The sun had fully set when I stepped out of the mansion.
I hesitated before locking the door behind me. I hadn't seen Harley since morning, and I didn't know if he was feeling any better. I knew he wasn't going into work — I had overheard him earlier telling someone to cancel all his meetings.
"Maybe I should stay home," I muttered under my breath.
A quick glance at my watch reminded me that Amy was already waiting for me. No — she was definitely already there.
I looked back at the mansion one last time before stepping into the BMW that had just pulled up.
"Where to, Miss Huo?" Mr. Lu asked.
"Lumen Hotel," I replied, fastening my seatbelt.
He nodded and drove off. The ride was quiet, though every now and then I caught him glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
"I'll be fine, Mr. Lu," I assured him gently.
"Just be careful, Miss Huo," he said, concern evident in his voice. "That place can get out of control sometimes."
I offered him a small smile but said nothing.
When the car pulled up in front of Lumen Hotel, the building shimmered beneath the city lights. Music pulsed faintly from inside, laughter spilling through the entrance doors each time they opened.
After thanking Mr. Lu, I stepped out and made my way inside.
The lounge was alive — dim lighting, polished marble floors, and low golden lamps casting soft shadows across plush seating areas. Amy was already seated at the bar, waving dramatically when she spotted me.
"You're late," she teased as I slid into the seat beside her.
"Blame traffic," I replied with a faint smile.
We ordered drinks and settled into easy conversation, the music blending with the hum of voices around us. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to relax.
Then a staff member approached us.
"Miss Huo?" he asked politely.
Amy and I exchanged confused looks. How did he know my name? It had barely been a month since I returned to Seoul, and during that time I had been too busy to socialize.
"Yes?" I answered.
"You're requested upstairs in one of our VIP rooms."
"Requested?" Amy repeated.
I frowned slightly. "By whom?"
The staff member only offered a courteous smile. "If you would follow me."
Amy leaned closer to me. "Do you know what this is about?"
I shook my head slowly. "No."
Still confused, we stood and followed him toward the private elevator. The music grew fainter as the doors closed behind us.
The second floor was quieter — more refined. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the bar below, offering a clear view of the entire lounge.
The staff member, who had introduced himself as Mike, stopped in front of a dark wooden door and pushed it open.
Amy latched onto my right arm as we walked inside. She immediately let go when Nicholas waved at us. I caught the faint blush on her cheeks as she tried to compose herself.
"Sophie," came a smooth, seductive voice. "When did you get back to Seoul?"
I turned toward the sound of my name and spotted the notorious model-turned-playboy, Dylan Hu, with his arm wrapped around a blonde woman who shot me a nasty look.
"A couple of weeks ago," I replied.
Amy had already joined Nicholas on the two-seater couch, laughing at something he had said. They looked good together.
Opposite them sat James Yee, cool and observant as ever. A lawyer. I had never told anyone this before, but he had been my first crush. I never pursued it because I could tell from his body language that he only saw me as a sister.
Between the couches sat a marble coffee table cluttered with bottles of alcohol and cigarette packs.
And beyond that — Harley.
He was seated on the far couch, relaxed, watching me with cold, unreadable eyes.
I rolled my eyes and took the empty seat beside him. Grabbing an unused glass, I poured myself a drink and downed it in one go. From the corner of my eye, I felt his gaze on me.
How did he know I was here? Better yet, how did he even find me in that crowd?
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
The room fell silent. Everyone — including the jealous blonde — turned their attention to us.
I met his stare. "What are you doing here? Did you forget you were running a fever last night?"
I lifted my hand to check his temperature, but he smacked it away. Twice. In less than twenty-four hours.
I stood abruptly and turned to Amy. "Come on, Amy. We're going dancing."
Dylan brushed the clingy blonde off his arm and stood up, adjusting his shirt. "I'll join you. Can never be too careful with lurking perverts."
Harley tightened his grip around the half-empty glass. It shattered in his hand.
Everyone flinched as tension thickened, heavy and suffocating.
Amy gasped. "Oh my God, Harley, your hand is bleeding!"
Blood mixed with alcohol, dripping onto the marble floor. It took every ounce of willpower not to rush to him.
I was tired of his rudeness. I needed to dance off the frustration building inside me.
My heart skipped when he stood and grabbed my wrist — with his injured hand — pulling me toward the door.
I glanced back at the stunned faces watching us as the door closed behind us.
"Let go," I said, yanking my hand free and rubbing the sore spot on my wrist. "What the hell, Harley?"
"Follow me."
His tone was sharp and commanding, and before I could stop myself, I obeyed. I muttered a few curse words under my breath as I followed him toward the basement level, where rows of expensive vehicles gleamed under dim lighting.
When we reached his red Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail, he opened the passenger door and said, "Get in."
I hesitated for half a second before climbing into the seat and buckling up. He slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver's side.
As soon as he got in, the engine roared to life. The digital dashboard lit up, the startup animation sleek and mesmerizing despite the tension in the air.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
Silence stretched between us.
A sudden surge of acceleration forced me back into the seat, and a shriek escaped my lips as the world outside blurred past. I grabbed onto the edge of the seat for dear life.
"Are you crazy?"
A small chuckle escaped him — brief and dark — before disappearing just as quickly.
Heavy silence followed.
Instead of speaking again, I pulled out my phone and sent Amy a quick apologetic message.
I really wanted to dance too.
Harley made a sharp right turn, smoothly merging into traffic. Soon, the towering Huang Group building came into view — tall and imposing against the night sky.
"Why are we going to your company?" I asked.
He ignored me and pulled into the private driveway, stopping at the main entrance.
"Let's go," was all he said.
I followed closely behind him as we entered the building. The interior was dark, lit only by faint emergency lights. Everyone had already gone home.
"H-Harley… can I hold your hand?" I asked quietly, reaching toward him. One of his hands remained tucked in his pocket.
He stopped abruptly, causing me to bump into his back. He glanced over his shoulder.
"When are you going to stop being afraid of the dark?"
Placing my hands on my hips, I shot back, "When are you going to stop giving me the cold shoulder?"
Our eyes locked, and neither of us moved. The silence between us stretched thin, fragile and trembling, as if one wrong word would shatter whatever was left.
His jaw tightened, but for just a second his eyes weren't cold. They were tired. Hurt. And something inside my chest ached in response.
I wanted to say something — anything — but the words stayed lodged in my throat.
We stood there in the dim light of the empty building, two stubborn hearts refusing to bend. And for the first time that night, the anger between us didn't feel loud.
It felt unbearably quiet.