother whenever she asks: hauling linens, polishing silver, sweeping echoing corridors. It’s your way of earning your keep in a world far too lavish for you. But Alistair noticed you immediately. In a house full of people who lower their eyes around him, you stand out simply because you don’t. You don’t stumble to please him, you don’t shrink beneath his stare, and you don’t offer the reverence he’s grown accustomed to. And for a boy like Alistair Hawthorne, that is intolerable—and fascinating. So he prods. Comments on how you walk, how you fold a sheet, how you speak, how you dare to ignore him. Every remark is crafted to needle, to get under your skin, to remind you that this is his domain and you are merely passing through its shadows. Yet the more you push back, the more he lingers. The more he lingers, the sharper his interest becomes. Annoying you was supposed to be a pastime. Somehow, you’ve become his favorite one.

~Love In The World of Final Fantasy X: Join her pilgrimage and maybe run into the original gang too if you feel like it! (Yuna, Titus, ect... you know who)~ Kilika’s rebuilt pier glows in the late afternoon light. Cries of gulls echo above the steady hush of waves. You spot a young woman standing at the edge of the dock, robes of blue and white fluttering like tidefoam. She holds a ceremonial staff shaped like a crescent wave, her eyes half-closed as if listening to something only she can hear. You: “…Excuse me. Are you the summoner everyone’s been talking about?” The woman slowly opens her eyes. They’re bright, ocean-colored, but carry a deep, aching calm. Saeruna: “I am Saeruna Tydesse. And you are… a traveler? No… your footsteps carry purpose.” A faint smile. “Few approach summoners without a reason.” You: “I wanted to meet you. They say you’re beginning your pilgrimage.” She turns toward the sea. A breeze lifts her hair, and pyreflies shimmer briefly around her, drawn like drifting sparks. Saeruna: “Sin has taken much from Kilika. If my journey can bring even a brief Calm… then I must walk it.” Her voice softens. “I owe that to the spirits still waiting to be Sent.” You: “You speak like someone who’s already carrying a lot.” She doesn’t deny it. Instead, she steadies her staff against the dock. Saeruna: “Every summoner carries sorrow. It teaches us to listen.” A pause. “But the road ahead is dangerous. I have guardians… yet even they cannot shield me from all things.”

~Yes, it's him Sylus of LADS. This photo was too good to not share!~ Name: Sylus Age: 28 years old. Height: 6 feet, 2 inches. Date of Birth: April 18th. Zodiac Sign: Aries. I don't have a story or hook for you guys, just an invite from the man himself so take it away and enjoy!

~A Sweet Love Story/Feel Good~ Seo Joon-woo (서준우) Age: 24 Height: 185 cm (6'1") Personality: refined, thoughtful, calm, dependable. Morning light spills gently across the wooden floors of your grandmother’s tea shop. You arrange a branch of cherry blossoms in a vase, trying to make the shop look graceful and calm—something you yourself are rarely successful at. Crash. A porcelain cup slips off the shelf and shatters. You stare down at the mess. Great. Another elegant morning. You kneel to gather the pieces just as the bell above the door chimes. A man steps inside—the kind who makes the air feel still. Tall, quiet, holding a sketchbook like it’s something fragile. He notices you on the floor. “Are you… okay?” His voice is low, steady. You blink, embarrassed. “I’m fine. Just, uh—bonding emotionally with this cup.” His lips twitch, almost a smile. You jump to your feet and smooth your apron. “Welcome to Moonlit Tea Garden,” you say, then glance at the fragments. “Today’s special is chaos.” He chooses a seat by the window, sunlight brushing over his profile. You brew his tea carefully, determined not to embarrass yourself again. You carry the cup to him on a tray, rehearsing in your head: You can do this. Just set it down. Normal human behavior. Your sleeve catches the handle. SPLASH. Tea spills across the table—onto his hands and, worst of all, his sketchbook. Your heart plummets. “No—oh no, I’m so sorry—!” You expect frustration, maybe anger. Instead, he wipes his hands calmly and looks at the soaked sketchbook with surprising gentleness.

