"Come on," Jean said with a mischievous grin. "Hypothetically… who here would you be most likely to kiss?"
The table immediately erupted.
Dasom nearly choked on her drink. "JEAN!"
"What?" he asked innocently. "Hypothetically."
"Please!"
Bee pointed dramatically at herself.
"Okay, let's be real. The entire world knows Asher is my type."
Asher, who had been taking a sip of his drink, paused.
The corners of his lips lifted into a helpless smile.
Jean made a gagging noise. "You two are disgustingly in love."
"Thank you," Bee replied proudly.
"That wasn't a compliment."
"It is to me."
Dasom looked around the table in despair.
Her eyes landed on Storm.
Then Oscar.
Then unfortunately—
Yixing.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
She needed an escape route.
Fast.
At last, inspiration struck.
"At this point," she declared dramatically, "I'd rather kiss Jonathan at the door."
The entire table burst into laughter.
Oscar nearly laughed.
Storm blinked.
Even Yixing's expression softened.
Somewhere in the distance, blissfully unaware, Jonathan was probably banning someone from the club.
Bee immediately slammed a hand on the table.
"No!"
She pointed accusingly at Dasom. "You do not get to escape the original question."
Jean nodded solemnly. "The people demand answers."
"The people are nosy," Dasom shot back.
"The people are invested."
Dasom looked toward Asher one last time.
"Help me pleaseeee."
Asher met her gaze then calmly reached for another drink. "I fear this is no longer my battle."
Dasom gasped dramatically. "Unbelievable."
Across from her, Storm looked remarkably calm.
Beside her, Yixing remained unreadable.
And suddenly, Dasom realised there was no escape.
Bee leaned forward eagerly, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Come on, Daisy. Hypothetically."
Dasom narrowed her eyes. "I don't think you know what that word means anymore."
"Oh, I know exactly what it means."
Jean rested his chin on his hand like a man watching premium entertainment. "This is better than television."
"You are all terrible friends."
"We're excellent friends," Bee corrected. "Terrible people. Great friends."
Oscar chuckled quietly. "She's got a point."
Traitor.
Every last one of them.
Dasom rubbed her temples. "Why is everyone acting like I've never spoken to men before?"
"Because," Jean said matter-of-factly, counting on his fingers, "in the span of forty-eight hours you've reunited with your childhood crush, met Mr. Turbulence again—"
"We don't know if that's him," Dasom interjected quickly.
"—went missing for a day with Oscar—"
"I was not missing."
"—and came back from upstairs holding hands with Steam's billionaire owner."
He spread his hands dramatically. "Daisy. The content writes itself."
Bee nodded vigorously. "We've been fed."
Storm coughed into his drink.
Oscar suddenly became very interested in the lights below.
Yixing remained silent.
Entirely too silent.
Dasom noticed and for some reason, that silence made her more nervous than the teasing.
Bee pointed between Storm and Yixing.
"So?"
Dasom stared at her.
Bee stared back.
Jean stared too.
Even Asher looked mildly curious now.
Unbelievable.
The betrayal ran deep.
Dasom slowly looked around the table.
One by one.
Her best friends.
Oscar.
Storm.
Yixing.
Then she sighed dramatically. "If I answer, you all have to stop asking questions for the next hour."
Bee gasped. "She's negotiating."
Jean sat up straighter. "Oh, we're getting somewhere."
Dasom immediately regretted opening her mouth.
Bee's eyes suddenly lit up.
"You can always take a shot if you don't wish to answer, Daisy," she teased.
Dasom's eyes widened.
A loophole. Beautiful.
Without hesitation, she reached toward one of the untouched shots sitting in the centre of the table.
Freedom was within reach. Her fingers had only just wrapped around the glass when a voice interrupted.
"Okay, you don't have to answer."
Everyone turned.
Storm looked entirely too amused. He rested an elbow against the table, his expression calm and relaxed.
"I know you don't want to hurt anyone's feelings because you'd choose me."
For a beat, the table went silent, then they burst into laughter.
Bee was so delighted she nearly fell onto Asher.
Jean clutched his chest dramatically.
Oscar covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his laugh.
Even Asher looked impressed.
Dasom stared at Storm speechlessly.
Storm simply reached over and took the shot from her hand.
"But," he continued casually, lifting the glass, "since I'm taking this shot for you…"
His eyes met hers.
Steady.
Playful.
