"Where are you?" My mom asked, her voice a little concerned. "This isn't home."
"I'm at a friend's place," I explained. "He's gone to work, but I'm keeping his grandma company."
"Oh, that's good. Can I speak with her?" my mom asked.
I handed the phone to Grandma, feeling a bit of relief wash over me as I stepped back. It was afternoon where my mom was, and I could hear the distant sound of courtrooms in the background. As Grandma took the phone, she introduced herself, her warm tone easily putting my mom at ease.
The two of them got along surprisingly well, exchanging pleasantries and chatting about family and life in general. It was nice to see Grandma so comfortable, and I could tell that my mom appreciated the connection too.
When the call ended, I noticed a subtle shift in Grandma's demeanor. She was more relaxed with me now, the tension that had lingered earlier melting away. Maybe it was the conversation with my mom, or maybe it was the simple act of opening up a bit, but I could feel that things between us had shifted, even if just a little.
Grandma explained everything to me, and as I listened, a wave of disgust washed over me. I couldn't believe a mother would do that to her own son. It was cruel—unforgivable.
"I'm sorry," I said, at a loss for words.
"It's not your fault, Wang," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.
I exhaled, trying to contain the frustration bubbling inside me. "I'll do what I can for him, but can we keep this between us for now?"
She gave me a small, understanding nod. "Sure," she murmured, yawning slightly.
I glanced at the time and felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry for keeping you up. You should be in bed now," I said gently, walking her back inside.
As soon as Grandma entered, I lingered by the door instead of following. That's when Ji Li's voice broke the silence.
"Are you leaving?" he asked, watching me curiously.
"Yeah," I nodded, then smirked slightly. "But I'll be here tomorrow morning—for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
Ji Li's face lit up. "Okay!" he beamed.
I chuckled, bidding them goodbye before making my way down the quiet street. A few blocks away, my driver was already waiting for me. As I slid into the car, I leaned back with a deep breath.
"Take me home," I said, my mind already racing with what to do next.
The drive was unnecessarily quiet, the kind that made you feel every second pass. I usually didn't mind silence, but tonight, it gave me too much time to think. About Zhan. About his mother. About everything that had unfolded.
When I finally arrived, I stepped inside, and the feeling hit me instantly—big and empty.
The house was pristine, perfectly arranged, just as I had left it. But it lacked something. Warmth. Life. Unlike Grandma's house, where laughter and conversation filled the air, mine felt like a shell—cold and impersonal.
I let out a slow breath and loosened my tie, walking further inside. I had spent years building walls, keeping people at a distance, but tonight, for the first time in a long time, I wondered if I was tired of being alone.
I entered the house and freshened up, shaking off the weight of the conversation with Grandma. My dad had always been protective, so I had military men assigned to guard me. But I never treated them like shadows—I gave them freedom to live their lives, to go wherever they wanted, to do whatever they pleased.
Dressed in simple black trousers and a fitted black T-shirt, I rolled up the sleeves, grabbed my keys, and headed out.
By the time I arrived at the strip club, it was already packed. The neon lights flickered over the entrance, and the deep bass of the music pulsed through the walls. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and perfume, a mix of alcohol and expensive colognes filling the space. The main floor was crowded—men sitting back with drinks in hand, watching dancers move effortlessly under the dim red and purple lights. The laughter, the occasional cheers, and the clinking of glasses blended into the chaotic rhythm of the night.
I made my way to the VIP section, where the real power players sat. As soon as I stepped in, my eyes locked onto Black and Dre, surrounded by a few others. My anger bubbled instantly at the sight of him, but I forced myself to keep it in check. Not now. Not here.
I turned slightly to my right and spotted my people—my trusted circle. When I reached their table, they immediately stood up, offering me a seat. It was a sign of respect, but I never liked the attention.
"Can we be normal until we get out of Jeju Island?" I asked, my tone light but firm.
They nodded, a few chuckles breaking the tension as we laughed about it.
A server passed by, but my eyes scanned the floor, searching for only one person. I wanted Zhan to serve us. Not because I needed a drink, but because I needed to keep an eye on him. Especially with Black here.
"Drinks?" one of the guys leaned in, asking casually.
I smirked slightly, leaning back. "I'd prefer Zhan to serve us. He has a pleasant face... and he needs the tip," I added with a chuckle.
The guy nodded and got up, making his way to the bar. A few minutes later, I spotted him walking back with Zhan trailing behind, carrying drinks in hand. I felt a sense of satisfaction—I got what I wanted.
Zhan approached the table, setting down bottles of champagne and crystal-clear glasses before disappearing momentarily. When he returned, he carried bottles of cognac, the deep amber liquid catching the low lights of the VIP section. The bottle itself was sleek, dark glass with gold lettering. When he placed them on the table, the rich scent of aged oak and vanilla wafted into the air.
Everyone reached for their glasses, pouring their choice of poison, laughter and murmurs filling the space.
I sat near the edge of the booth, the dim lighting casting shadows over my face. I reached over and took one of the caps from my military men, pulling it low over my eyes. I didn't want Zhan to see me, he'd be distracted the whole night.
The night blurred with drinks flowing nonstop and the music pulsing louder, making it easy to lose track of time. But I never let my focus slip. I saw Dre stand and walk out of the VIP section, and without hesitation, I followed him.
