The crowd watched with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation as Marcus approached the beam setup. His initial leap was genuinely impressive—landing on one toe with the wine glass steady in his hand, he took a deep breath as his spiritual energy concentrated around his toe, then he began. Slowly at first, then at the same speed as Master Chen, he started sliding across the beam.
"What's going on, he seems to be… doing well," someone murmured grudgingly.
"This technique… looks quite sound."
"Perhaps we judged too quickly?" another said doubtfully.
"I.. I am sure it's just a fluke. Just keep watching." said another still half convinced.
Marcus's smirk grew more pronounced with each passing moment. His confidence soared with each successful movement, and Vincent could see the predatory satisfaction in his expression.
That's right, Marcus thought with growing confidence. Now they're seeing what real skill looks like. Ingrain it in your rotten brains—this is the difference between a warrior and your corporate performers. After this, they'll know who the superior man is.
The first third of the beam posed no challenge. Marcus crossed it flawlessly, his confidence soaring, his smirk growing with each successful inch. Several guests looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Some nodded approvingly, while others looked embarrassed by their earlier mockery.
Marcus looked at Celia, who appeared equally surprised as everyone else, then his gaze slowly moved to Vincent and the women beside him, who were watching him intently with excited expressions. There was a gleeful look in Marcus's eyes. Although I don't like used goods, I am still open for a casual relationship before I get together with Celia.
Marcus didn't know that Olivia's intense stare and Helena's excited eyes were because of Vincent's earlier words. He had promised them a good show and they won't stop until they get it.
When Marcus reached one-third of the full beam, he found himself at the same spot where Master Chen had executed his first front flip. Deciding to truly show off—and with the crowd's attention clearly focused on him—Marcus attempted to replicate the same move that had earned Master Chen such praise. After all, if he could do it while using only one toe, that would demonstrate his vast superiority.
He jumped, his body moving forward in a graceful circle. The audience held their breath, and just as Marcus's toe was about to touch the beam again, just as his grin was about to grow even wider—
"Alas, you messed with the wrong person," Master Chen shook his head, muttering under his breath.
—Slip—
The change was instantaneous and catastrophic. Marcus's usually perfect balance failed as his toe found no grip whatsoever on the surface. His eyes widened in shock, his grin vanishing, replaced by disbelief. His body began to tilt, arms windmilling desperately as he tried to compensate for the unexpected loss of friction.
The wine from the glass splashed over him and below. He moved his hands instinctively to grab the beam, but then again—
—Slip—
He looked at the lubricant on his hand with utter horror as he began his downfall. His first downfall but definitely not the last.
"Fuck!"
William was standing beside the table laden with exotic food and wine. He had been tense lately because of the escalating war between Meridian and Annapurna. He knew this wasn't good for his enterprise.
"Perhaps we really need to negotiate on this," he muttered to himself.
—Splash—
Suddenly there was red on his pure white tuxedo. It seem to be… wine?
William looked left and right, cursing half in anger and half in confusion, not knowing how dared to do it and where it came from.
"What the—"
"Fuck!"
A curse, louder than his own, sounded above. His head jolted upward and his pupils shrank. It was going to be a moment William would never forget until the day of his death. A man with an expression contorted in rage and humiliation, red wine soaking his clothes like someone's bladder had gone wrong, was falling toward him like a meteor of misfortune.
Marcus's thoughts churned, and the best course of action he could think of was to land with a front flip and save his dignity. He didn't have time to think about the lubricant or the mastermind behind it. So he tried just that. As Marcus's body rolled mid-air and his foot touched the floor in front of William—
—Slip—
"Aaaahhh noooo you mother—"
Unfortunately, William could neither escape nor complete his sentence as a face that could literally kill came toward him at breakneck speed.
Time seemed to slow as Marcus's momentum carried him forward. William's eyes widened in horror as he realized his fate was sealed. And then, in a moment that would haunt both men forever, their faces met.
Their eyes locked.
And they kissed.
Literally.
The impact was immediate and devastating. Marcus's wine-soaked lips crashed into William's with the force of a falling boulder. William tried to shout in protest, his mouth opening instinctively, but as he did, their tongues met in the most horrifying dance imaginable.
"MMMPH—BLEUUURGH!" William's muffled cry turned into immediate retching as their tongues intertwined for that split second of absolute nightmare.
For a moment that felt like an eternity, time froze—two grown men, locked in the most unwanted and revolting embrace in the history of Autumnvale's high society.
But gravity wasn't finished with them.
The momentum sent both men tumbling backward into the exquisite buffet table. William's back hit the table first, sending platters flying in all directions. Marcus landed on top of him, and together they crashed through the spread of delicacies.
CRASH!
The aromatic biriyani exploded around them like confetti, rice and spices painting their faces in a mosaic of humiliation. Spaghetti followed, long strands wrapping around their necks like the world's most embarrassing nooses. Wine bottles toppled, their contents mixing with the chaos to create a soup of disaster.
Marcus rolled off William, both men now thoroughly decorated in what had been a five-star meal. William sat up, sputtering and gagging, his face twisted in absolute revulsion.
"BLEH! BLEH! BLEH!" William frantically scraped his tongue with his hands, his eyes wild with disgust. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" He clawed at his mouth like a man possessed, spitting repeatedly.
The entire ballroom had fallen silent, watching this catastrophe unfold with the morbid fascination of a carriage wreck.
"YOU—" William's voice cracked as he pointed an accusatory finger at Marcus, still frantically wiping his mouth. But as he tried to speak, his tongue moved in his mouth and he could taste... him. The lingering sensation of another man's lips, the wine, the—
"BLERGH!" William doubled over and retched violently, his whole body convulsing. "HUUUARRGH!" The sound echoed through the silent ballroom as he dry-heaved, his face green with nausea.
After a moment of violent retching, he straightened up, tears streaming down his face from the effort. "YOU MOUTH-RAPED ME! IN PUBLIC! THIS IS ASSAULT!" His voice rose to a hysterical pitch between gasps. "I'LL SUE YOU! CALL THE CITY GUARD! CALL THEM NOWW"
Marcus remained stunned for a long moment, sitting in the wreckage of biryani and spaghetti, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. Wine dripped from his hair, rice clung to his clothes, and the taste of another man's lips lingered in a way that made his stomach churn.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Protagonist Marcus has been humiliated in public
Marcus LP— -150 Vincent LP— +150 VP— +300
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Protagonist Marcus's pride has cracked and he feels traumatized
Marcus LP— -100 Vincent LP— +100 VP— +200
Then, slowly, the reality of his situation began to sink in.
His reputation. His image. His pride.
All of it, destroyed in a single, catastrophic moment.
Marcus's face began to darken, his hands clenching into fists. The veins in his neck bulged as rage—pure, unadulterated rage—began to build within him. His spiritual energy started to fluctuate wildly, and the temperature around him seemed to drop several degrees.
"Someone..." his voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the promise of violence. "Someone... is going to die tonight."
The crowd which could barely hold back it's laughter collectively took a step back as Marcus slowly rose to his feet, biryani falling from his shoulders like the remnants of his dignity. His eyes swept the room with murderous intent, searching for the architect of his humiliation.
Vincent, meanwhile, watched from his position with Helena and Olivia, a barely concealed smile playing at his lips. Helena was covering her mouth with both hands, body trembling as she buried her head in his chest trying desperately not to laugh, while Olivia had turned completely red, whether from embarrassment of Vincent grabbing her waist or suppressed laughter, it was hard to tell.
"Well," Vincent murmured to his companions, "I did promise you ladies a good show."
P.S— I think this is the best written chapter from me so far. What do you guys think? Tell me in the comments.