I arrived at the amusement park just as the sky turned deep orange, the last rays of the sun casting long shadows over the rides and booths.
Isabella stood near the entrance, effortlessly captivating the attention of everyone around her.
The sleek midnight blue dress she wore hugged her curves in all the right places, the fabric struggling to contain her ample breasts, which subtly bounced with each breath.
The deep neckline teased just enough to be alluring without being overt, while the snug fit around her waist accentuated the smooth, elegant dip of her figure.
The slit running up her dress revealed long, shapely legs, toned yet feminine, with each step hinting at the strength beneath her elegance.
Her hips swayed slightly as she shifted her weight, the dress clinging to her round, full backside in a way that made it impossible not to notice.
Her deep brown eyes sparkled with intelligence and intrigue beneath the park's neon glow, framed by thick lashes that made them even more mesmerizing.
Her lips, painted a soft yet tempting shade of red, curled into a knowing smile as she met my gaze.
Her wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, some strands playfully resting against her exposed collarbone, adding to the effortless allure she carried. Every inch of her exuded confidence, sensuality, and a quiet power that made her all the more captivating.
"You're right on time," she said with a small smile, tilting her head as she looked at me.
"I'm always on time," I replied smoothly, stepping closer. "A man who makes a lady wait isn't worth much. As it is, why waste time making a beautiful lady like you wait when there's so much more we can do."
She chuckled at that, her lips curving into a genuine smile. "Charming and punctual. You're off to a good start."
I extended my hand, and she took it without hesitation, I pulled her closer to me, my hand placed on her waist.
Leading her to the car, I opened the door for her, making sure she was settled before getting in myself. As I started driving, she glanced at me curiously.
The car hummed as we left the city, streetlights fading behind us. Isabella fiddled with her seatbelt, her neon-green blazer glowing faintly in the dashboard light.
She'd agreed to this date after one awkward meeting at her amusement park (where I'd been with Jin Ah and was about to shut her amusement park after one week of its opening) and a late-night flirting session that led to a striptease by her which ended with her sending a laughing emoji and "You're trouble."
She cleared her throat. "You know, this is only our third conversation. For all I know, you're a serial killer." She said trying to subside the nervousness she had.
I kept my eyes on the road, smirking. "Serial killers don't drive cars with their targets sitting besides them with people around. Too obvious."
She snorted. "They also don't wear that much cologne."
"Complaining already?" I glanced at her. "We haven't even gotten to the kidnapping part."
She fake-gasped, clutching her chest. "Are you kidnapping me?"
"Only if you keep sassing me." I turned onto a dirt road, trees swallowing the moonlight. "Relax. If I wanted, you would already be kidnapped by now, having you dead would be a waste, after all wouldn't it be a waste to have such a beautiful lady like you dead."
She laughed, shoulders loosening. "Fair. But if this ends with me in a ditch, I'm haunting your Tinder profile."
The car climbed a steep hill, gravel crunching, until we reached a flat outcrop. The city glittered below like a spilled jewelry box.
A small table sat under a string of fairy lights, two chairs facing the view, a covered dish and wine already set.
Isabella froze, hand on the door. "How…? This place isn't on maps."
"Perks of being a hunter. Found it during a dungeon raid." I opened her door, offering my hand. "Come on. The food's getting cold."
She hesitated, then took my hand, her palm slightly sweaty. "You're… oddly prepared for a third conversation. What's your plan, mister?"
I pulled out her chair, smirking. "Relax. My evil plan's simple—drug your wine and have my way with you."
She clutched her chest, gasping dramatically. "Scandalous! I knew I should've brought my pepper spray!"
"Too late." I leaned in, "The wine's already spiked. You'll wake up tomorrow… starring in a scandalous movie I made you feature in."
Isabella kicked my shin, grinning "Monster! At least make it go viral."
I deadpanned, "Oh, don't worry darling it will. Hashtag ViralRooftopScandal."
Isabella snorts, almost spitting wine, "You're awful."
I grinned, "And you're still drinking the spiked wine."
I lifted the dish cover—golden roasted veggies piled over creamy garlic risotto, drizzled with herb oil, and chocolate-dipped strawberries on the side. Her eyes widened. "You cook?"
"Yes." I poured wine in my glass, nodding at her plate. "You should feel lucky. I don't cook for just anyone. Eat. Before I have to feed you."
She stabbed a strawberry, pointing it at me. "You'd hate feeding me. I chew with my mouth open."
"Try it and lose dessert privileges."
She laughed but obeyed, taking a bite. A moan slipped out. "God, This is good. I haven't eaten anything that wasn't gas station sushi or a protein bar in… years, probably."
I leaned back, smug. "Told you."
She speared a roasted mushroom, eyeing me. "Seriously, though. How'd you even know I'd like this? We've talked, like, three times."
"Lucky guess." I swirled my wine, shrugging. "Or maybe I'm just that good at satisfying women." I said with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes but kept eating, her shoulders relaxing. After a few quiet minutes, she sighed. "Okay, fine. You win. This is… way too amazing."
I smirked. "You say that like it's a crime."
"It is. Now I'll have standards." She gestured at the Ferris wheel glowing in the distance. "Can't live off stale popcorn forever."
I followed her gaze. "Why do you live off stale popcorn? Why… I have rarely seen someone your age being so dedicated towards an amusement park? Why all this?"
Her smile faded, just for a second. "It's… a long story."
I nudged the chocolate-dipped strawberries toward her. "We've got time."
She set her fork down, fingers tracing the rim of her wineglass. "When I was seven, my dad took me to this rundown carnival. He won me a stuffed bear by shooting water guns at clowns—the only thing he ever won me."