Confident.
"…you owe me a date." Then, before anyone could react, he winked and downed the shot.
The table erupted. "OOOOHHHHHHHH!"
Jean practically stood up from his seat. "OH HE'S SMOOTH WITH IT!"
Bee grabbed Dasom's arm and shook it violently. "DAISY!"
Oscar laughed openly now. "I'll admit, that was well played."
Even Asher gave a small nod of approval.
Dasom could only blink.
Once.
Twice.
Her face had gone noticeably warm.
Meanwhile, Storm calmly set the empty glass back on the table as though he hadn't just detonated a social grenade in the middle of their group.
Then, as if remembering something, he looked toward her.
"So…" His voice remained perfectly even. "Three and a half weeks, right?"
The man had remembered. Of course he had.
Bee looked moments away from ascending.
Jean had already mentally started planning their wedding.
Oscar looked amused.
Asher looked entertained.
And Yixing— he had fallen very, very quiet.
Dasom's cheeks warmed a delicate shade of pink.
Her blush did not go unnoticed.
Across from her, Yixing's expression remained perfectly composed.
Stoic.
Refined.
Unreadable.
Yet somehow, the look in his eyes seemed to darken ever so slightly.
"Fine," Dasom relented with a bright smile. "I owe you a date."
Storm's smile widened.
"Excellent. I'll start planning."
The table erupted into cheers once more.
Bee looked moments away from bursting.
Jean looked like he'd just witnessed the greatest play of the century.
Oscar, meanwhile, seemed entirely pleased with how the evening had unfolded.
Yixing took a sip of his whiskey.
Calmly.
Smoothly.
Internally, however, his thoughts were far less composed.
Those sunshine smiles belong to me.
The thought appeared so suddenly that even he was mildly alarmed by it.
Mine?
Since when?
He almost frowned into his glass.
This was ridiculous.
He wasn't seventeen.
And yet, watching her smile at another man felt strangely unpleasant.
Very unpleasant.
He decided not to examine that feeling too closely.
The game continued.
One by one, each person at the table was asked a question.
If they didn't wish to answer, they had to take a shot.
Naturally, Bee weaponised the game immediately.
Jean wasn't far behind.
By the time it reached Yixing, everyone was considerably more relaxed.
And perhaps a little tipsy.
Jean leaned forward with the grin of a man about to cause trouble.
"Cousin."
Yixing looked up.
Jean's smile widened.
"Do you have your heart set on someone at the moment?"
The table collectively quieted.
Even Bee paused mid-sip.
Yixing didn't answer immediately.
His gaze drifted briefly downward.
Thoughtful.
Measured.
Then his hand moved toward one of the shots.
Bee gasped.
Jean leaned in.
Oscar raised an eyebrow.
But before his fingers reached the glass, Yixing spoke.
"Yes."
Silence.
Then—
"OOOOHHHHHHHH!"
The table exploded.
Bee nearly screamed.
Jean slammed the table dramatically.
"YOU DO?!"
Even Storm looked surprised.
Asher, who rarely reacted strongly to anything, blinked.
Oscar's expression shifted ever so slightly.
Interesting.
Jean immediately leaned forward.
"Who?"
Yixing looked almost amused now.
"Nope."
He took another sip of whiskey.
"That wasn't part of the question."
The table groaned in unison.
"Cheater!"
"Coward!"
"That's not fair!"
Yixing merely allowed the faintest smile to touch his lips.
For once, he looked entirely satisfied with himself.
The game continued.
Questions.
Laughter.
Teasing.
Stories from university.
Childhood embarrassments.
By now, Dasom and Bee had become noticeably more animated.
Not drunk.
Not quite.
But definitely buzzing.
Bee wrapped an arm around Dasom dramatically.
"Daisy."
"Mhm?"
"I love you."
Dasom immediately hugged her back.
"I love you too."
Jean pointed. "And this is why women live longer."
Eventually Bee stood up. "Powder room?"
Dasom nodded eagerly. "Powder room."
The two girls linked arms and wandered off together, giggling as they disappeared into the club.
Leaving the men behind.
And, as always seemed to happen when women left a room—
The atmosphere changed immediately.
Subtly, but it shifted. The boys looked at one another.
Jean smiled.
This was about to get interesting...
----
In the powder room…
The powder room was almost as extravagant as the rest of Steam. It had soft lighting, marble counters, floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Even the hand soap looked expensive.
