Sophie didn't know how long she had been hiding in the restroom. Eventually she came back to her senses and stared for a long time at the pale, numb-faced girl in the mirror…
Silently, she told herself: This is his world, a world you never knew existed.
She lowered her head again, turned the faucet back on, and kept splashing cold water on her face, desperate to wake herself up. She was searching for a reasonable excuse, something comforting enough to convince herself that she could accept this version of Ned, that she could face the depravity right in front of her with understanding and indifference.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't persuade her own heart. The path she wanted to take was a dead end. She was terrified that once she stepped onto it, there would be no turning back. That road was lined with thorns and shrouded in fog; even if she tried to turn around halfway, she would be covered in wounds, torn and bleeding, only to sink deeper and deeper…
She washed her face over and over, scrubbed her hands until red patches appeared on her skin and her cheeks stung, yet she still didn't dare stop.
Subconsciously, she wanted to wash something away. But in truth, there was nothing she could ever wash clean…
Still, she kept repeating the motion, taking huge, gulping breaths until she could barely breathe at all.
Inside the club's ultra-luxurious private booth, the seven men—joined by a few more women who had slipped in midway—now totaled over twenty people. They carried on drinking, playing drinking games, singing, dancing. The mood grew even wilder. No one seemed to notice that Sophie still hadn't returned.
"Guys, no need to clear the room. Keep having fun. I'll be leaving in a bit." Ned peeled the red-dressed woman off his body and walked straight to the bar, pouring himself a glass of brandy.
"You heard the man! Ned says we're good—no clearing out. Let's get wild!" The man in the sapphire-blue shirt yanked Mary—who had already returned from the restroom—into his arms and kissed her hard on the lips. "Tonight you're mine!" The woman beside him leaned in, her right hand slowly sliding inside his open shirt, fingers tracing his chest muscles with unmistakable intent.
Ned glanced at them getting carried away, leaned back against the bar, and teased, "Ryan, when I was on my way here, Janny texted me. She says you've been ignoring her all night. She's waiting for you at C&C—has been the whole evening."
Ryan's face darkened with fury. He shoved Mary, who was practically draped over him, away with force and narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell didn't you say something sooner?"
Ned smiled, swirling the brandy in his glass. "Want me to tell her you're spending the night here so she can stop waiting?"
"No need for that," Ryan said stiffly, biting off each word. "Just let her wait—" At the same time, he yanked the woman beside him into a brutal embrace.
"Ow, easy, you're hurting me, Ryan…" Mary pretended to squirm and pout coquettishly.
The other men watched Ryan like they were waiting for the next act in a play.
Archibald had already shaken off the two beauties clinging to him long ago. He pointed at Ned and Ryan, thoroughly annoyed. "Both of you, get the hell out. The farther the better." He snapped, "I finally get a night out to have some fun, and you two ruin the whole mood."
"You, Ryan—go do whatever the hell you're supposed to be doing and stop putting on this damn show. You chased that girl for three years before she finally said yes. You're engaged. You're getting married next year. And you're starting some stupid hot-and-cold war with her? People like us might look shiny on the outside, but we all know what's underneath. Do you think real feelings are something we can just toy with and throw away? Cherish her, damn it."
"And you, Ned—what the hell did you bring her here for? Take her and get out. Don't drag her into this cesspool. Isn't it filthy enough already?"
The entire booth suddenly fell silent.
At those pointed words, the dozen or so women scattered across the sofas, the balcony, and the bar went pale. Led by the woman in the red dress, they stormed out of the room in a furious wave.
The man who had been standing by the window the whole time remained as coldly impassive as ever.
Ryan, now visibly irritated, asked, "When exactly are you leaving?" His voice was icy and calm—so different from the teasing tone he'd used earlier that he seemed like a different person.
At that moment, the door to the booth swung open. Sophie was back.
Ned set down his brandy glass, clapped his hands once, and said, "Right now."
He grabbed Sophie's hand. Her fingers were ice-cold. He glanced sideways at her, not the least bit surprised. He knew tonight had terrified her. For a good girl, the shock was simply too much.
Still holding her hand, he led her out to the parking garage. The club's valet area was a world of its own—extravagantly luxurious and imposing. An entire row of top-tier imported supercars gleamed under the lights, and beside each car stood a uniformed valet attendant, waiting at perfect attention.
At the car door, Sophie lowered her head and stared at her hands. "It seems you're completely used to this lifestyle," she said quietly. "But it's not a normal way to live."
"I won't deny it," Ned replied, picking up where she left off. "I was born into it. This is the life I was destined for." His answer was cool, almost detached.
"Nothing is destined," Sophie whispered, closing her eyes. "This is just the real you, isn't it?"
Ned gave a faint, humorless smile. "You're such a contradictory woman. You said you wanted to know everything about me, but the moment you glimpse one tiny corner of the iceberg, you shrink back." The smile slowly faded from his eyes. "This is only part of my life, yes, but it's an indispensable part: the nightlife."