"Everyone—quiet, quiet!"
The yellow-haired guy climbed onto a chair, waving his hands dramatically. The DJ reluctantly cut the music mid-beat, earning a wave of curses, boos, and drunk complaints from the crowd.
"Hey! Turn it back on!" "Man, what the hell!" "Five seconds and I riot!"
Laughter echoed as people pushed closer, curiosity winning over irritation.
"We're playing a game!" the yellow-haired guy announced loudly. "A new game. Everyone, gather around. Big circle—yeah, bigger!"
People stumbled into place, some dragging their friends, others already half drunk and leaning on shoulders. Girls perched on couches, boys sat cross-legged on the floor, a few couples stayed glued together, whispering and laughing while watching the scene unfold.
"Each person gets a number," he continued, his friends helping distribute small cards. "When your number is called, you pick a card. It'll tell you one of two things—either you date the person next to you, or you say the one thing you hate most about them."
Cheers erupted.
"And you argue it out," he added with a grin. "Until one of you can't say a word anymore. Then we move on."
"This sounds messy," someone yelled happily.
Prim slipped into the circle, hands in his pockets, eyes bright with amusement.
Yeah… this is going to be fun, he thought.
"Hey, Haley—where are you going?" one of the yellow-haired guy's friends called out, grabbing her wrist lightly and pulling her from the crowd. "Come play."
Haley hesitated but was dragged into the circle anyway, her expression stiff.
Emily appeared moments later, drink in hand, heels clicking softly against the floor.
"What's going on?" she asked lazily.
Sandra, already glowing with alcohol and arrogance, smirked. "A game. You should join."
Emily raised a brow but said nothing, taking a slow sip as she leaned against the bar, clearly more interested in watching than participating.
The numbers were handed out. Cards placed on the table.
"Alright," the yellow-haired guy clapped. "We start with Sandra."
Sandra reached for a card and smiled when she read it.
"Oh," she said sweetly. "Tell the truth about someone."
Her gaze slid immediately to Ava, who sat nearby, legs crossed, posture relaxed.
"I think you're a bitch," Sandra said bluntly.
Ava smiled. "I think you're a bimbo."
Laughter rippled through the circle.
Sandra scoffed. "Do you even have dignity? No one likes you. Always pretending you belong, trying to keep up with rich people but too proud to admit it. How's your self-esteem?"
More laughter. Someone whistled.
Ava tilted her head. "How's your self-esteem? Being a fake plastic disaster must be hard. Your jealousy stink ,Can daddy's money not fix jealousy anymore? Or is it your natural body odor acting up?"
The crowd exploded.
Someone nearly fell over laughing. Drinks spilled. Emily spat out her wine, choking as she covered her mouth.
Sandra's face turned crimson.
She stood abruptly and slapped Ava across the face.
The room went silent.
"Oops," Sandra said coldly. "My hand moves on its own when I see poor losers. I like putting them in their place."
Ava blinked once.
Then she laughed.
She grabbed a bottle from the table and smashed it straight against Sandra's head.
Gasps rang out.
"Put your hand on me again," Ava said calmly, shards of glass falling from her grip, "and I'll make you a handicap."
She dusted her hands and smiled innocently.
"When I see a discount version of Ursula, I panic," Ava added lightly. "I go into attack mode. Sorry."
Dead silence.
Then—
Prim burst out laughing.
Emily followed immediately, her laughter sharp and unapologetic.
The crowd broke.
Laughter, whistles, clapping—someone shouted "She deserved it!"
Sandra screamed and tried to grab something only to trip forward as Emily casually stuck out her foot.
"Oh my God," Emily said lazily, sipping her wine. "I must be high. I'm so clumsy."
Sandra crashed face-first onto the floor.
"My nose!" she shrieked, scrambling up.
"You broke my fucking nose!"
She ran off sobbing, her friends scrambling after her.
"Well, that couldn't have gone any worse," the yellow-haired guy said, winking at his friends.
