Chapter 69
Realizing that Seungjo had actually played along with his absurd lie made Yeonho burst into a sudden, breathless laugh. But the sound died in his throat the second Seungjo pulled back, his face a wall of pure, icy fury.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" Yeonho held up both hands in surrender.
"Don't get mad, please."
"Get off me."
"Okay. Okay! I'm getting off."
Yeonho unclasped his arms from around Seungjo's neck and scrambled off his lap, settling back into the passenger seat.
The call on the dash was still on hold; Hana had been left waiting for nearly ten minutes.
Seungjo, refusing to keep her waiting a second longer, unmuted the microphone.
Yeonho quickly tried to straighten himself out, but the fabric of his shirt was hopelessly shredded along the collar.
He cast a sideways glance at Seungjo's tailored suit jacket.
'Ugh. He's going to murder me if I ask for it.'
Yet, Yeonho was going to ask anyway.
There was no way he was stepping out onto a busy city street looking like he'd just been wrestled to the ground.
Noticing Yeonho's hesitation to open the passenger door, Seungjo covered the phone's speaker with his palm and turned a lethal glare onto him.
"Get out. Don't make me say it twice."
"But… my clothes are ruined."
"You did that to yourself. Out. Now."
"I can't walk around outside looking like a lunatic!" Yeonho pressed, keeping his voice to an urgent whisper.
"Just let me borrow your jacket and I'll leave instantly. I won't pester you, I won't annoy you—I swear. I have somewhere I need to be."
Seungjo went dead still for a long, heavy beat. Then, with a harsh, frustrated movement, he ripped off his suit jacket and shoved it directly into Yeonho's face.
"Out."
"Okay, okay! Geez…"
Yeonho quickly slipped his arms into the sleeves of the oversized designer jacket, pulled it snug over his torn collar, grabbed his belongings, and stepped out of the sports car.
The second his feet hit the pavement, Seungjo slammed the passenger door shut and hit the gas, the engine roaring as the car tore down the highway without a single backward glance.
"Asshole," Yeonho grumbled, adjusting the heavy lapels as he watched the taillights disappear into the city traffic.
"After I agreed to all his ridiculous terms for work, he just dumps me on the curb and doesn't even offer a ride home."
He checked his watch, clicking his tongue. His original timeline was severely delayed.
He had only a few hours left before the dinner with Hana and all five male leads.
By rights, he should have already been deep inside the club, hunting down the sub-human scum who had assaulted him years ago.
Instead, Seungjo had dragged out the entire afternoon with his working amd promotional demands.
Guess I'll just vent all my frustration on those scumbags at the club," Yeonho muttered, turning away from the main road.
"They better prepare themselves."
Not wanting to waste another second standing on the sidewalk, Yeonho flagged down a passing taxi, sliding into the back and holding up his phone to show the driver the destination.
The driver took one look at the address, gave a subtle nod, and pulled into traffic in complete silence.
The location was clearly not the kind of place normal citizens frequented, and the driver was smart enough not to ask questions.
The ride was surprisingly short.
When the cab pulled up to the curb, Yeonho stepped out and stared, genuinely confused.
It was a remarkably strange place for Seungjo's underground club to be hidden.
Instead of a sprawling, high-end nightlife district, he was standing at the edge of an older, rustic town square.
The surrounding buildings looked aged, their brick facades worn, and the streets were lined with casual, modest establishments.
The atmosphere was bright and peaceful.
People drifted in and out of local eateries, street vendors sold steaming food from wooden carts, and the air was filled with laughter, casual chatter, and the sound of teenagers chasing each other playfully.
It looked like a neighborhood built entirely for families to relax, eat, and spend time together.
A few teenagers zipped past Yeonho on skateboards, while elderly couples strolled by holding skewers of hot fish cakes.
Yeonho stood on the sidewalk as a cool breeze carried the savory scent of street food past him.
"Fresh fish cakes! Ahh, that smell is gonna make me hungry..."
Yeonho slapped both palms against his cheeks to snap himself out of it.
"Focus, Yeonho," he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
"You can buy food later. Right now, you need to figure out how to get inside the club. But first... where the hell is it?"
He scanned the street, searching for any sign of neon lights or heavy bass—anything that screamed THIS IS THE CLUB. PEOPLE PARTY AND GET DRUNK INSIDE.
But there was nothing.
He walked down the main street, scanning for any building that looked like a commercial nightlife spot, but nothing stood out.
Everything looked completely ordinary.
"Hurry up, we're going inside the club now," a woman's voice called out from a few feet away, talking loudly into her phone.
'Did she just say club?'
Yeonho immediately fell into step behind her, tracking her as she accelerated her pace down a narrow, shadowed alleyway branching off the main street.
When she finally stopped, Yeonho pulled back into the shadows of an overhang, staring at the venue.
It was clearly a traditional tavern-style bar from the outside—not a club with heavy bass or a packed dance floor.
The woman stopped in front of the guards, ending her call.
Yeonho slowed his pace, leaning against a stack of wooden crates where he could listen without drawing attention.
"What about the others? Are they ready?" the woman asked breathlessly.
"Yeah," the bouncer grunted. "Just waiting on you and one more member. Get inside and change, you've got ten minutes left."