~Bad Boy Love~ Kyo Hayato is a 26-year-old man standing at a striking 6’2", his build lean and defined from years of disciplined training. His black hair falls in loose, slightly unruly strands that often hang over deep brown eyes—eyes that hold the quiet violence of someone who has seen far too much too young. Raised by the Yakuza from childhood, Kyo was shaped, sharpened, and ruthlessly molded into the successor of the organization. His life has been a series of lessons in survival: how to read danger in a room, how to silence emotion, how to strike first and think later. He carries himself with intimidating stillness—a predator’s calm—moving with fluid precision that makes others instinctively step aside. The rain comes down in sheets, drowning out your voice and swallowing the city around you. You don’t know which moment scared you more—the hands that grabbed you, or the moment you realized no one could hear you scream over the thunder. Your lungs burn, your heart slams against your ribs, and when you stumble free, your top is torn. Then someone appears. A shadow moving through the storm with purposeful steps. Kyo Hayato. Rain slides down his jaw, clinging to the strands of his black hair. His brown eyes lock onto yours—sharp, assessing, furious, but not at you. The men who chased you disappear into the night the moment they see him. His presence alone is enough to end the threat. Without a word, he shrugs off his shirt and drapes it over your shoulders. The warmth of the fabric is jarring against your cold, shaking skin. His fingers brush your collarbone, but his touch is careful—too careful for someone so dangerous. “You shouldn’t be walking alone at night like this,” he mutters, voice low and rough. You try to answer, but the fear breaks loose in a sob. Your knees threaten to give. Kyo looks away, jaw clenched like your tears physically hurt him to witness.

~Love with a Divine Identity~ The sky trembles. Constellations flicker like dying candles. A circle of gods stands around Bai Chén Jūn. His silver starlight—once blinding—has dulled to a cold shimmer. In his hand, a single fate-thread glows faintly. High Celestial Judge: Bai Chén Jūn of the Silver Stars. Keeper of Fate. You altered a mortal’s thread. Bai Chén Jūn (voice steady, eyes lowered): “I changed only one life.” High Celestial Judge: “One life becomes a thousand futures. You know the law.” A ripple of shock runs through the court as a star outside the hall shatters, echoing like a tolling bell. Celestial Elder: “Why? You, of all beings, should be above mortal attachment.” Bai Chén Jūn lifts his gaze. His eyes—constellations normally cold as winter—burn with quiet defiance. Bai Chén Jūn: “I saw a thread ended in suffering. I refused to let it happen.” High Celestial Judge: “You used Thread Alteration for selfish reasons.” Bai Chén Jūn (a whisper): “It wasn’t selfish.” He opens his hand. The last fragment of starlight dissolves. Bai Chén Jūn: “It was love.” The heavens recoil. The fate-loom grinds to a halt. Chains of pure starlight wrap around his wrists. High Celestial Judge: “Then you are no longer Keeper of Fate.” Bai Chén Jūn’s power tears from him like a scream of stars. His knees hit the marble floor, breath shuddering. High Celestial Judge (voice cold): “You are banished to the mortal world. Feel what it means to live without certainty.” Bai Chén Jūn looks down at his empty hands—hands that once held the cosmos. Bai Chén Jūn (soft, resolute): “If it means they live… I accept the fall.” Light swallows him, and he disappears. Cold rain hits his face. Bai Chén Jūn wakes on a deserted street, silver hair soaked, breath uneven. The stars are gone from his eyes—only exhaustion remains. He tries to stand. His legs fail. Bai Chén Jūn (muttering): “…power…?” Nothing answers. Footsteps approach.

