Chapter 18
Warm light spilled across the red carpet. Several great white sharks prowled through a massive aquarium along one side of the corridor.
Blue light rippled across the man's crisp white suit, outlining his strikingly handsome face as several dark shadows swept overhead.
At the end of the corridor stood a sealed mechanical door. Onces, a club in the capital's central district, had the strictest membership requirements; only the powerful and influential were allowed inside.
As Mu Chen and Lance approached, Lance lowered his eyes to the black screen. A brilliant blue light flashed on at once.
A line of text appeared on the screen: [Iris scan verified].
The heavy mechanical doors swung open, and golden light spilled into the corridor. Beyond the pitch-black doorway seemed to lie another world, with gleaming obsidian counters and custom-made leather armchairs... Every detail spoke of luxury.
As they entered, a woman in a red dress approached with several black-clad attendants.
Lance lowered his head and kissed the back of the woman's hand. “This is Rebecca, the founder and largest shareholder of Onces.”
Rebecca seized Lance by the lapels and pulled him toward her. “What kind of introduction is that? Am I not your...”
But she stopped when her gaze fell on the silver-haired young man behind Lance.
Rebecca pushed the grinning Lance aside and greeted Mu Chen.
He had dazzling silver hair and a strikingly beautiful face, still touched with youthful innocence. His sapphire-blue eyes were unforgettable.
Mu Chen smiled at her. “Hello.”
Rebecca shot Lance a reproachful glance. “Why didn't you tell me you'd brought the Crown Prince's fiancé?”
Lance: “He's an adult. I brought him along to have some fun. What's wrong with that?”
The royal family had not announced Wright's canceled engagement to the public.
He slipped an arm around Rebecca's waist, his manner as irreverent as ever. The warm, subdued lighting cast an intimate glow on their close-set faces. “But there's no need to make a fuss. You wouldn't want my big brother getting mad at me as soon as he comes back, would you?”
Rebecca glared at him again, then waved over one of her black-clad bodyguards and assigned him to Mu Chen. “This is Rick. If you need anything later, just ask him.”
Lance showed Mu Chen around the club, pointing out its facilities and different areas. He told Mu Chen to find something he liked to do, then left with Rebecca.
Mu Chen stood in the middle of the spotlight. As soon as Lance left, he felt countless unfamiliar gazes turn toward him, all curious and eager as they converged on him.
Beneath the subdued lighting, figures shifted and mingled.
He glanced at the crowded bar behind him, then chose a secluded, unoccupied corner at the other end.
Mu Chen leaned back against the armchair, bracing both hands on its back with his long legs crossed. He sent Rick to fetch him a few drinks, then lowered his head and took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
The next second, the sound of leather shoes crossing the marble floor rang out beside him.
—one after another.
Mu Chen held a cigarette between his long index finger and thumb. His thin lips pressed together briefly. The moment he looked up,
“Click!”
Several lighters were held out to him at once. Their dancing flames illuminated a collection of unfamiliar faces. They all looked different, but every one of them had “desire” written all over it.
Mu Chen swept his indifferent gaze over the crowd, treating them all like thin air. He simply took a lighter from his pocket and lit his cigarette.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke, wondering how to make all these eyesores leave...
“May I have the honor of learning your name?”
A man's face emerged through the dispersing smoke. From the medal on his chest, he seemed to be a noble with the title of duke or count. He raised his glass, becoming the first of the crowd to speak.
“I'm curious where you're from. You don't come to the capital often, do you? If I'd ever seen someone like you before, I certainly wouldn't have forgotten.”
The man's gaze settled on Mu Chen's face, undisguised infatuation in his eyes.
Mu Chen: “You must have seen me before.”
The man's smile widened. “Where?”
To him, Mu Chen's answer was as good as accepting his invitation.
But just as the man tried to move closer, Mu Chen took another drag and tilted his head back. “I'm the Crown Prince's fiancé. Isn't it only natural that you've seen me?”
“...”
At the words “Crown Prince,” the smile froze on the man's lips. His hand shook around his glass, spilling half the red wine onto his white shirt.
Mu Chen frowned. His thin, pursed lips curled into a mocking smile.
He was clearly displeased by the man's loss of composure.
The man grabbed a few tissues and hastily dabbed at his collar. “I'm sorry. Please forgive my lack of composure.”
With that, he slunk away from Mu Chen.
Once someone had set such a “good example,” Mu Chen pressed his thin lips together in satisfaction and glanced calmly around. The people who had gathered around him came to their senses and scattered at once.
At last, peace and quiet. No one tried to intrude on his corner anymore.
After a while, only the clinking of ice cubes remained.
Mu Chen drained the little amber liquid left in his glass and, without changing expression, switched to another drink.
The drinks here really were good.
His blue blood gave him a high tolerance for alcohol, so he rarely got drunk.