One of them shoved Haley from behind.
Her drink spilled straight onto Emily.
"I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Haley panicked, rushing forward to wipe Emily's clothes. As she bent down, something slipped from her pocket and hit the floor.
A small white container.
The yellow-haired guy picked it up before anyone else could. "This is itching powder," one of his friends said.
"Oh my God!" a girl suddenly screamed. "Emily—your neck!"
Red rashes were already spreading along Emily's skin.
Emily froze, her face stiff for a second, then she turned and rushed toward a room.
"Oh my goodness," a girl yelled in disgust.
"This bitch actually tried to drug Emily!"
"How can you go this low, Haley? Jealous much?" the yellow-haired guy shouted as he rolled up his sleeve and slapped her.
"I didn't drug her!" Haley cried.
They kicked her as she fell, laughter mixing with gasps as phones were raised, recording eagerly.
Ava and Prim exchanged a glance.
Prim sighed and stepped forward just as the yellow-haired guy lifted his hand to hit Haley again.
Using a handkerchief, Prim picked up the container and examined it calmly. Then he smiled.
He took the wine from Haley's hand and poured it over her neck.
Red rashes bloomed instantly.
The crowd went silent.
"It seems someone set her up," Prim said lightly, eyes flicking to the yellow-haired guy, "or are we saying she was stupid enough to drug herself?"
He smirked. "The powder alone won't harm her—but mixed with alcohol?" He tilted his head. "Such a wicked plan. Why don't we call the police and check the fingerprints?
The yellow-haired guy stiffened, glanced at his friends, then pointed at Prim.
"I'll remember you," the yellow-haired guy said coldly before turning and leaving with his friends.
The party fell into an awkward silence.
A second later, the DJ cleared his throat and cranked the music back up. Laughter slowly returned, conversations resumed, and the crowd deliberately looked away—as if nothing had happened.
Haley pushed herself up, wiping her tears with trembling hands. She was about to leave when a hand stopped her.
Prim gently cleaned her face with his handkerchief.
"I'm sorry I did that," he said with a small smile.
"It's fine," Haley replied hoarsely. "You were trying to help. But… how did you know about the drug? No one's mind would go there." She hesitated, then added softly, "You should stop helping me. You'll only get yourself in trouble."
Prim chuckled. "Then maybe you should learn how to stand up for yourself. At least if you're going to get beaten, let them go to hell with you too." His tone was light, almost joking. "A little stabbing joke, you know."
Haley's lips twitched despite herself.
"You don't look like someone who enjoys chaos," she said. "Guess appearances really are deceiving."
"I'm one of a kind," Prim replied casually.
Then his gaze flicked to the faint marks on her face. "Go get yourself treated. A girl shouldn't have scars like that."
He helped her toward the hallway.
Across the room, Ava watched the entire scene and rolled her eyes.
Music pounded through the walls, a heavy bass line leaking from the party hall as colored lights flashed beneath the narrow gap of the double doors.
The hallway just outside was dimmer, washed in a soft red glow from a polished EXIT sign and the shifting colors that slipped through whenever someone opened the double doors. Groups of students staggered past in clusters, laughing too loudly, the air thick with expensive perfume, the faint scent of fine whiskey, and the shimmer of designer gowns brushing past.
A couple was pressed against the wall at the far end, making out passionately, while another guy sat on the floor scrolling his phone, a half-full crystal glass of champagne dangling from his hand.
Near a decorative plant and an immaculate drinks table set with crystal decanters and gold-trimmed glasses, three guys huddled close, their voices low but urgent.
"Fuck, that guy ruined our plan. What are we going to do now?" one of Yellow Hair's friends—the one who had pushed Haley earlier—grumbled, glancing around nervously as another shriek of laughter burst from inside the hall.
"What if they discovered our plan?" another friend asked, licking his lips and shifting from foot to foot.