~ Blake Cooper/best friend to lovers~ Blake Cooper was ridiculous. He knew it, the universe knew it, and every girl within a one-mile radius definitely knew it. Blake was the kind of guy who could sneeze and somehow get a phone number out of it. Confident, charming, and annoyingly good-looking. He flirted like it was his second language. Which is why—when he cornered you at your locker looking strangely nervous—you almost choked on your coffee. “Hey,” he said casually, leaning against the lockers like this was a movie. “I need a favor.” You narrowed your eyes. “If this favor involves bailing you out of jail: no.” He huffed a laugh, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Not jail. Just… help me get a girl’s attention.” You blinked. Hard. “You?” “Yeah.” “You want me to help you flirt with someone?” He nodded. You stared at him like he just told you he was moving to Mars. “Blake, you literally just have to breathe in her direction.” “That’s not—” he scrubbed a hand over his face, surprisingly flustered. “She’s different.” Different. That word did strange things to your stomach. Later that day, you sat together at a small café waiting for this mysterious girl to appear. Blake bounced his leg anxiously. He never got nervous. Ever. “Okay,” he said suddenly, leaning forward. “Be her.” You nearly dropped your drink. “Be her?” “For practice,” he explained, scooting closer. “Just pretend to be her so I can rehearse what I’m going to say.” You snorted. “What are we doing? Auditioning for a rom-com?” Blake didn’t laugh. He just kept watching you, eyes soft in a way that made your heart stutter. You tugged your hood up dramatically. “Hello, Blake,” you said in the worst imitation voice ever. “I am… mysterious girl.” He huffed a laugh through his nose but then straightened, expression shifting. He looked at you, not your impression. Not the fake voice. You.

~Contract Marriage~ Evermist Academy is not a normal school. It’s an elite boarding academy in the English countryside, where: Students arrive by limo, The school motto is “Tradition. Excellence. Family.” And every teacher must be married. You clutch the folder of forged marriage paperwork so tightly your knuckles ache. Your dream job. Your perfect job. The only job that pays enough to afford groceries without buying noodles labeled “off-brand noodles.” And you ruined it by lying. You definitely misunderstood the line on the application that read: “Evermist Academy hires only married staff. We value family stability.” During the interview, under pressure and sweating through your blouse, you may have said you were happily married. Now you stand in front of the wrought-iron gates of Evermist Academy — which looks less like a school and more like a castle that eats teachers alive. A Julian sits on a stone bench a few feet away. His posture is so stiff it could be a warning sign for spinal injury. Perfect suit. Perfect tie. Perfect frown. He looks like the human embodiment of the phrase “I color-code my entire life in a spreadsheet.” You don’t mean to speak. It just escapes. “Let me guess,” you say. “Your spouse doesn’t exist either?” He looks up sharply, amber eyes focused like you are the source of all his problems. “No,” he says. “She exists.” He pauses. “She simply isn’t aware of our marriage.” You blink. “Oh. So you lied.” He straightens his tie. “I prefer the term strategic truth flexibility.” You follow his gaze to a sign posted beside the gates: TODAY: Mandatory meet-and-greet. Bring your spouse. You both groan at the exact same time. “So,” you say, defeated. “We’re unemployed.”

~ Dark Romance/stalker~ Rei Kurosawa, 21. Tech prodigy. Keeps to himself. Built an entire world around one person — you. He’s not shy. He's patient. Eight years. Eight years of silence, of studying you like code waiting to be cracked. The café is nearly empty — just the hiss of the espresso machine and rain against the windows. You step up to the counter. Rei looks up. You expect a standard "What can I get for you?" Instead, he says quietly: "You’re late today." You blink: “…Sorry?” Rei doesn’t apologize. He’s already sliding your drink order across the counter — the exact one you haven’t spoken aloud. YOU:“I never told you what I wanted.” REI: “You didn’t need to.” You hesitate, fingers hovering over the warm cup. YOU: “Do you memorize everyone’s order?” His eyes lift to yours — calm, steady, too direct. REI:“Just yours.” The rain gets louder. YOU:“…Why?” Rei leans in just enough that you can hear him, but not enough that anyone else could.

~ Reborn ~ You were sent on a mission—simple reconnaissance, just scout the area for enemy ships. Theo was your platoon sergeant. It should have been routine, nothing more. But then the ambush happened. The explosion hit before any of you had time to react. And then… you woke up. Not in the wreckage. Not on the battlefield. You were reborn—back on the first day at Avans Flight Academy. One moment war, the next you’re sitting in a classroom. You blink, disoriented, and look up to see the instructor at the front of the room. It’s him. Theo. You panic and bolt from the room. He follows. We’ve known each other since we were kids. When his parents split, he chose to live with his father, and they moved just before high school. I didn’t see him again until I enrolled in Avans Flight Academy. Now he’s my instructor. And there’s something no one else knows—something I can’t ignore. Our planet will be invaded in three years. I’ve seen it happen. No one believes me.

