The sun was dipping low by the time Jason finally dragged himself back to the workshop. He had stopped by his small apartment to wash off the lingering traces of perfume and the heavy weight of last night. A hot shower, a change of clothes, and a few minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror had been enough to push away the confusion Mariana had left him with. He felt lighter now, sharper. As he stepped into the workshop, he carried not only his usual calm confidence but also the faint smile of a man who had survived a dangerous dance and come out with money in his pocket.
The clang of steel, the hiss of welding torches, and the smell of oil greeted him. But before he could even settle into his space, his coworkers began to notice.
"Well, well, well—look who decided to show up," one of the guys at the back shouted, grinning wide.
"If it isn't Mr. Confident himself!" another teased, wiping grease off his hands as he walked toward Jason.
Laughter rippled through the shop. Tools were dropped, gloves pulled off, and slowly, like moths to flame, the crew gathered around Jason's workspace.
Sam, always the loudest voice in the room, elbowed his way through the group and threw an arm dramatically over Jason's shoulders. "So, Jason… tell us. Did you survive the golden palace? Or did you come back a billionaire overnight?"
The men erupted in laughter. Jason rolled his eyes but smirked. "Survive? Sam, you make it sound like I walked into a lion's den."
"You did!" someone shouted from the back. "A lioness with golden claws!"
Jason chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned casually against his workbench. He decided not to resist their curiosity. In fact, he welcomed it. After the chaos of the past twenty-four hours, he could use some laughter.
"Alright, alright," Jason began, raising a hand to quiet them. "Let me tell you how it went. First of all, the car that came to pick me up…" He paused dramatically, letting the silence hang before grinning. "A Rolls Royce Phantom. Glossy black. Shining like it was made just yesterday. I swear, I almost thought Sam was gonna pop out of the trunk yelling 'surprise!'"
The shop exploded with laughter. One of the welders bent over clutching his stomach, nearly falling off his stool.
Jason smirked, continuing, "And the best part? When I stepped in, they offered me wine. Fancy stuff. You know me, I don't even like wine. Tastes like disappointment in liquid form. But I had to pretend, you know? Had to swirl it in the glass like I was some movie star. I almost choked."
The men howled again. Sam slapped his knee, laughing so hard tears gathered at the corner of his eyes.
"Then we arrived at her house. And when I say house… no, no. This was not a house. This was a palace. The walls literally looked like they'd been touched with gold. The compound was bigger than this entire street. And then…" Jason leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "…bodyguards. Everywhere. Suits, sunglasses, the works. I thought I was walking into a movie set."
"Bodyguards?" one of the guys asked, wide-eyed. "She never came here with anyone."
"My point exactly," Jason said, raising his brows. "When she shows up at the workshop, it's like she's just another customer. But in her world? She's got an army at her command. And then she welcomed me in like… like it was some sort of date."
"Date!" Sam roared, slapping Jason on the back. "Jason, my man! Mr. Confident strikes again!"
Jason chuckled but quickly added, "Hold your horses. We ate, we talked, and let's just say she has a way of turning every conversation into a challenge. She kept asking me questions—about my life, about whether I had someone, about what my plans were. And you all know me. I can't exactly tell her I've got a magical system in my head."
The guys laughed again. Jason smirked, then sighed, slipping into the serious part of the story.
"She… offered to help me. With money. At first, it sounded like charity, and you know I hate that. But she was serious. She said she wanted something in return, though she didn't even know what it was yet. Then later…" Jason trailed off, eyes flicking briefly to Sam, "…things got complicated."
That made the crew lean closer, hungry for gossip.
"Complicated?" one of them asked.
Jason smirked again, deliberately vague. "Let's just say the night was long. And she… well, she's not exactly the woman I thought she was."
The men erupted with cheers and laughter again, interpreting his vague words however they pleased.
Sam clapped his hands together. "I knew it! I knew you'd pull it off, Jason. And you got paid, right?"
Jason's expression didn't change, but the way he said his next word made everyone laugh even harder. "Yes."
Just that. One word, drawn out in a tone so dry and mischievous that the entire crew bent over in laughter.
Jason finally waved his hand, dismissing them. "Alright, alright, show's over. Back to work. I need to talk to Sam alone."
There were groans of protest, but one by one, the men drifted back to their stations, still chuckling and shaking their heads. Jason waited until the noise of welding and hammering filled the workshop again before turning to Sam.
The two friends shared a quiet laugh, their own private joke in the middle of the chaos. Then Sam leaned against the bench, crossing his arms.
"Alright, Jason. Enough theatrics. Now that you've got the money… what's the plan?"
Jason's smile lingered for a moment before his expression hardened. His eyes sharpened, his jaw set. "I already told you before, Sam. The underground street fighting tournament. But I won't jump straight into the big leagues. I'll start small. Low-betting fights. Work my way up."
Sam frowned slightly, though not out of disbelief. "And you think that'll cover Sophie's needs? Those bills won't stop piling up. And her health…"
Jason nodded firmly. "I know. That's why I can't waste time. I need to win. I need to build up fast. And I'll need you, Sam."
Sam's brows rose. "Me?"
"Yes," Jason said. "You've got connections. We both know you're still tight with Victor, your friend on the inside. He's been managing fighters for years. If anyone can get me a spot in those underground matches, it's him."
Sam was quiet for a long moment, staring at Jason. The joking atmosphere of earlier had vanished. He studied his friend's face—the determination, the desperation hidden behind the confidence. Finally, he sighed.
"You really think you can do this, Jason? Those fights… they're brutal. It's not just about fists and strength. Some of those men fight like animals. And if you lose—"
"I won't lose," Jason cut him off, his voice calm but steady. "I can't afford to. For Sophie, I'll fight like my life depends on it. Because it does. And I need you to believe in me, Sam."
Sam exhaled, then smirked faintly, shaking his head. "Damn it, Jason. You always drag me into your madness." He extended his hand. "Fine. I'll reach out to Victor. Let's see if we can get you in."
Jason clasped his hand firmly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's all I need."
The workshop noise carried on around them, but for Jason and Sam, the world had narrowed down to this one decision. The beginning of something dangerous, something that could either save Sophie… or destroy Jason completely.