"Really?" Theron blinked, clearly surprised.
Eiran couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the reaction. "Yeah... be quick before your friends notice."
"Oh—right. Thanks." Theron's expression shifted to one of realization. "Can I?" he asked, a faint, polite smile on his lips.
Eiran nodded slightly. He didn't want to prolong this—the sooner it was over, the better.
Theron stepped closer, placing a hand lightly on the counter behind Eiran, subtly closing the space.
Eiran looked up, brow furrowed, raising his hands slightly as if to push him back.
Theron held them gently for a moment. "My apologies," he whispered softly. "I just... need to block their view." Then he released Eiran's hands.
Eiran felt a twinge of discomfort but endured it. "Be quick."
Theron tilted his head, leaning in close—but never touching. He lingered a moment, lips stopping just short of the air beside Eiran's cheek. Eiran could feel the faint warmth of his presence, even the brush of his breath.
Then Theron stepped back.
Eiran exhaled, adjusting his posture. That was... more awkward than he expected.
The sense of Theron's presence lingered longer than it should have.
He had never been this close to anyone—other than Valerian.
"Thanks, I owe you one." Theron gave him a polite smile, pulling a card from his pocket. "This is my card. You can contact me if you ever need my help."
Eiran shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary."
He tried to smile back, but the awkwardness still hung in the air.
"Please, take it. I insist." Theron pressed the card into his hand.
"...Alright." Eiran just wanted to end the conversation as quickly as possible.
They parted ways, and Eiran finally let out a sigh of relief.
And sat there dejectedly again—he was impulsive just now.
Now that he was alone again... his mind started racing.
He got carried away by emotions—what exactly was he thinking?
If this got out—
He wasn't worried about others knowing he was into men—most people already assumed—but he didn't want Valerian to misunderstand.
It was Lilia's eighteenth birthday, and he was certain the Silvaris family had booked the entire club. All the guests here were from the same circle. Though he rarely interacted with them, he knew enough to understand the dynamics.
Valerian, Kael, and he—they were worlds apart when it came to social circles.
Valerian valued words as gold and despised immature behavior, so his friends and acquaintances were mostly from the business world—older and serious.
Kael had plenty of friends, mostly other second—generation rich kids like himself.
Eiran? He rarely made friends. Not because he disliked it-but Valerian didn't approve of those reckless second—generation types, so he kept his distance. Most people he knew here were acquaintances at best.
Even now, only a few guests were present. A rumor like this would spread even before the next morning.
But he could explain it to Valerian later. After all, the bartender had seen it, so had Theron, and the club likely had CCTV—though getting footage from Nyvoré's strict security would be nearly impossible.
Shaking his head, he forced the thoughts away.
He really wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.
Just as he was debating whether to call Kael or not, he saw Kael approaching with Lilia and a few others.
Hm... it was going to be a long day.
Kael waved at the others and they moved ahead in a different direction, while he came up to Eiran with Lilia.
"I'm really sorry for making you wait so long." Kael practically jumped on him, draping an arm over his shoulder. "Sorry, Ran."
Eiran resisted the urge to peel Kael off him—Lilia was here, and he had to maintain appearances. So he smiled, as if he wasn't currently being used as a human coat rack.
"It's fine, Kael." He offered a small smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It wasn't too long."
Kael noticed immediately and straightened, clearly relieved.
"Hey, Eiran," Lilia greeted from the side, successfully drawing his attention.
"Ah—hey, Lilia. Happy birthday." Eiran's smile softened, warmer this time.
"Thanks, Eiran." Lilia's grin was bright and enthusiastic. "You look way too good—no matter what you wear."
Eiran rubbed the back of his neck, a faint warmth rising to his ears."You too... stunning, as always."
"Oh, you're too humble," Lilia winked lightly. "You know, there's just... something about you. Hard to look away from."
Eiran's ears tinged red. He quickly tried to shift the topic. "Then... allow me to express my gratitude." He picked up two glasses of red wine from a passing waiter, handing one to Lilia with a polite smile, keeping the other for himself.
They clinked glasses, and Lilia laughed, eyes fixed on him as he lifted his own.
Her gaze lingered as Eiran lifted the glass. The dim light caught his long, slender fingers. Even holding a wine glass, they seemed delicate—almost fragile.