Her smile flickered, brittle. "He'd buy me cotton candy, let me ride the Tilt-A-Whirl ten times in a row. For those hours, he wasn't… him. Just a dad. Then he'd disappear for weeks, come back smelling like whiskey and regret."
The city lights blurred below as she spoke. "After he left for good, I'd sneak into parks at night. Slept under the Ferris wheel with that stupid bear.
The gears, the lights, the rhythm of it… It never changed. Not like people." She met my eyes, fierce now. "I promised myself I'd build a place where kids could count on the chaos.
Where the worst thing that happens is spilling soda on your shoes." I stayed quiet, letting her words hang.
"Bought my first ride at twenty-three—a broken bumper car pile from a junkyard. I taught myself to weld by watching YouTube videos. Burned my hands, blew two paychecks on parts, slept in the car."
She laughed, sharp and proud. "When it finally worked, I rode those bumper cars alone at 3 a.m., screaming my head off. Felt like… like I'd won."
Her voice softened. "Now, when I see a kid drag their parents to my Ferris wheel? That's the dream. Letting them steal a few perfect hours before life gets… complicated."
I nodded. "And the husband?"
She snorted, twirling her wineglass. "What husband? Romance and roller coasters don't mix." Her tone was light, but her knuckles whitened around the stem.
"Dated a guy in college—Mr. 'Parks Are for Manipulating Kids.' He wanted me to study business, wear blazers, and host dinner parties. Lasted six months."
She shrugged, too sharp to be casual. "He sells insurance in Nebraska now. Probably lectures people about 'safe investments' at barbecues."
I raised an eyebrow. "No one since?"
She stabbed a strawberry, avoiding my gaze. "Tried. Dated a mechanic once. He'd leave greasy love notes in my toolbox. Cute, right?" A bitter laugh.
"Until he asked me to sell the park. Said it was 'too much'—too loud, too late at night, to me. So I chose the park." Her voice cracked, just once.
She covered it with a sip of wine. "Turns out, most men want a girlfriend who's home by six. Not one who's elbow-deep in gear oil, yelling at a carousel and managing such a big park."
The wind tugged at her hair as she stared at the Ferris wheel. "Had a fling with a musician last year. He wrote a song about me.
'The Woman Who Married a Merry-Go-Round.'" She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn't reach them. "Charming, huh?"
I nudged her foot under the table. "His loss."
She met my eyes, defiant. "Damn right. The park's my soulmate. Doesn't whine when I work late."
"Or steal the covers," I added.
She laughed, sudden and bright. "Exactly. Plus, the Ferris wheel never forgets my birthday."
She leaned back, swirling her wine. "The park's never once complained about my snoring, either."
I smirked. "Maybe because it is the park that's snoring. Ever heard that Ferris wheel creak at midnight?"
She kicked my shin, grinning. "Hey! That's just… character. Adds charm."
"Charm," I repeated, deadpan. "Right. Next you'll tell me the bumper cars are couples therapy."
"They are!" She leaned forward, eyes sparkling now. "Nothing bonds people like crashing into walls together. Trust me, I've seen first dates go from awkward to engaged in ten minutes."
I stole a strawberry off her plate. "So that's your master plan? Lure me in the amusement park, force me onto bumper cars, 'accidentally' lock me in?"
She snatched the strawberry back, popping it into her mouth. "Maybe. Scared?"
"Terrified." I held her gaze, voice dropping. "I hear the Tunnel of Love's been… lonely lately."
She froze, cheeks pink, then snorted. "Don't push it, Undertaker. That tunnel's for winners."
"Good thing I always win." I smirked, a smug look on my face.
She rolled her eyes, but her foot brushed mine under the table—and stayed there. "Keep dreaming."
The city lights blurred below us, the Ferris wheel spinning slow and steady in the distance. She didn't pull away.
Game on.
After Dinner:
We packed the empty dishes into the trunk, her hip bumping mine as she handed me a stack of plates. "Careful," I warned, smirking. "Break one, and you're cleaning the Tunnel of Love toilets tomorrow."
She fake-gasped. "You'd make me scrub toilets? Chivalry's dead."
"Nope. Just selective." I snapped the trunk shut, nodding to the blanket in her arms. "Spread that out. Stars don't watch themselves."
She unfurled the blanket with a dramatic flick, flopping down and patting the spot beside her. "Come on, Undertaker. Show me your astronomy skills."
I lay next to her, arms folded behind my head. "See that cluster?" I pointed to a smudge of light. "That's Orion. Looks like a dude with a belt. Probably stole it from someone."
She squinted. "Looks like a blob."
"Use your imagination, Highlighter." I traced the shape slowly. "Three stars for the belt. Two for shoulders. Dagger on his hip."
She snorted. "Dagger? More like a butter knife."
"Fine. Orion, the guy who really likes toast." I shifted, pointing north. "There's the Big Dipper. Looks like a ladle. Or a pregnant giraffe. Your call."
She laughed, shoving my arm. "You're terrible at this."
"Says the woman who thinks Ferris wheels are soulmates." I nudged her. "See the bright one? That's Sirius. Dog star. Supposedly brings chaos."
She smirked. "Explains why it's right above your head."
The sky sprawled above us, stars prickling through the dark. I turned to her. "So. Park's yours. Dreams achieved. How's it feeling?"
A/N: If my story brought even a hint of a smile to your face, drop a comment—I'd love to hear it! Knowing I brightened someone's day fuels my creativity! My only goal is to make people smile and find happiness in this dull world. Not to mention I want to reach Oda sensei's level of storytelling.
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