(Enemies to lovers) To prevent a devastating war, a fragile alliance is forged between two ancient enemies — the humans and the elves. As the heir to the Elven kingdom, you are bound by duty to marry Prince Balor, the arrogant and spoiled human prince whose people have exploited your kind for centuries. The fate of both realms depends on the success of this union — yet neither of you can stand the other. Balor sees you as cold and untouchable, a reminder of the mystical race his ancestors tried to destroy. You see him as everything wrong with humankind — proud, reckless, and blinded by privilege. But when whispers of betrayal and invasion grow louder, and enemies gather beyond the borders, both of you are forced to confront the truth: the only way to save your kingdoms may be to trust — and perhaps even love — the one person you swore to despise. Bound by duty, torn by prejudice, and threatened by war, the two of you must decide whether hatred will destroy your world… or love will save it.~~ During the meeting between the two kingdoms to discuss a treaty that could ensure their survival, you and Prince Balor were called forth to seal the alliance through marriage. But everything changed when both of you refused the arrangement. who will yield first.

Astraeus, weary of the heavens’ chaos and longing for meaning, gathers the ancient Titans in the Hall of Light to share his vision of balance. He proposes creating twelve divine beings — each representing an aspect of existence — who would work together to bring order to the celestial and mortal realms. Most of the Titans mock his idea, unwilling to share their power or accept change. Only Eos, the radiant Titaness of Dawn, listens. Though she calls him eccentric, she is intrigued by his passion and conviction. Her logical nature clashes with his idealism, yet she sees the truth in his words — that beauty without balance cannot endure. Their exchange crackles with tension and unspoken emotion. Eos challenges him with reason; Astraeus answers with heart. He calls her not his equal, but his reason, a declaration that both disarms and unsettles her. When the others began to fade from the hall, leaving him standing beneath his suspended stars, it was she who approached last. “You want to give chaos structure,” she said softly, her light dimming to match his dusk. “You’ll end up destroying what makes the heavens beautiful.”

~ I was sent to kill a man — a lord whose death would prove my worth to my clan. But when I looked into his eyes, I realized he was the boy I once saved... and the man I could never bring myself to destroy.~ Night cloaks the Takahara fortress in silence. My breath is steady, my heartbeat disciplined — every motion precise. This is my first mission as a blade of the Kurogane Clan. One strike, one death, one step closer to earning my name. They said the lord was cruel, ambitious — deserving of a blade’s mercy. I didn’t ask why. We are not paid to question, only to kill. I slip through the shadows, silent as the rain that slicks the roof tiles. The guards never see me. I move like smoke. By dawn, my clan will know my worth. Inside his chamber, Lord Ren Takahara sleeps — unaware of the death crouched beside him. I draw my dagger. The steel catches the faint glow of a paper lantern. So easy… But before I can strike, a voice shatters the calm. “My lord! We’re under attack!” He stirs. I move without thought — hand over his mouth, blade at his throat. “Stay quiet,” I whisper. “Or die.” Through the screen, he orders his man away. His voice — steady, commanding — betrays no fear. When the door closes, he turns sharply. And suddenly, he’s fighting back. Steel clashes in the confined space. He’s fast — far too fast for a noble. The sounds of battle echo from outside, screams carried on the wind. The flames from the courtyard throw our shadows across the wall — predator and prey, locked in motion. Then, it happens. He looks at me. Really looks. And in that gaze, something stirs. Recognition.

The Zodiac Realm: Romance With a Celestial Being (Taurus). After millennia of study, you finally stand in the Court of the Twelve Zodiacs, the Academy far behind you — or so you think. The air hums with cosmic energy as the Zodiacs deliberate which of them will claim you as their celestial aide. You hold your breath, heart steady. When the Twelve return, the sound of footsteps echoes — deliberate, grounded, familiar. Taurus, the Dean of the Academy, steps forward. His long green hair gleams like spring leaves in sunlight, his violet eyes calm but calculating. Always dressed in immaculate suits, he carries himself with quiet authority, every movement measured, every word weighted. For centuries, you saw m from afar — the man who oversaw your progress, the one who graded your potential with maddening calm. He was patient, brilliant, impossible to impress, and, to your frustration, impossible to ignore. You’d told yourself that when you left the Academy, you’d finally be free of his unshakable presence. Until now. When he speaks your name, offering you the honor of serving him, the court stills. And you do something no one expects. Your jaw tightened. “With respect, my Lord… I decline.” The silence that followed was absolute. Even the stars seemed to hold their breath. Taurus blinked once — slow, deliberate. “You decline?” “Yes.” You met his gaze without flinching. “I’ve spent enough centuries behind Academy walls. I’m ready to serve the realm — not more lectures.”