"Dammit! One outfit is missing," the woman cursed, rubbing her temples.
"How can they lose costume pieces when they've been doing this routine for so long?!"
'Routine?'
Yeonho's eyes narrowed.
'Is this what I think it is?'
"I'll get going." The woman bowed quickly.
"Wish me luck."
"Good luck."
She slipped past the heavy doors while the security team remained posted outside, checking the credentials of incoming guests.
'How do I pass them? '
Yeonho thought, biting his inner lip.
'I'll be damned if I get kicked out before I even step foot inside.'
Just as he struggled to think of an angle, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the mouth of the alley.
A young girl came sprinting toward the entrance, clutching a large leather garment bag to her chest and bumping past people along the way.
"Wait! Hyung! I have the costume!"
She wheezed, coming to a stop in front of the guards, gasping frantically for air.
The bouncer unzipped the top of the bag, peering inside with a frown.
"This is the best you could find?"
"It's the only one I found!" the girl panted, wiping sweat from her forehead.
"This is... just get inside," the bouncer sighed.
"But one member is still missing!" the girl pressed anxiously. "How can we perform and do their job if someone's gone?"
"Just recruit someone inside the club. Tell them the pay is high."
"But this role is important! It's one of the 'Marias'!"
Before the girl could spiral further, the door swung open, and a strict, sharp-featured woman stepped out wearing thick glasses and dark red lipstick. She was clearly a high-ranking manager at the venue.
She looked furious, venting her anger directly on the poor assistant.
"What is the holdup out here?"
"Min-ji called out sick, ma'am," the girl stammered, shrinking back a step.
"Unbelievable. She takes the VIP tips every weekend and drops out the moment we have a full house. This is why I told you not to rely on amateurs. Now I'm stuck fixing her mess."
"I'm so sorry!" the girl bowed repeatedly.
"I didn't think she'd take a day off or call in sick! Maybe she's tired and couldn't handle the VIPs anymore..."
"Don't start with me!" the manager snapped, pulling out a cigarette out of pure irritation.
"She takes all the money she earns and still won't do proper work! Tsk.You handle the wardrobe, right? Put the outfit on. You're filling the spot. Just dance and look sexy in front of the VIPs."
The assistant's eyes widened in terror, her face went pale.
She couldn't dance and couldn't act sexy—that wasn't her job. She was just an assistant wardrobe stylist.
"M-Me? I can't dance! I'm just an assistant stylist—I don't know the choreography!"
The manager blew a cloud of smoke into the cool air, entirely unsympathetic.
"Then figure it out on stage, or you're fired."
"But I can't dance or do something like that! Please!"
The manager blew a second cloud of smoke, shaking her head.
"Fine. Just get inside and find someo—"
"Excuse me? Did I hear that right? You pay people to dance?"
Everyone froze, turning their heads toward the young man stepping out of the shadows.
Yeonho offered them a charming, polite smile, waiting for their response.
This was his ticket in: pretend he needed the job and the money so he could freely explore the place—and better yet, gain direct access to the VIP area.
The manager slowly dragged her eyes up and down his frame. She stepped forward, reaching out with two gloved fingers to firmly lift his chin, inspecting his features.
"Average person, but soft skin and pretty features when seen up close. Can you dance? We don't need stiff bodies out there. It has to be fluid. Sensual."
"I can move," Yeonho replied effortlessly. "How high is the pay?"
"High enough to make it worth your while."
"Hmm. Then I'll do it."
The woman chuckled at Yeonho's instant confidence. She snatched the heavy garment bag from the girl beside her and shoved it directly into Yeonho's chest.
"You'll quickly see why the compensation is so high," she said, stepping in close and blowing a thin stream of smoke across his shoulder.
"You're going to satisfy customers' needs, entertain them, make them buy more drinks, and spend more money. It's shady work. Are you still up for it?"
Yeonho unzipped the bag slightly, catching a glimpse of the revealing silk performance outfit inside. He froze for a split second before meeting the woman's gaze.
"So?"
"I can do it."
The manager stepped back, gesturing to the assistant.
"Bring him inside and get him ready."
The girl bowed quickly to the woman and turned to Yeonho.
"Follow me."
The assistant said, looking visibly relieved as she led Yeonho through the heavy wooden doors and down a dimly lit service corridor into a private dressing stall.
"I can prepare myself. Just give me ten minutes."
"I'll be right outside if you need anything."
The second the door clicked shut, Yeonho discarded Seungjo's suit coat, stripped off his disguise, and pulled off the brown wig and fake contacts.
Moving with deliberate focus, he removed his wig, his disguise, and his contact lenses. He sat in front of the vanity mirror and began applying makeup that perfectly matched the intoxicating, dangerous vibe of the costume.
He stared into the mirror, completing his transformation as he murmured quietly to himself:
"'If I want those bastards to step out of the dark, I need to look like the exact thing they think they destroyed."
He set his brush down, applying the final touches before reaching for the silver masquerade mask resting on the table.
He tied it securely around his head, concealing the upper half of his face while leaving his lips, jawline, and blonde hair exposed.
A dark, cold smirk spread across his face.
"Now... time to hunt those shitheads."
Yeonho checked his watch. He had precisely two hours to gather his intel, deal with his targets, and clear out before Hana's dinner began.
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