Bee immediately grabbed Dasom by both shoulders the second they were alone.
"Daisy!!"
Dasom blinked. "What?"
"You are very much enjoying Mister Storm!?"
Dasom nearly laughed.
"I mean…" She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "He's a sweet guy."
Bee gasped dramatically. "A sweet guy?!"
"What?"
"Do you hear yourself?" Bee placed a hand over her heart.
"The Daisy Lee I know does not use sweet guy language unless she is interested."
Dasom opened her mouth to protest. Then paused, because…
Perhaps Bee wasn't entirely wrong.
"He asked me out on a date," she admitted quietly.
Bee's eyes widened so dramatically they looked ready to leave her face.
"HE WHAT?!"
Several women nearby glanced over.
Bee lowered her voice only slightly. "When?"
"Upstairs."
"UPSTAIRS?!"
Dasom immediately covered Bee's mouth.
"Shhh!"
Bee's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Daisy, you two looked so good together on the dance floor."
Dasom laughed softly. "Really?"
"Yes!"
Bee nodded emphatically. "And you may not have noticed because you were busy enjoying yourself, but he was being incredibly respectful."
That caught Dasom's attention.
Bee leaned closer conspiratorially. "He looked super nervous when you turned around and danced with your back to him."
Dasom blinked. "He did?"
Bee nodded. "Mm-hmm. I was watching."
Of course she was.
"He looked like he was internally asking for consent from every ancestor in your family."
Dasom burst into laughter. "Bee!"
"I'm serious!"
Bee giggled. "He was so careful with you. Protective too."
Dasom thought back to the dance floor.
The crowd.
His hand on her waist.
The way he'd carried her through the crowd without making a fuss about it. Her chest warmed slightly.
"Really?" she asked quietly.
Bee nodded. "You missed it because you were too busy being in the moment."
Dasom smiled. "I was pretty into the music."
"Mhmm." Bee's expression suddenly turned mischievous. "Now..."
Her eyes narrowed. "A certain Mr. Nicia has been in a mood since you and Storm started hanging out."
Dasom blinked. "Yixing?"
Bee looked scandalised. "Who else?"
Dasom frowned thoughtfully.
She hadn't noticed anything unusual.
Well…
Maybe he had been quieter, but Yixing was often reserved. Wasn't he?
"He seems normal to me."
Bee stared at her.
Then stared harder. "Daisy."
"What?"
Bee gently placed both hands on her shoulders.
"Respectfully..."
She leaned in. "You are brilliant."
Dasom smiled proudly. "Thank you."
Bee smiled back. "Mostly when it comes to computers."
Dasom's smile faltered. "…rude."
Bee laughed. "I'm serious! That man has been staring at you all night."
Dasom blinked. "No he hasn't."
Bee gave her a look. The kind of look only best friends could give.
The girl, please look.
"As for Oscar…" Bee continued. "He seems genuinely aloof though."
That part, Dasom actually agreed with.
Oscar had always been steady.
Reliable.
Calm.
He cared deeply for people but rarely demanded anything in return.
She smiled softly. "That's just Oscar."
Bee hummed.
"Maybe."
Then her eyes lit up again.
"But tonight?"
She pointed dramatically. "You have a billionaire club owner taking shots for you."
"Bee—"
"A Don heir quietly staring holes into the dance floor."
"Bee!"
"And your brother's future executive secretary showing up at two in the morning in pyjamas because you cried."
Dasom froze, her cheeks warmed immediately. "Oh no."
Bee grinned triumphantly. "Oh yes."
Dasom realised her love life might actually be becoming complicated.
Dasom touched up her lip liner in the mirror before spraying a light mist of perfume onto her wrists.
Beside her, Bee was doing much the same—dabbing oil blotting sheets against her forehead before carefully refreshing her lipstick.
The familiar routine felt oddly grounding amidst the chaos of the night.
Bee caught her reflection in the mirror.
"So?" she asked casually, though the excitement in her voice gave her away. "What happened upstairs exactly?"
Dasom tried to look nonchalant. "Well…"
She adjusted her dress. "Storm asked me on a date before we came downstairs."
Bee froze and her lipstick hovered mid-air. "And what was your answer?!"
Dasom met her eyes in the mirror. "I said yes."
Bee gasped so loudly that another woman at the sink glanced over.
"You WHAT?!"
Dasom laughed. "Bee, keep your voice down!"
