San Francisco at night was a restless machine.Streetcars rattled on their tracks, neon signs buzzed above liquor stores, and the bay wind carried the mingled scents of salt, gasoline, and fried food. The city pulsed with ambition — but not everyone moved in step with its rhythm.
Among the rushing crowds, a man lagged behind.Tall enough to stand out, yet slouched as if gravity clung heavier to him than others. His hair was messy, black strands refusing order no matter how often he ran a hand through them. Dark circles framed his eyes, giving him the look of someone forever one night short of sleep. A loose hoodie hung from narrow shoulders, jeans worn and faded, sneakers dragging untied at the edges.
He yawned again, scratching his neck as though even staying awake was too much effort.Twenty-seven years old, yet his posture spoke more of weariness than youth.
"Hah… always so boring."
He muttered as he poured a glass of water, then slumped back into the glow of his computer screen. The apartment smelled faintly of instant noodles and stale coffee — the signature perfume of someone who lived more with machines than with people.
"Maybe I need a break."
Phone in hand, he opened Maps, scrolling lazily through the night's options. One name caught his eye: Pub Crawl. Bright photos flashed across the screen — neon signs, sweat-glossed bodies, laughter frozen mid-cheer.
"Wow… interesting." A smirk tugged at his lips.
Normal, right? I'm twenty-seven. Nothing wrong with wanting a little fun.
He shrugged into his jacket and stepped outside.San Francisco swallowed him whole — headlights streaking past, strangers brushing by, music thudding faintly from a block away. The city vibrated with life, while he walked with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, imagining the kind of trouble he might stumble into tonight.
He raised a hand to flag a taxi. Nothing.Cabs slid past without slowing, their drivers too busy chasing better fares. He let his arm fall with a sigh.
"Great. Invisible again."
Another sigh, another step. Around him, sleek cars prowled the street, music spilling from open windows, laughter from college kids too drunk to care who they woke. A black convertible shot past, its backseat crowded with girls shrieking with joy. The driver grinned like he owned the world.
His jaw tightened. Why can't I be that guy? I'm not ugly. Handsome enough, right?
He slowed in front of a glass storefront, catching his reflection in the dark pane. Hoodie, messy hair, shadows under his eyes. Not terrible. He straightened, ran a hand through his hair, tilted his jaw.
"Yeah," he muttered, "I could pull it off. If I had the cash."
"But you don't."
The voice was right behind him.
He spun, startled.
A girl stood there.She couldn't have been more than twenty, yet her presence bent the air around her. Blonde hair, sleek and golden, spilled from beneath a black cap. Her skin was pale, flawless — the kind that seemed to glow even under cheap streetlights. And her eyes… icy blue, sharp as shattered glass, so clear he felt like she could see straight through him.
She wore a cropped white top that revealed a toned waist, black shorts, spotless white sneakers. Simple clothes, yet deliberate. Petite, maybe one-sixty, but she carried herself like she was six feet tall.
He blinked, words stuttering in his throat.
"So," she said, tilting her head with casual arrogance, "what are you doing here, bro?"
"I… uh… nothing. Just—"
"Checking yourself out, wondering why no girl wants you, telling yourself you're handsome enough?" Her lips curled into a half-smile, mocking but elegant.
His ears burned. "Wait, what—hey, are you mocking me?"
She chuckled, the sound cutting sharper than laughter had any right to. "Relax. Girls aren't blind. But they're not stupid either. Handsome doesn't pay rent. Handsome doesn't buy drinks. Money does. That's reality." Her icy eyes slid over him like a knife. "And you? You scream broke boy with excuses."
Speechless, he could only stare.
"But lucky you." She folded her arms. "I'll give you one chance. I'm Valeriya Belgari. Call me Vey. I need someone to tag along tonight."
"…What?"
"Don't look so shocked." She sighed, impatient. "I need a plus one. My colleagues think I'm strange because I always show up alone. And you—" she jabbed a finger at him, "—you look normal enough. Safe."
"Normal?" His voice cracked. "Hold on, you—look at you. You're—"
"Beautiful? Sure." She rolled her eyes. "Heard that before. But don't get the wrong idea. This isn't romance. This is convenience."
"Wait… are you saying you're—"
"Stop." Her eyes cut through him like ice. "Just tell me your name. I don't have time."
Urgency laced her voice. He glanced around. A group of men loitered nearby, their stares fixed on Vey like wolves. Maybe she really did need someone safe.
"…Louis," he said finally. "Louis Chen."
"Good." She grabbed his wrist before he could react. "Let's go."
She dragged him across the street with surprising strength. Louis's steps faltered when he saw where she stopped.
A Porsche 911 Carrera GTS, pearl white, gleaming like liquid silver under the streetlights. Perfectly polished. Perfectly out of his league.
His stomach dropped. Shit. She's rich. Crazy rich.
Vey caught his expression, rolled her eyes. "Get in. You can drive, right?"
"Uh—yeah, but—"
"Then drive. And stop gawking like you've never seen a car before. Poor boy energy is pathetic."
