"Fucking idiot…" Erika mutters under her breath, wiping her hands with a cloth, still irritated.
"What does he think of himself…?" Her jaw tightens slightly as she exhales sharply.
"You're here to drink—then just drink. Or get the hell out. Don't try your luck with me."
"Damn these jerks…" The tension lingers in her shoulders even as she tries to shake it off. The manager approaches, cautious but concerned. "Hey… you alright?" Erika doesn't look up immediately. "I'm fine." Short. Flat. She picks up another glass, polishing it like nothing happened—like it never bothers her. But the edge in her movements says otherwise.
"Should I call someone and have that guy thrown out?"
The manager's voice is low—
trying to keep things under control,
though there's only a trace of concern in it.
More for the situation—
than for her.
Erika shakes her head lightly.
"It's fine."
Her tone is calm.
Almost dismissive.
"I handled it."
A faint pause.
"He won't try that again."
She doesn't elaborate—
but the message is clear.
"No need to make a scene."
The manager studies her for a second,
then nods.
"…Alright."
And just like that—
he walks off,
back to work.
…
Erika exhales quietly,
rolling her wrist once before picking up another glass.
Back to routine.
Back to normal.
As if nothing happened.
She moves along the counter—
serving drinks,
taking orders,
her expression steady.
But there's still a sharpness in her eyes.
A warning.
Unspoken—
but very much there.
It's almost 3 a.m. when the bar begins to close, the noise fading into a dull hum as chairs are stacked and lights dim.
Outside, Ren waits, watching, choosing not to interrupt, his gaze fixed on the door.
When Erika finally steps out, tired yet guarded, his voice stops her. "Erika."
She turns, only for him to catch her wrist—firm, not rough, but enough to halt her movement.
"Come with me. I need to talk." Her eyes narrow instantly.
"What do you think you're doing?" she snaps, trying to pull away.
His grip loosens slightly, but he doesn't let go completely. "Two minutes. That's all I'm asking."
"After that—you walk away."
No force.
No threat.
Just insistence.
And something else—
something quieter.
Unfamiliar.
Like he actually means ."How about a drink with me?" Ren's voice is quieter now, less commanding than before.
"I swear… I don't have any wrong intentions. Just… trust me this once."
Erika lets out a dry, almost disbelieving laugh, her eyes sharp as they meet his. "Trust you?" she scoffs.
"After accusing me of using a scandal to get fame and money? And now you think I'll just walk off with you?" She shakes her head, already turning away.
"I'm not that desperate."
But her steps slow—then stop. Across the street, two familiar figures come into view, and the shift in her expression is subtle but undeniable.
"…Damn it," she mutters under her breath, her fingers curling slightly as tension replaces irritation.
Of all times… Her gaze flickers away quickly, avoiding attention, her mind racing. The presence of the loan sharks changes everything. A second passes, then another, calculation settling in where anger once stood.
She turns back. "Fine," she says flatly. "I'll come."
Her eyes meet his again, cold and clear. "Don't misunderstand. This doesn't mean I trust you."
Ren studies her for a moment, sensing the sudden shift but not fully understanding it. Still, he doesn't question it. Not now. Because for the first time—she didn't walk away.
The night stretches quiet and dark around them as they walk, the street nearly empty, shadows pooling under dim lights.
Out of nowhere, a sudden movement cuts across the road—a cat darting through the darkness, its eyes briefly glowing under the streetlight.
Erika flinches instinctively, a soft gasp escaping her as she grips Ren's hand without thinking. "God… what was that?" she startles, her voice low but shaken.
Ren glances ahead, then back at her, unfazed. "It's just a cat. Nothing to worry about."
She follows his gaze, her breath steadying as the realization settles in. "…Just a cat,"
she murmurs, quickly letting go of his hand as if it burns, her cheeks tinting faintly with embarrassment.
"It just came out of nowhere," she adds, trying to cover it up, brushing it off with a small frown.
Ren watches her for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips—amused at the contrast.
The same woman who didn't hesitate to twist a man's arm without a second thought… startled by something so small. He doesn't say it out loud. But the thought lingers.
They sit across from each other in a quiet late-night restaurant, the kind that barely holds onto its last customers, a couple of beers and a plate of spicy wings placed between them.
The air is still, heavy with everything unsaid. Erika leans back slightly, her gaze fixed on him, unamused. "Speak," she says flatly.
"Whatever you dragged me here for—just say it."
A pause. Then sharper—"Or is there even anything left? You already accused me of enough." Her lips curl faintly in sarcasm.
"What now? Another allegation? Or did your so-called loyal actor send you to get an apology out of me… just to convince his wife?" Her tone cuts clean. "Which one is it? Say it."
Ren exhales, a quiet scoff leaving him as he shakes his head slightly. "It's not like that."
His voice is calmer now, stripped of its earlier edge. For a moment, he doesn't speak—like he's choosing his words carefully for once. Then finally—"I came to apologize."
The words sit there, unexpected.
"I crossed a line," he continues, meeting her eyes directly this time.
"I said things I shouldn't have." A brief pause follows, heavier than before.
"We're under a lot of pressure. The release, the media, everything piling up…" He exhales slowly. "And I took it out on you."