As he moved through the crowd, his eyes scanned the floor until they landed on Zhan. With a subtle head gesture, he signaled for Zhan to follow. My jaw clenched as I watched them disappear toward the restrooms. Without thinking twice, I followed, stepping inside but turning my back to them, blending into the background.
"Should I wait for you after work?" Dre's voice was low, but I could still hear the slyness in his tone as he pulled Zhan's hand.
"Not tonight," Zhan whispered, barely audible over the muffled bass from the speakers in the rest room.
"Why?" Dre pressed, his grip tightening.
"Nothing, I just... I don't feel too good," Zhan answered.
"Come on, Zhan," Dre scoffed. "I already told a friend about you, and he's down for tonight. He'll pay any amount."
A slow, boiling rage settled in my chest.
"No, Dre. Not tonight," Zhan repeated, firmer this time.
"Why? Is it because of Wang?" Dre's voice lowered, suspicion creeping into his words. "Black told me he saw you at the convenience store, and when he described who you were with, I knew it was him."
Zhan went quiet for a second before murmuring, "It's not because of him." But his tone—his hesitation—said otherwise.
I frowned. Why would Dre even think Zhan had feelings for me?
Dre let out a sharp breath. "That guy is bad news, Zhan. I told you to stay away from him."
Silence stretched between them for a moment before Zhan finally spoke again, his voice different—colder.
"How much is your friend willing to pay?" he asked.
My grip on the edge of the sink tightened. My whole body tensed at his words. I didn't know if it was anger, frustration, or something else entirely, but I was sure of one thing—I wasn't going to let this happen.
I exhaled slowly, steadying my anger, but it was useless. My fingers clenched around the brim of my cap as I pulled it off, I shove my other hand into my pocket. Then, with measured steps, I turned to face them.
Zhan's back was against the tiled wall, Dre standing too close, his fingers still loosely gripping Zhan's wrist. At the sight of me, Dre's face shifted from smug confidence to unease, while Zhan's expression froze entirely—his eyes widening just a fraction before he quickly masked it.
I let the silence stretch, my gaze locked onto Zhan's. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.
Dre, on the other hand, wasn't as quiet. He straightened his posture, clearing his throat like he was trying to regain some control of the situation. "Wang," he greeted casually, though I could hear the edge in his voice. "Didn't see you there."
I let out a short, humorless chuckle, taking a slow step forward. "That's the problem, Dre. You don't see a lot of things." My voice was calm—too calm. You don't have to manipulate him to do what you want," I say.
His grip on Zhan loosened slightly, but he didn't let go completely. "It's none of your business," he muttered. "You don't own him."
My jaw tightened. "No, I don't." I shifted my gaze back to Zhan, watching every flicker of emotion cross his face. "But I think we both know you don't either."
Zhan's breath hitched just barely, but he stayed quiet.
Dre scoffed, his cocky mask slipping back into place. "Zhan can make his own decisions. Right, Zhan?"
Zhan swallowed, his gaze flickering between us before finally settling on me. His lips pressed together, but he didn't answer.
That silence? It told me everything.
I stepped closer until I was only inches from Dre. He tensed but didn't move. "Here's the thing," I said, my voice still even, still controlled. "If I ever hear you offering him up to your sick little 'friends' again, we're going to have a real problem. And I promise you, Dre, you don't want a problem with me."
Dre let out a nervous chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. "Relax, Wang. You're acting like—"
I didn't let him finish. I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to something only he could hear. "You know who I am, and you know what I can do. So do yourself a favor—walk out of here before I decide I'm done being nice."
Dre hesitated for a second too long, then finally released Zhan's wrist and took a step back. "Whatever, man," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."
He turned and walked out of the restroom, but not before shooting Zhan one last look.
The second the door swung shut behind him, I exhaled through my nose and turned to Zhan. He was still leaning against the wall, his hands clenched into fists, his expression unreadable.
"You okay?" I asked.
His eyes flicked up to meet mine, filled with something I couldn't quite place. Then, barely above a whisper, he said, "Why do you care?"
For a second, I just stared at him. Why do you care?
I didn't have an answer—not one that made sense. Not one that I was ready to say out loud.
Zhan's chest rose and fell, his breathing uneven, lips slightly parted like he was waiting for me to say something. But instead of words, something else took over me. I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
I stepped closer, reaching out, and before I knew what I was doing, I kissed him.
The moment our lips met, it was like something inside me shifted. I had kissed people before—plenty of times. But this? This was different. It wasn't just the heat of the moment or the rush of adrenaline from what had just happened. It was real. It was like I had never kissed anyone before, like every other kiss had been a meaningless blur compared to this.
His lips were soft, hesitant at first, but then—then he kissed me back. Not just a kiss, but the kind that made my head spin. The kind that made my pulse race in a way I hadn't expected. His hands, which had been clenched into fists, slowly unfurled, one of them gripping the front of my shirt like he was afraid I would pull away.
The way he kissed me... it wasn't just a response. It wasn't just going through the motions. He kissed me like he wanted me. Like he needed me.
A low, unsteady breath escaped me as I deepened the kiss, tilting my head slightly, my hand sliding to the side of his face. His skin was warm beneath my fingers, and for the first time in a long time, I felt something—something real.
And that scared me.
I pulled back, just enough to see his face, his lips still slightly swollen from the kiss. His eyes flickered open, dazed, searching mine for something—maybe an explanation, maybe reassurance.
I didn't know what to say. I didn't know why I had done it.
But I knew one thing for sure.
I wanted to do it again.