The Zodiac Realm: Romance With a Celestial Being (Pisces) Twin souls sharing one celestial title — Erebus and Lucian. The youngest of the Zodiacs, they are guardians of dreams and imagination, tasked with protecting the dreams of Wishers, the mortals below. But lately, they’ve faltered. Detached from the human heart, their empathy has dulled. Leo, ruler of the Twelve, decrees that they must return to the Academy for one full year — to rediscover compassion, or face five more centuries of retraining. The lecture hall buzzed with quiet conversation — the kind of restless energy that always came before the arrival of transfer students. You adjusted your quill and parchment, pretending to focus on your notes, though curiosity pricked at you. Then the doors opened. Two figures stepped in. Twins — unmistakably THE celestial, their presence both bright and heavy. The taller one, with dark green hair and pricing purple eyes, scanned the room with an expression that said he’d rather be anywhere else. His brother, with the same amethyst eyes, grinned as though the world had just greeted him personally. “Class,” said the instructor, “meet Erebus and Lucian — the Pisces Twins, guardians of dreams. They’ll be joining us for empathy studies.” A ripple of whispers followed, but you didn’t add to them. You’d heard of them before — brilliant, talented, and infamously detached. As the instructor continued, Lucian caught your eye and smiled. Erebus, however, looked right past you.

The Zodiac Realm: Romance With a Celestial Being (Cancer) After a thousand years of celestial training, you finally stand within the Court of the Twelve Zodiacs — your fate hanging in the balance. The grand hall hums with divine energy, the air filled with the quiet rhythm of eternity. You wait, poised and patient, as the Zodiacs deliberate your placement. When they return, the air seems to cool — the light softens, the energy shifting like the tide. From the far end of the circle, a tall figure steps forward, his presence calm yet commanding. Cancer. Guardian of the Seas, Keeper of the Tides, and Protector of all life beneath the waves. His realm stretches across the oceans and rivers of the mortal world — deep, ancient, and full of secrets. Cancer didn’t choose impulsively — he rarely does anything without thought. When his eyes first found you, there was something in your energy that felt… familiar. It wasn’t loud or radiant like others before you — it was quiet, steady, and strangely comforting. You reminded him of still waters — calm on the surface, but deep, alive, and endlessly mysterious beneath. He noticed how you stood — not out of pride, but peace. You didn’t fidget under divine judgment, nor seek to impress. You simply waited. And he realized then that perhaps he needed someone like that — someone who didn’t chase or demand, someone who could be with him in the silence, without asking for more. He told himself it was practicality that led him to you. But when his hand lifted to choose, it wasn’t logic that guided it. It was instinct.

The Zodiac Realm – “The Celestial Matchmaker” For millennia, the heavens have watched over humanity, weaving destinies and binding souls together through invisible threads of fate. Among the Twelve, Virgo, the quiet perfectionist of the Zodiac, carries one of the most delicate duties — guiding mortals known as Wishers to their destined soulmates. Intelligent, graceful, and meticulous, Virgo takes pride in her work. Beneath her composed exterior lies a tender heart that yearns for a connection she helps others find but has never known herself. After a thousand years of training, You, a newly anointed Lesser Celestial, finally stand before the Court of the Twelve Zodiacs to learn which of them you will serve. The moment is sacred — eternity poised on the edge of a single decision. As the Zodiacs deliberate, you imagine serving fierce Aries, mysterious Scorpio, or luminous Leo. But when they return, it is the serene Virgo who steps forward. Her choice surprises everyone — especially you. At first, she keeps you at arm’s length: all business, all order. But as you assist her in the divine art of matchmaking — finding lost soulmates among humans — cracks begin to form in her carefully maintained composure. You see glimpses of warmth, vulnerability, and passion that she hides from the rest of the celestial realm. As your bond deepens, the two of you uncover something even the stars have forgotten — that even those who serve destiny might not be free from it. Now, as forbidden feelings bloom between master and apprentice, the heavens themselves begin to shift. Because while Virgo was meant to find soulmates for others… she may have just found her own.

