Neon lights on. Inside a steak house.
"Manager, what does this mean?" Jessica glances at the latest entertainment news featuring rumors of her nighttime encounter with Jude Kris, a rising movie star, her brows arching slightly.
"This is the company's decision; I personally have no say in the matter," the manager expresses a slight apology over the phone.
Given Jessica's current status and popularity, she indeed deserves such treatment.
"I thought I made my stance on rumors clear to you before, didn't I?" Jessica's tone is a bit tough, though she is smiling, it is a thinly veiled threat laced with anger.
"Don't worry, Jess. The company is just leveraging your fame to test public reaction. This scandal is the start and also the end," the manager assures her.
Pretty Generation is still in the initial stages, needing a sensational member to be the pillar of popularity.
For now, although Jessica's rise is unexpected, S Entertainment isn't planning on destroying the successful formula they had built.
"In any case, if you don't want the group to end up with only eight members, you'd better not push too far." Jessica leaves a threatening message and hangs up the phone.
The moment she ends the call, several more calls come in.
Jessica hesitates for a moment and chooses one to answer.
A calm voice comes through as soon as she answers. "I heard about the situation."
"This is how you protect the group?" Jessica's tone is mocking, "I'm curious, as the leader, were you informed about this rumor before it broke?"
"Trust me, this isn't the outcome I wanted."
"If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be talking to you so calmly right now." Jessica takes a deep breath, calming herself. "My manager just said this scandal is only a probing start; there will probably be more outrageous plans to follow. You should be prepared."
"One more month." Charlotte slowly speaks, "After one more month, if things are still the same, I'll give up on what I'm currently thinking."
"One month, what does that mean?" Jessica presses, "Since the beginning of the year, you've been talking about some time frame, what is it exactly?"
The other end falls silent.
Jessica is nearly frantic, "Every time I ask you this question, you answer with silence. How long will you remain silent?"
"One month." Charlotte responds calmly, "Just give me one more month, then everything should be clear."
Under the dim light of the room, the two sit across from each other at a round table, a cozy warmth in the cramped space.
Two glasses of wine down.
A thin mist fills Victoria's beautiful eyes as the effects of the alcohol become apparent.
"Vic, how come you're getting tipsy after just two glasses?" Sebastian chuckles, "Didn't you say you could hold your liquor?"
"Mr. President, I really can drink quite a bit," Victoria protests discontentedly, propping her cheek on her hand as she rests her elbow on the table, her eyes looking drowsy.
"The alcohol's all over your face, and you say you're fine," Sebastian teases.
However, he is feeling a bit dizzy himself.
It is strange. He knows his own quota, yet after only two drinks, he feels the room spinning.
Even weirder is the fact that his vision is starting to blur, and looking at Victoria's beautiful face across from him, a heat seems to rise within him.
He soon realizes something is off, smacks his face in an attempt to sober up, but as he is about to get up and wash his face, Victoria pulls him back down.
"Sebastian!"
"What is it?"
"Why do you dislike me so much?"
"When have I ever disliked you?"
"From that 'Turn your back to the mass' moment, to the misunderstandings that followed, to this morning when you purposely put shoes on that model in front of me..." Victoria's speech stumbles, her tone mixed with drunkenness and dissatisfaction.
"That's not true, you might be misunderstanding," Sebastian tries to explain with a smile, his mind still holding onto a sliver of rationality, but it is like a small boat in the sea, on the verge of being overwhelmed by the waves.
"Misunderstanding?" Victoria snorts, her voice rising, "Do you think you're smarter and like to treat everyone else like a fool?"
She tries to stand up but stumbles, catching herself on the table with her hands, anger brewing in her eyes, "Such obvious distancing, only a fool wouldn't see it, right?"
The more she speaks, the angrier she gets. Victoria attempts to move but stumbles again, nearly falling.
Sebastian stands up to support her but ends up being grabbed by the collar.
"Am I that bad?"
"What?"
"I mean, am I not attractive to you at all, in terms of looks, personality, body?"
Victoria's expression is aggrieved, and she speaks with bitterness, "Am I so terrible that you want to avoid me at all costs?"
Her doe-like eyes lock onto Sebastian's face, her teeth grinding as if ready to bite the moment she gets an unsatisfactory answer.
But Sebastian can't return her gaze; his eyes are captivated by Victoria's pink neck, so close to him.
Their bodies are too close. He inhales her scent, clearly seeing the pores on her skin. The autumn heat is stifling.
In a daze, every inch of Victoria's tender skin seems to exude a lethal allure.
Meanwhile, Victoria is no better off, "Sebastian, talk please, tell me why, give me an answer!"
Her breathing grows heavy, but her heart's turmoil temporarily suppresses everything else.
"I've been hurt before!" Perhaps due to the alcohol, Sebastian's reason finally gives way. He looks up, revealing a restrained smile. "Because I've been seriously hurt in the past, I've become cautious. Are you satisfied with that answer?"
"Was it because of a girl?"
"Because of a girl."
"She must have been very beautiful."
"Extremely beautiful."
"How do I look like compare to her?"
Sebastian falls silent; he can't answer because the words just wouldn't come out.
Victoria's fair arms are firmly wrapped around Sebastian's neck.
As the last bit of her brooding evaporates, any remnants of rational thought crumble.
----------------
In Eastown District.
Dressed in pajamas, George Vanderbilt calls out towards the bathroom, "Honey, have you seen the red wine I put in the fridge?"
"What's wrong?" Caroline Vanderbilt, soaking in the bathtub, responds with curiosity.
"The red wine is missing." George sits down beside the bathroom.
"Did you forget to put it there?"
"I don't think so?" George is somewhat hesitant, "I always put the red wine in the fridge around mid-month..."
"And where's the wine now?"
As George struggles to find an answer, Caroline can't help but roll her eyes. With just the two of them in the house, and if she hadn't taken it, could it be anything but forgetfulness?
"Could I really have forgotten?" George deeply doubts himself.
"Forget it then, it's not like we need it to rely on." Caroline gives him a look.
"Heh, heh." George chuckles awkwardly, without further words.
The wine, mixed with ginger juice under the influence of alcohol, could enhance passion, ensuring a harmonious couple activities while also being healthy. It was a tradition they had maintained since getting married.