Time flew by, and I had been attending classes in Paris for some time. During this period, Armand was a frequent topic of discussion among my classmates.
He was a computer science Ph.D., an academic genius, and a dazzling idol on campus. The library was his domain, and some believed that sitting in his usual spot would unknowingly bestow the blessings of the academic deity, leading to improved grades.
But nobody at school knew that I lived with Armand.
In recent school events, I sat in the audience, listening to Armand's remarkable speech as a distinguished representative of the Ph.D. scholars on stage.
The applause reverberated through the auditorium, and everyone seemed captivated by his words. Yet, as I gazed at him from the crowd, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. While he appeared admirable in public, I couldn't forget the cold and arrogant Armand I knew in private.
Outside of school life, to earn money, I had to work as a waitress in a bar that specialized in serving werewolves.
With only a week left until the full moon night, the bar was getting ready for the "Full Moon Mating Party" for werewolves. The bar was decorated with a mysterious ambiance, and I was asked by the manager to wear a pink "Wolf Maid" uniform. The outfit was meant to accentuate my figure, but I found it too revealing.
On that evening, I was busy working at the bar, serving cocktails to the guests.
It was then that I noticed Armand sitting at the bar. He wore his usual dark blue school uniform, contrasting sharply with the festive atmosphere of the bar. Though his attire seemed out of place, his handsome face still attracted the attention of women around him.
I tried to ignore him and focus on my work. However, every time I casually glanced his way, his eyes would lock onto mine, deep and unsettling. It felt as if he was observing me, making me uncomfortable.
Unable to resist any longer, I approached him and whispered, "Armand, why are you here?"
He looked down at me, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Why? Shouldn't I be here?"
I looked at him puzzled, unable to hold back. "Your image doesn't match the atmosphere here at all. Don't you feel out of place?"
He chuckled lightly, a touch of disdain in his tone. "I don't care how others see me."
My words seemed to provoke him, and he began to criticize me. "And you, truly disappointing. Why would a girl from a top university put herself in a place like this? You easily demean yourself, making people look down on you."
I stood there stunned, not expecting him to say such things. I felt angry, but I couldn't refute him and simply lowered my head, unable to meet his gaze.
He continued with a cold smile, "Do you find this kind of life enjoyable? Here, you're just a commodity consumed by others."
Struggling to control my emotions, I suppressed my tears. "You don't understand me at all, who are you to judge me?"
He seemed pleased with my reaction, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Then, what is it that you want? Money? Power? I can give you both."
He suddenly got closer to me, making me feel uneasy. I pushed him away, frustrated, and said, "Stop this now!"
His gaze flickered, and then he sneered. "You're right, I don't understand you at all. You're a mystery, an enigma I can't figure out."
With that, he turned and left, leaving me standing alone in the crowd. My emotions were a mixture of anger and confusion due to his comments.
As the night wore on, the bar reached its peak, and the werewolves were reveling in song and dance. Exhausted from work, I went to the restroom to splash water on my face.
And there, I saw Armand again. He walked towards me with a sly expression.
Before I could avoid him, he suddenly grabbed my hand and led me into the storage room in the corner of the restroom. Nobody else would enter this space. My heart raced, unsure of what he intended.
"You seem to be in need of money," his voice had changed, deep and filled with emotion.
I furrowed my brows, feeling a chill down my spine. I tried to break free from his grasp, but he refused to let go, backing me into a corner.
"Do you know I can give you a lot of money if you're willing?" He said as his hand moved slowly up my thigh.
Trembling involuntarily, I looked up to meet his gaze. "Do you really think money can buy anything?"
He laughed mockingly, "Do you think you're any different from others? You've been acting all along. You're just an unsatisfied little girl."
His words filled me with anger and shame. Trying to stay calm, I said, "You're wrong, I'm not what you think."
He stared at me, his grip tightening, his eyes filled with scorn and mockery. "What we see is only each other's surface. Do you think you understand me?"
His words struck a deep chord in me. In that moment, I felt trapped in an inescapable shadow, struggling helplessly in the darkness.