"Easy. It's our word against theirs," Yellow Hair said, running a hand through his dyed fringe. "I thought you said the drug is unique. No one will suspect a thing. How did he even know it reacts with alcohol?" He turned, eyes narrowing at the guy who'd shoved Haley.
"They won't suspect the real use of the drug," the guy replied, smirking as he toyed with the rim of his crystal glass. "They'll just think the rash is all it does. Who's going to guess it's an aphrodisiac? The moment the rashes clear, that's when it really starts working. You won't be in your right mind.
Everything you do will feel like it's your own decision."
He chuckled, sounding proud of himself.
"You won't be in your right mind. Everything you do will feel like your own decision."He chuckled, eyes gleaming under the soft hallway lights.
"That's why they made it look like a rash. Like some stupid allergic reaction or itching powder," he said. "So doctors or pharmacists won't easily trace the real cause.
"Yellow Hair and the other friend let out a low whistle."Damn… where did you buy that?" Yellow Hair asked, interest sparking in his eyes.
"Sell some to me. That shit will be useful. I won't have to waste time and money at bars, trying to convince girls. Just pour it, and their minds go blank. They'll react, go along with it, and when they wake up, they'll think it was their idea to have sex."They laughed, the sound sharp and ugly against the refined background of soft music and clinking glasses.
One of them clapped the guy's shoulder, calling him a "bad guy" like it was some kind of twisted compliment. A group of girls in glittering dresses walked past, heels clicking on the marble floor, not even glancing their way.
"So what's left is to make sure no guy gets close to Emily," Yellow Hair said, dropping his voice with a satisfied smirk. "We'll make sure she ends up in Mike's room, and they do the deed. Mike will be pleased.
"His friends snickered, adjusting their cuffs and straightening their designer jackets as they started walking away, heading deeper down the corridor to "check" on Emily.
A moment after they turned the corner, a side door along the hallway clicked open.Nathan stepped out.He closed the door behind him with a soft push, leaning his shoulder against it like he had nowhere better to be.
One hand slipped casually into the pocket of his dark, well-fitted trousers, while the other held a cigarette between his fingers. The golden wall sconces washed his face in warm light, highlighting the clean lines of his jaw and the slight curve of his lips. His black shirt was half-buttoned, the collar open just enough to reveal a thin silver chain resting against his collarbone.
He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, taking a slow, unhurried drag. The tip glowed a deep orange, reflecting in his eyes and making them look darker, more amused. When he exhaled, smoke slipped from the corner of his mouth in a thin, lazy stream, curling around his fingers.
He turned his wrist slightly, and the smoke wrapped his knuckles like a soft ribbon before stretching upward, twisting in the warm light.A teasing smile pulled at one side of his lips."Oh… this will be fun," Nathan murmured to himself, his tone light, almost entertained, like he'd just overheard gossip instead of a crime. His gaze followed the direction the boys had gone, eyes glinting with interest.
"Should I play the hero now… or let them embarrass themselves first?"He let out a quiet laugh, low and smooth, almost drowned by the distant beat of the music."Maybe I should wait till Mike actually falls for this stupid trick," he went on, tilting his head slightly as if picturing the scene.
"Then I'll show up, all perfect timing and dramatic, and save the day. Emily will be so impressed."He flicked ash neatly into an abandoned glass on the side table, then dusted his free hand against his pants, like he'd just brushed off something unimportant.
The movement drew attention to the veins along his wrist and the way the smoke still curled and clung to his fingers for a moment before drifting away.Pushing off the door, Nathan straightened and started down the hallway with easy, relaxed strides.
His shoulders were loose, his posture confident, like he was just out for a stroll instead of stepping into someone else's scheme. He took another drag, letting the smoke glide smoothly from his lips and trail over his shoulder as he walked."Alright then," he murmured under his breath, that small, playful smile still tugging at his mouth.
"Let's see how entertaining you make this for me."With that, he followed after them, the soft click of his shoes on marble swallowed by the distant echo of music and laughter.