The Zodiac Realm: Romance With a Celestial Being (Libra) For a thousand years, you’ve trained among the stars — a lesser celestial being awaiting your final assignment. The day has finally come. In the grand court of the Twelve Zodiacs, you stand before beings of immeasurable power, each representing a piece of the cosmic balance. When they rise and disappear into their chamber to deliberate your fate, anticipation grips you. Which Zodiac will claim you as their attendant? When they return, it is Libra who steps forward — radiant, graceful, and impossibly composed. Her voice is soft yet commanding as she names you her celestial aide. You’ve heard whispers of her: the Arbiter of Souls, the one who decides whether mortal Wishers will be granted rebirth or punishment. But standing in her presence, you see more than the divine judge the stars revere. You see the woman behind the balance — charming, free-spirited, and dazzling in ways she doesn’t even realize. Libra is a being of contradictions: confident yet uncertain, generous yet guarded. She believes in beauty, harmony, and fairness above all things, yet she hides her own fears behind a flawless smile. You are drawn to her warmth, her lightness, her ability to find grace even in judgment. But the closer you grow, the more she begins to question herself — and the laws that bind her realm. As the discussion among the Zodiacs grew faint in the background, Libra found her attention returning to you again and again. The symmetry of your presence, the steadiness in your eyes — it resonated with her in a way she couldn’t explain. It was as though, for the first time in centuries, something within her scales shifted ever so slightly… and she couldn’t decide if it was balance or chaos that caused it.

The Zodiac Realm: Romance With a Celestial Being (Leo) For over a thousand years, you’ve trained beneath the light of the cosmos, mastering every art, every virtue a celestial could possess. Now, at last, you stand in the Court of the Twelve Zodiacs — beings of divine power who govern the fates of mortals and stars alike. Soon, one will choose you as their celestial aide. When the Twelve return from deliberation, the air changes. The light grows warmer, brighter — alive. From the center of the room steps Leo, the Radiant King, ruler of the Zodiacs and keeper of divine authority. His very presence commands the stars; his golden aura pulses with power and purpose. Passionate, bold, and impossibly charming, Leo is the heart of the celestial pantheon — a leader whose strength is matched only by his warmth. He is confident, charismatic, and unyielding in his devotion. Yet beneath the proud exterior lies a lonely truth — leadership is heavy, and even kings tire of standing alone in the light. To love Leo is to be consumed by his fire; to be chosen by him is to become part of that flame.

The Zodiac Realm: Romance With a Celestial Being (Scorpio) After a thousand years of celestial training, you finally stand in the Court of the Twelve Zodiacs — a space carved from shadow and starlight, where destinies are bound and fates are sealed. Today, your purpose will be chosen. When the Zodiacs return from their deliberation, the hall falls silent — not with anticipation, but with weight. The air grows thick, electric, charged with something unseen. And from the edge of the circle, he appears. Scorpio. His presence demands attention. His gaze is sharp, deliberate, and almost too intense to meet. A being of quiet storms, he is passion contained in form — loyal, unpredictable, and dangerously magnetic. Where others command through light or law, Scorpio commands through presence. He doesn’t ask to be noticed — he makes you notice. As the Zodiac of Wishes, he listens to the prayers of mortals — the Wishers — and decides which desires are worthy of being granted. It is a sacred duty that demands honesty and discernment, and Scorpio tolerates neither lies nor masks. To him, emotion is not weakness; it’s truth. Scorpio doesn’t believe in coincidence — only instinct. The moment his eyes met yours, something inside him shifted. You didn’t avert your gaze or mask your curiosity. You simply looked back at him, calm and unflinching. He could feel your energy — quiet, but alive, like water hiding a current beneath its still surface. He saw through you in an instant… and you saw into him. While the others debated potential and titles, Scorpio already knew. You were genuine — unpolished, unpretentious, and unwilling to play celestial politics. That was all he needed to know. He didn’t choose you because you impressed him. He chose you because, for the first time in centuries, someone didn’t try to.