There's no excuse in his tone.
Just acknowledgment.
And for the first time—he doesn't sound like a man trying to control a situation.
Just someone who knows he was wrong.
Erika lets out a soft, almost amused exhale, tilting her head slightly as she studies him.
"Huh… interesting."
There's a faint smirk on her lips—
but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"Should I be worried?"
Her voice carries a quiet mockery.
"This sudden change in tone… it's kind of scary."
A pause.
She leans back just a little,
breaking the moment herself.
"Whatever."
Her gaze drops to the plate between them.
"It's already done, right?"
She picks up a wing,
completely dismissing the weight of his apology.
"Who cares."
Like it never mattered.
Or like she refuses to let it matter.
She takes a bite,
focusing on the food instead—
leaving his words hanging in the air,
unacknowledged.
Ren exhales sharply, leaning back slightly, his patience finally thinning.
"Seriously… I came all this way to apologize."
His voice isn't loud—
but there's irritation beneath it now.
"You have any idea how busy I am?"
A short, humorless laugh escapes him.
"I waited three hours for you to finish your shift."
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"And here I am—"
A pause.
His gaze fixes on her.
"Starting to think I might actually be the worst kind of person for even trying."
There's a beat of silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
"Because clearly…"
His tone drops, quieter now.
"It doesn't make a difference."
He leans back again,
shaking his head slightly.
"Right?"
"Yeah… it doesn't matter."
Erika's voice snaps—sharp, final.
She looks at him then, eyes steady but cold.
"Words don't just disappear after you say them."
A pause.
"You should know that… Mr. PR manager."
The title drips with quiet mockery.
…
And then—
her gaze shifts.
Past him.
Toward the entrance.
Her expression freezes for a fraction of a second.
"…Fuck."
Barely a whisper.
"Why are they here…?"
Her fingers tighten around the edge of the table, tension snapping through her entire body. Without thinking, she drops her head forward, letting it hit the table with a dull thud—more frustration than pain.
"Seriously…?" she mutters under her breath.
Not now.
Not here.
…
Ren notices the shift immediately.
The way her posture changes.
The way her voice drops.
Something's wrong.
And this time—
it has nothing to do with him.
"What the hell…?"
Ren mutters, his brows tightening as he catches her hand instinctively.
"Hey—are you alright?"
No response.
"Hey… answer me."
His voice sharpens slightly.
…
Erika doesn't look at him.
Her gaze is fixed ahead—
tense,
unmoving.
Please… please don't say my name…
The words repeat in her mind like a prayer.
Her fingers curl tighter against his sleeve.
Don't notice me.
Don't call me out.
Not here.
…
A chair scrapes softly behind them.
Someone sits.
Close.
Too close.
Her breath hitches.
She doesn't turn immediately—
but she knows.
…
Slowly—
she leans closer to Ren.
"Hey…"
Her voice is barely audible.
Unsteady.
Completely unlike her before.
"Get me out of here."
A pause.
"I'll accept your apology… just—"
Her grip tightens.
"Please."
For the first time—
there's no defiance.
No mockery.
Just urgency.
And fear she's trying desperately to hide.
"What…?"
Ren frowns, thrown off by the sudden shift in her tone.
"What are you talking about? I don't understand—"
His words trail off as he looks at her properly.
Really looks.
Something's off.
Completely.
…
Erika doesn't answer.
She just grips his sleeve—
tighter.
Her fingers trembling slightly despite her effort to stay composed.
"Just… don't ask," she whispers, barely moving her lips.
Her eyes flick toward the side—
then back to him.
Urgent.
Unsteady.
"Please."
A pause.
"Just get me out of here."
Her voice is low,
but there's something in it now—
something he hasn't heard from her before.
Not anger.
Not mockery.
Fear.
…
Ren goes still.
The confusion is still there—
but it's quickly replaced by something else.
Awareness.
Whatever this is—
it's serious.
She looks at him—really looks this time.
There's no sarcasm left.
No defiance.
Just urgency.
"Loan sharks…" she whispers, her voice barely there. "They're right behind me. If they recognize me… they'll take everything. My salary—everything. Just… please get me out."
For a split second—
Ren freezes.
Then something in him sharpens.
Alert.
Focused.
He doesn't ask anything else.
Doesn't hesitate.
Before she can react, he pulls her into his arms—
close,
secure,
like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Her breath catches.
"What the hell are you doing—" she whispers against his shoulder, startled.
He doesn't stop moving.
"Keeping you safe."
His voice is low.
Firm.
"Just stay still."
He adjusts his hold slightly, walking past the tables with controlled ease, his movements deliberate—calculated enough to not draw attention, but fast enough to get them out.
"Understood?"
A brief pause.
Then, quieter—
"You stubborn woman."
He catches it—
the way she clings to him,
her face half-hidden against his shoulder,
trying not to be seen.
For someone so sharp,
so unyielding just moments ago—
this version of her feels… different.
Unexpected.
A faint smirk tugs at his lips.
"Damn…"
He mutters under his breath,
barely audible.
"Interesting."
But he doesn't slow down.
