The minutes ticked by with a patience Ethan didn't share. He stood in the corner of the Twilight Hotel's lobby, the polished marble gleaming beneath his shoes, the chandeliers throwing shards of golden light across the floor. The hotel was alive with movement: guests in tuxedos drifting toward the dining halls, women in sequined gowns gliding toward elevators, staff moving with silent precision like stagehands in a grand play.
Ethan adjusted the cuff of his new suit, the brass key still heavy in his palm. He glanced at the clock mounted high on the wall. 9:30 p.m. The hands ticked forward, merciless.
His stomach grumbled softly, a reminder that he hadn't eaten since morning. A day of exams and tension had drained him, and now hunger gnawed at his insides. Tomorrow loomed in his mind as well—another test, another battle at St. Helens, where failure would cut deeper than any mockery. He needed time to revise, time to prepare. This mission had to be quick.
The receptionist's voice broke his thoughts. "Sir," she said, her tone polite but carrying a faint edge of impatience. "Rather than waiting here, why don't you step outside and look at the car you'll be driving? It will save time later."
Ethan blinked, then nodded. She was right. Standing here, gnawed by hunger and nerves, would only waste the night. Better to familiarize himself with the vehicle now.
He slipped through the lobby doors, the cool night air brushing his face. The hotel's driveway stretched before him, a parade of gleaming cars lined up under the sweeping awning. Valets moved briskly, guiding guests in and out of limousines and foreign imports that cost more than entire homes.
Ethan pulled the key from his pocket and pressed the fob.
A sleek black Mercedes-Benz GLE responded, its headlights flashing once, twice, as the locks clicked open with a muted hum.
Ethan froze.
The car sat like a predator crouched on the pavement, its body gleaming under the hotel lights. The grille shimmered with polished chrome, the emblem bold and unflinching. Its lines were sharp yet fluid, a design that spoke of power and refinement in equal measure. He had seen such cars before—but only from a distance, rolling past him on city streets, untouchable, symbols of wealth he could never imagine touching.
And now, the key to one was in his hand.
Mary had given it to him casually, as though it were nothing. As though driving a machine worth hundreds of thousands of dollars was no different from hailing a cab.
His throat tightened. For a moment, he simply stood there, the car reflecting his stunned expression. Then, slowly, he approached, opened the door, and slid inside.
The interior swallowed him in silence. Soft leather hugged the seats, still carrying the faint, intoxicating scent of a car barely broken in. The dashboard glowed with subtle light, screens flickering to life as though recognizing his presence. The steering wheel felt heavy yet smooth beneath his hands, the stitching perfect.
Ethan inhaled, the smell of leather and newness filling his chest. He had driven before—old sedans, delivery vans, machines that rattled and groaned with age. This was different. This was… alive.
He ran his hands over the controls, testing buttons, familiarizing himself with the layout. The car responded with quiet hums and clicks, every feature designed with precision. It was a far cry from the clunky gearshifts and squealing brakes of his past jobs.
For a moment, he forgot the mission, the hotel, even the system itself. It was just him and the car, a machine that represented a world he had always been denied.
A soft knock at the window jolted him.
Ethan turned sharply.
Mary stood outside, framed by the golden light of the hotel entrance.
She was no longer in the dress she had worn earlier. She had changed, and the sight nearly stole Ethan's breath. Her new outfit clung to her curves with effortless grace, the fabric a shade of midnight that shimmered faintly under the lights. It dipped in all the right places, revealing enough to draw every eye yet crafted with the elegance of wealth that made it impossible to call vulgar. A necklace glinted at her throat, subtle yet precise, the finishing touch to an image that radiated power and allure.
Her hair fell in soft waves, and her perfume—richer now, warmer—drifted faintly into the air as she leaned toward the window. Her hand, slender and adorned with a ring that sparkled faintly, tapped once against the glass.
"Open the door," she said, her voice muffled through the pane but clear.
Ethan blinked, then fumbled for the controls, unlocking the door.
Mary opened it smoothly and slid inside.
And Ethan's shock deepened.
He had expected her to slip into the back seat, to settle in the way wealthy passengers always did, creating distance between themselves and the one behind the wheel. That was the natural order—driver and client, servant and master, invisible barrier intact.
Instead, Mary sat beside him. In the front.
Her perfume filled the car instantly, mingling with the scent of leather until Ethan's senses swam. She crossed her legs with quiet grace, the hem of her dress shifting, her body close enough that he could feel the faint brush of warmth against his arm. The faint shimmer of her skin in the low light, the curve of her figure framed by the seatbelt—it was overwhelming.
Ethan gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, forcing his eyes forward. He could feel her presence beside him like a gravitational pull. Every breath he took carried a trace of her perfume, intoxicating, distracting.
He cleared his throat. "You… you want me to drive you now?"
"Yes." Her tone was calm, almost casual, as though nothing about this arrangement was unusual. "To my friend's party. It shouldn't take long."
Her voice was smooth, poised, but when he glanced briefly from the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of something else. A softness, perhaps, or a shadow of curiosity. As though she, too, was testing this closeness, unsure of why she had chosen to sit beside him.
Ethan forced his attention back to the road, turning the key. The engine purred to life, smooth and deep, a sound that carried power restrained beneath elegance. He shifted into gear, guided the car smoothly out of the driveway, and merged into the city streets.
The clock on the dashboard read 10:00 p.m.
The city spread out before them, lights gleaming like a thousand stars trapped in glass. Neon signs pulsed in the distance, the hum of nightlife rising from bars and clubs. Couples walked hand in hand along the sidewalks, laughter spilling into the night. The roads shimmered faintly under streetlamps, reflecting the polished gleam of the car as it slid silently past.
Inside the cabin, silence lingered. Not awkward, but charged. Ethan's focus remained on the road, but his mind raced. Tomorrow's exam. The hunger gnawing at his stomach. The mission's weight, pressing on him like a blade at his throat. And now, Mary beside him, her presence impossible to ignore.
He tightened his grip on the wheel. He couldn't afford distraction. Not tonight.
Yet when Mary shifted slightly in her seat, her perfume drifting closer, her dress brushing faintly as the fabric whispered against itself, Ethan couldn't help the thought that rose unbidden:
The system had thrown him into danger, into uncertainty, into chains of missions and penalties. But tonight, it had also placed Mary beside him. And whatever awaited them at her friend's party, the path ahead was no longer just about survival.
It was about the unknown.
And in that unknown, anything could happen.