But even Rick, a bodyguard who had seen all kinds of things, couldn't help staring in surprise at Mu Chen's habit of drinking as if it were water. He hesitated, unsure whether to warn his guest that the alcohol had a strong kick.
Just then, with a “Ding!”, the blue screen lit up in front of Mu Chen.
[What are you doing?]
The sender was listed as “Big Brother.”
Mu Chen checked the time. It was 8:52 p.m. Wright must have finished his business early.
He set down his glass and replied:
[Lying in bed reading.]
[Are you done, Big Brother?]
Wright: [Mm.]
Mu Chen stubbed out his still-glowing cigarette, then lowered his eyes to the many glasses of different colors piled on the table. His fingers moved nimbly across his terminal as he typed a message.
[I'm going to warm myself a glass of milk. I'll call you in five minutes.]
It would take five minutes to fly back to the palace from here, if he hurried.
Wright: [All right.]
Putting his terminal away, Mu Chen rose from the sofa, intending to tell Lance he was leaving early.
He wound his way through several twisting corridors. Crocodiles swam beneath the transparent walkways, while the subdued lighting created an atmosphere of indulgence. The ever-present incense heightened the senses, even bringing out the lingering taste of alcohol in Mu Chen's mouth...
He actually felt a little hot.
The moment Mu Chen opened the private room's door, a highly provocative scene met his eyes.
“Uh...”
A wet, sticky sound, like water dripping through a rubber tube.
The woman sat astride Lance, her smooth black hair falling over his eyes and leaving only his high nose bridge and sharply defined jaw visible. They kissed, their movements charged with naked desire.
The dim light fell on the man's dazzling golden hair, making Mu Chen think of someone else...
From certain angles, Lance did look a lot like Wright.
—Just like now.
Like waves crashing against the rocks on the shore, the sight, sounds, and smells all stimulated the neural network in Mu Chen's mind, amplified beyond measure.
After a brief daze, Mu Chen slammed the door shut and hurried away down the corridor.
The attendant waiting at the end of the corridor watched the man stride away like a gust of wind, puzzled. “Your Highness?”
Mu Chen: “I'm heading back. Let him know for me.”
The attendant: “Your Highness, I'll get your aircraft ready.”
Mu Chen left him with a quick “I'll fly myself,” giving the attendant no chance to follow. He walked away without looking back.
...
Inside the enclosed aircraft, Mu Chen felt the alcohol's kick hit him all at once. His clear-headed mind grew heavy, and even the air around him seemed to turn stiflingly hot. He undid the top two buttons of his collar and lowered the window to let in the cold wind.
In the pitch-black night, red lights flashed. His attention wandered for a moment, and an image surfaced in his mind: red lips pressed and distorted...
Mu Chen irritably gulped down some cold water and set the aircraft's speed to its highest setting.
Back in his room, he changed clothes and poured himself some milk in one smooth sequence, then opened his personal terminal.
Almost as soon as Mu Chen placed the call, Wright answered his video request.
The blue glow of the screen revealed the man's handsome face. Wright was wearing a casual T-shirt today, and his hair, unusually loose over his forehead, looked soft and tousled.
Six years had passed, but his appearance had hardly changed. He had simply gained a more composed, reserved air.
Behind Wright was a narrow military bed. The room was simply furnished, with only one incongruous object by the headboard: a shark plushie. It was Sharky, which Mu Chen had insisted Wright take with him. Back then, Mu Chen had said things like, “I can't go with you, Big Brother, so let Sharky keep you company instead,” and, “Big Brother, this is my favorite thing, so be sure not to break it.”
He'd insisted it was his favorite thing, all the while forcing Wright to take it with red-rimmed eyes.
Later, so Mu Chen could see it during their video calls, Wright had kept it in the most prominent spot by the headboard. It hadn't moved since.
Over the years, Wright had taken good care of Sharky. Whenever it appeared on camera, it was always spotless, and it still looked just as it had back then.
Usually, Mu Chen was the one to start their video calls. After all, he never ran out of things to say to Wright: “Did you eat today, Big Brother?” “What did you do today?” “I had another exam today.” “I got an A.” He could chatter on like that without end.
But today, for once, he didn't speak first.
Because Mu Chen's gaze was fixed on the split at the corner of Wright's mouth. The wound had healed, leaving a dark scab that stood out against his pale lips.
The hard liquor was beginning to take effect. The color saturation of the world before Mu Chen seemed to grow more intense, while his thoughts grew slower and slower. He could only focus on one thing, so his gaze traced Wright's slightly parted lips inch by inch.
Mu Chen suddenly realized... Though Big Brother always seemed stern and wore a cold expression, his lips were soft. Looking closely, the curve of his Cupid's bow was quite distinct... And their color—their color was...
They were pink.