Doesn't loosen his hold.
If anything—
his grip steadies,
more certain now,
as he carries her out into the night.
They reach the car just in time.
Ren opens the door, guiding her inside without a word. She slips into the seat quickly, pulling herself in, still keeping her head low.
The door shuts.
For a second—
it feels like they made it.
…
But across the street—
one of the men steps out, phone pressed to his ear.
Mid-conversation,
his gaze drifts—
then stops.
Locks.
On her.
Even from a distance—
recognition flashes across his face.
"…Wait."
He straightens instantly, turning back toward the restaurant.
"That girl—"
His voice sharpens.
"She's here."
A beat.
"She's getting away."
He starts moving, urgency kicking in as he speaks into the phone.
"Call the others. Now."
His pace quickens—
eyes fixed on the car.
Inside—
danger is seconds away from catching up.
"Shit… what do I do now…?"
Erika's voice trembles, panic finally breaking through.
"Why—why are they even here… out of all places—"
She cuts herself off as the engine roars to life.
Ren doesn't respond.
He just drives.
Fast.
Too fast.
The car jerks forward, tires screeching as he takes a sharp turn, headlights slicing through the empty road.
Behind them—
another car follows.
Closing in.
…
"Are you serious right now?!" Erika grips the seat, then his shirt, her voice shaking. "Mr. PR manager—we're going to die if you drive like this!"
He doesn't slow down.
If anything—
he pushes harder.
The speed climbs.
So does her heartbeat.
Streetlights blur past in streaks of gold and shadow, the city melting into motion.
A turn.
Another.
Then suddenly—
a narrow lane.
He swerves into it without warning.
The pursuing car misses the turn—
overshoots.
For a moment—
there's nothing behind them.
…
Silence.
Only the sound of the engine,
and their uneven breathing.
…
After what feels like forever—
Ren finally slows the car,
pulling over at a deserted stretch.
The engine cuts.
Stillness crashes in.
…
He leans back slightly, exhaling.
"…Not in my entire life…"
A short, breathless laugh escapes him.
"…have I driven like that."
He runs a hand through his hair.
"That was insane."
…
Erika slumps back in her seat, chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Damn…"
She lets out a shaky breath.
"I really thought I was going to die."
Her grip on his shirt loosens slowly—
like she's only now realizing she's still holding on.
And that they're finally—
safe.
Erika's breathing slowly steadies as the silence settles between them. Then her eyes catch something—
a faint streak of red near Ren's forehead.
Her brows knit slightly.
"…Wait."
Without thinking, she leans closer.
Too close.
…
Ren goes still.
His breath hitches for a second.
"Woah—" he blurts, instinctively leaning back just a little. "I didn't drive like that just to get a kiss, you know."
There's a hint of casual teasing in his tone—
trying to cover the moment.
…
Erika pauses.
Then—
thud.
She lightly knocks her forehead against his.
"Idiot."
She pulls back, holding up a thin red thread between her fingers.
"This."
Her expression is unimpressed.
"I was taking this off."
…
Ren blinks, momentarily caught off guard.
"Oh."
A beat.
"…Right."
…
She opens the car door, stepping out into the cool night air.
"I misjudged you," she says, her voice quieter now.
Not sharp.
Not mocking.
"I thought you were worse than you actually are."
A small pause.
Then—
a faint exhale.
"But… I guess you're still the same."
The words sound like an insult—
but they don't carry weight.
Not like before.
…
"Hey—wait."
Ren steps out after her, slightly stumbling as he catches up.
"I'll drop you home."
His tone is more serious now.
Less guarded.
…
Erika shakes her head lightly without looking back.
"No need."
"My friend lives nearby."
She keeps walking—
but slower than before.
Like she knows he's still there.
Like she hasn't completely shut him out.
"Friend… or boyfriend?"
Ren asks, a hint of curiosity slipping into his tone.
Erika slows just slightly, then glances back at him.
"And if it's a boyfriend?"
Her voice carries a quiet challenge.
"Why do you care?"
…
He shrugs lightly, a faint smirk forming.
"Of course I care."
A pause.
"In that restaurant, people probably witnessed our insane chemistry."
He tilts his head, teasing.
"Would be a shame to break their hearts like that."
…
Erika lets out a small, unexpected smile.
Soft.
Brief.
"Mr. PR manager…"
She turns fully this time, walking backward for a step.
"I think you should get going."
A slight pause.
"What if your so-called actor creates another mess?"
There's a hint of mischief in her tone now—
lighter than before.
…
She turns again, heading toward the house.
Ren watches her for a moment—
about to leave.
"Hey."
He stops.
She hasn't turned around this time.
"Thanks for the ride."
A small pause.
"It was… insane."
…
For a second—
he just stands there.
Then a faint smile crosses his face.
Because somehow—
that sounded like more than just gratitude.
He sits back in the driver's seat, the engine still humming softly beneath the quiet night.
For a moment—
he doesn't move.
Just stares ahead.
"…Hell of a ride."
The words slip out under his breath, a faint, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.
He exhales, leaning back slightly.
"And… what an incredibly frustrating woman."
A pause.
Then, quieter—
"…and somehow interesting."