Louis swallowed hard and slid into the driver's seat. The leather hugged him, the dashboard glowing like a cockpit. Even the steering wheel smelled like money.
This night was not going where he expected.
***
The Porsche purred down the street, its engine humming smooth and low. Louis gripped the wheel too tightly, trying to ignore how out of place he felt in a car worth more than his life.
"So… where are we going?" he asked.
"Pub Crawl," Vey said flatly.
His eyebrows lifted. "Seriously? That's perfect. I was actually thinking of going there too. So maybe—"
"Stop talking." Her voice cut like a blade. "Don't get ideas. You're just a prop. This ends tonight. No soap opera. Clear?"
Heat rose in his chest. Before he could reply, she continued.
"Though…" her lips curved into a smirk, "like a soap opera, I'll pay you. Enough for two, three months. What you do with it after? Not my problem. Blow it all in one night chasing 'random chicks.'"
Louis barked a bitter laugh. "Yeah, why not? Two or three sounds about right. Thanks for sponsoring my night, Miss Ice Queen."
Her eyes snapped toward him. "Fuck you. Disgusting." She rolled her eyes, dripping disdain. "But sure. Take them. At least then you won't bother me."
Silence filled the car after that. Only the steady growl of the engine remained.
***
The bass of the music rattled glasses, neon lights bleeding red and purple across the crowded bar. Laughter rose like smoke, too loud, too drunk, too careless.
Vey leaned lazily against Louis, her act flawless."Everyone," she said with a smile, "this is my boyfriend."
The word boyfriend rolled so smoothly off her tongue it almost made Louis believe it himself. Her colleagues nodded, clinked glasses, asked the usual questions.
An hour blurred into two. Shots came, laughter followed, and Louis felt the room tilt. Vey had already slumped against another girl, eyes glazed, her perfect posture collapsing.
It wasn't an act. She was gone.Her cheeks flushed, her voice slurred as she tried to answer someone's question before giving up entirely.
Louis frowned. Shit. She really overdid it.
That was when one of the men leaned close, breath heavy with whiskey."Bro! How lucky you are." He slapped Louis's shoulder. "Vey's one of the most stunning girls in the company. Jackpot."
Louis chuckled weakly, alcohol buzzing in his veins. "Yeah… I think so."
The grin widened. "Bet you're getting a happy ending tonight. How about… sharing?"
Louis froze. "Sharing?" His chest tightened, heat rising in his ribs.
"Don't act shocked." The man smirked. "Plenty of chicks here. We all share, you share too. Fair game."
Something in Louis burned. "Sorry, I'm drunk. Can you… repeat that?"
The man leaned closer, voice dropping. "We spiked their drinks. Little powder. They'll be out cold soon. Then we enjoy the night. Tomorrow? No one remembers."
The world roared in Louis's ears.
His fist moved before he realized.
CRACK!
The man's head snapped sideways, blood spraying across neon. Silence. Then laughter, cruel and sharp.
"Shit, bro." The man wiped his lip, grinning. "You want Vey all to yourself? Greedy bastard."
Louis barely had time to blink.
BUGH!
The punch slammed into his gut like steel. Louis folded, breath ripped out as he hit the floor. The pain wasn't human.
What the fuck… what kind of strength is this?
A ripple spread through the bar. Security pushed through, eyes narrowing at the commotion. For a heartbeat, Louis thought it was over.
But then one of the guards froze. His gaze flicked to the man who'd hit Louis. His posture changed — cautious, almost deferential.
"Bro?" the guard asked.
The man smirked. "No worries. Just teaching this kid a lesson." His voice turned cold. "He'll regret crossing me."
He turned back to Louis, teeth flashing under neon. "See this, man? Your life ends here. At the very least, I'll break your legs tonight… before I enjoy Vey's body."
"Come on, boys. Let's give him a proper lesson in sharing."
They closed in.
Boots. Fists. Laughter raining down.Louis tried to shield his head, but his arms felt like paper. Pain exploded with every hit. Vision blurred. Breath ragged.
"Don't worry, Louis!" the man jeered. "I'll send you some photos of her later. When we're finished."
Louis's rage boiled.It wasn't about the money. It wasn't about being a stand-in boyfriend. It was the way they talked about Vey — like she was nothing but a toy.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to kill. But his body wouldn't move. His lungs burned, his ribs screamed, and the darkness pressed closer.
And then—
"ҖⱯршо… дѣчта… вэлон…"
The voice slithered into his skull. Not from the bar. Not from any human mouth. The syllables twisted, jagged, like something spoken beneath water and glass.
"Фаринт… лаевос… ксада…"
Louis's eyes flew wide. The sounds vibrated in his teeth, rattled in his bones, burrowed into his blood.
What… the hell… is that?
The voices layered, tangled, endless. Too many tongues speaking as one.
"Ксадир… фаэлон… дрѣшта—"
His body gave out. The whispers surged, filling every corner of him as darkness swallowed him whole.
And Louis Chen fell into nothing.