His hazel eyes met hers briefly, lashes casting faint shadows against his skin. He seemed entirely unbothered as he sipped his wine—unaware of how many eyes lingered on him.
Charm was its own kind of power...
Lilia took a sip of her wine and couldn't help but sigh softly—even the wine seemed more fragrant in the presence of a handsome man.
They talked for a few more minutes before Lilia excused herself to attend to other guests.
~
On the other hand, Valerian was already in his hotel room, speaking to someone on the phone.
"Why do they suddenly want to set a meeting for tomorrow?" Valerian frowned, clearly in a foul mood.
"They're leaving the country soon, so their schedule is tight. If not tomorrow, the next available date won't be until next month," A middle-aged man's voice came from the other end of the line.
"How long will I have to stay here?" Valerian asked, impatience slipping through.
The other side paused for a moment before replying.
"At least a week, sir."
Valerian fell silent, his hand tightening around the phone.
"Sir... the chairman... he—" The man on the other end stuttered. " These are the chairman's orders."
"If it's not done within a week, I'll deal with you myself." His voice was low and even—leaving no room for argument.
He ended the call and stared at the suitcase on the bed.
He had almost finished packing.
Now he sat down and began unpacking again.
~
Back at the club, Lilia had just finished cutting her cake—a mixed fruit flavor.
Eiran sat in the corner, nibbling on his slice.
It looked almost cute on the plate and tasted pleasantly sweet. He preferred sweet desserts more than anything.
More guests had begun dancing, drinking, or playing games. Kael had asked him to join—but he wasn't used to places like this. The noise, the lights, the constant movement—it left him faintly uncomfortable.
All he could do was take small sips of his drink and scroll through his phone.
"Sir, your drink."
He lifted his head at the voice, only to see a bartender placing a cocktail in front of him.
"For me? But I didn't order this. I asked for pineapple juice." He offered a polite smile. "Perhaps it's for someone else."
"Oh—my apologies, sir. I must have been mistaken. I haven't prepared your drink yet. Please enjoy this one while I make yours."
"There's no need," Eiran said gently, waving a hand. "My tolerance isn't very good. I'll stick to soft drinks."
"This cocktail has a very low alcohol content," the bartender replied earnestly.
The sincerity in his tone made refusal feel almost rude.
So, reluctantly, Eiran accepted it.
One drink or two—it wasn't like he was the one paying tonight.
He took a careful sip.
Sweetness hit first—then citrus. It spread across his tongue, bright and refreshing.
Hm. It actually tasted... good.
He wasn't fond of cocktails, but he had to admit—this one was surprisingly nice. He gave the bartender a quiet, mental thumbs—up.
By the time he finished it, however, warmth had begun creeping up his neck.
His head felt light.
Was he already tipsy?
That didn't make sense. He'd only had a few soft drinks, one glass of red wine, and this cocktail. The bartender had said it was low in alcohol.
His tolerance couldn't have dropped overnight... could it?
No... maybe he was just feeling stuffy here—
As his thoughts wandered, he decided to go out for some fresh air.
As he stood up and began to walk, the music seemed louder, and his vision grew unfocused.
Still, he somehow managed to get out of there.
Standing in the corridor, he could no longer distinguish the directions clearly.
He was certain now—he was drunk.
First, he needed to get out of here and call Kael.
As he walked, fumbling through his contacts, the dizziness worsened. The screen blurred beneath his gaze. Still, he managed a few unsteady steps-
Before stumbling and crashing hard into something.
Or someone.
"Sir, are you alright?"
"Who is this guy? Maybe a drunk guest."
The voices sounded distant. Muffled. As though they were coming from far away.
"Sir, let me handle this for you."
He tried to straighten, but his legs felt weak, unreliable.
"It's fine."
The voice that answered was calm. Measured. Faintly distant.
It came from somewhere above him.
He slowly lifted his head.
Through his unfocused vision, he could only make out a black mask—and a few strands of long silver‐blond hair resting over a dark shoulder.
The corridor lights caught faintly on the pale strands.
A steady hand caught him before he could collapse completely, firm and controlled as it guided him upright.
"Tha... thanks."
He shuddered slightly, the words barely leaving his lips.
"Roaming around like this can be dangerous."
The tone remained composed—neither warm nor cold. Just a simple reminder.
Those were the last words he heard before his vision began to fade.
The lights blurred.
The corridor tilted.
And then everything went blank.
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