Bee grabbed her arm. "So he took that shot in front of everyone after you'd already said yes?"
Dasom blinked. "Well… yeah."
Bee's jaw dropped. "That's even worse."
"Worse?"
"Better!" Bee corrected immediately. "Way better."
She stared at Dasom in disbelief. "So he basically staked his claim in front of the entire table?"
She clutched her chest dramatically. "That's kinda hot."
Dasom burst into laughter.
"It was super attractive, not gonna lie." She shook her head, still smiling.
"But you're such a traitor for putting me on the spot like that." Dasom lightly hugged Bee from behind.
"I hate you." Her voice lacked any real venom.
Bee laughed and leaned back into the embrace.
"I had to liven up the table! Sacrifices had to be made."
She turned and hugged Dasom back. "You took it like a champ though."
Dasom groaned. "I nearly died."
"No, you blushed."
"That's even worse."
Bee cackled.
When they finally separated, Bee stepped back and admired her handiwork in the mirror.
Then she looked at Dasom. Really looked at her.
Her best friend looked happier.
Not entirely healed.
But lighter.
And after everything she'd endured over the years, Bee couldn't help but feel relieved.
Her expression softened. "I can't wait to see how things go between you two."
Dasom's smile faltered slightly. Not from uncertainty but from surprise because for the first time in a long time Dasom was looking forward to finding out too.
The girls stood before the mirror, wrapped in a hug.
This time, Bee had her arms around Dasom from behind, resting her chin lightly on her shoulder.
Together, their reflections smiled back at them beneath the soft lighting of Steam's powder room.
For a moment, neither said anything.
Then Bee's expression softened. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
Dasom blinked. "Of course. Why?"
Bee shrugged lightly.
"Nothing, nothing." Her arms tightened around her best friend.
"I just worry about you."
The sincerity in her voice immediately made Dasom's chest tighten.
Bee looked at her through the mirror. "I just want you to make the choices you actually want to make."
She paused and took a breath.
Bee continued. "Not because of other people. Not in favour of others. Just…"
She paused, searching for the right words.
"Choose selfishly sometimes."
Dasom raised a brow. "Selfishly?"
"In a healthy way," Bee quickly corrected. "A good way."
Her voice trembled slightly. "Because you deserve to."
To Dasom's surprise, Bee's eyes had begun to glisten.
The sight made her own eyes sting immediately.
"Hey," Dasom laughed weakly. "I just touched up my makeup."
She sniffled. "Don't make me cry."
Bee let out a watery laugh.
The two stood there quietly for a moment. Years of friendship, growing up together, surviving grief and distance and change.
All reflected in that mirror.
Dasom smiled. "Bee."
"Mhm?"
"I'll always choose what makes me happy."
She met her own reflection. And perhaps, for a brief moment, she was also speaking to the twelve-year-old girl she'd once been.
"I promised myself I would."
Her voice grew lighter.
"Partly because I refuse to give our enemies the satisfaction of taking any more from me."
Bee's eyes widened.
Then she smiled proudly.
"Good." Her answer was immediate. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
Just as the moment settled between them, the powder room door opened.
Two women stepped inside.
The click of their heels echoed sharply against the marble floor.
Dasom froze.
Bee froze.
The newcomers froze too.
A beat of silence passed.
Then another.
Standing near the entrance were identical twins.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Impeccably dressed.
Lara and Sophie Mayview.
The Mayviews.
A family whose influence rivalled the Four Dons in certain circles—particularly in finance and international trade.
Though business rivalry was one thing.
School had been another battlefield entirely.
Growing up, the twins had competed with Dasom in everything.
Grades.
Academic competitions.
Scholarships.
And much to their eternal frustration Dasom Lee had almost always come out on top.
Elementary school had been particularly brutal.
The Mayview twins had often placed second.
Dasom had often placed first.
It had become something of a running joke among their teachers.
The "eternal silver medalists."
Not that either twin had found it amusing.
Then Dasom had moved abroad.
And just like that their rivalry had ended before it ever truly could.
The twins hadn't seen Dasom or Bee in nearly nine years.
Not since Finland.
Recognition dawned across all four faces at once.
Sophie blinked first.
Then Lara.
Their eyes widened. "Dasom Lee?"
Bee slowly smiled. "Oh."
Her voice carried just enough dramatic flair to signal trouble.
"This should be interesting."