Su Jin wrapped her arms tightly around herself, trembling uncontrollably. She bit her lip so hard it almost bled, afraid she might lose her nerve and bolt from the room.
In the gilded mirror, a stranger seemed to stare back at her. Her delicate features—a face framed by glossy black hair, lips a soft rose-petal pink, and almond-shaped eyes now clouded with fear. But her reflection betrayed her vulnerability further; she wore nothing more than a sheer gown, its flimsy fabric leaving little to the imagination and exposing her creamy, porcelain-like skin.
Around her, other women chattered excitedly. They speculated about who might be chosen, how much money they could make tonight. But Su Jin felt no such thrill. Shame gnawed at her, sinking its teeth deep into her chest, threatening to choke the air from her lungs.
Her phone buzzed, shattering her thoughts. It was a message from her father: "Jin, is the money ready?"
Her fingers trembled as she typed back a reply: "It's coming. Fifty thousand will be in your account soon." Then, with a shaking breath, she turned off the phone. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Crying solved nothing.
The door swung open, and the manager stepped in. His slick smile didn't reach his calculating eyes. "Ladies, ready?" he asked, surveying the group of thirty women. "Showtime. You'll be paraded before the clients now. Remember, just stepping onto that stage earns you fifty thousand dollars. If someone chooses you, well, let's just say your luck really starts there." His voice turned sharper. "Don't waste this chance. For women like you, it's the easiest way to make money."
The room erupted in murmurs of agreement, but Su Jin said nothing. She kept her head low, her face pale. Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. Fifty thousand dollars. She needed it. Desperately. This nightmare—this humiliation—was her only way out.
Su Jin hadn't always been desperate. Once, she had a life many envied: a loving family, financial security, and dreams of a bright future. But all of that was stolen when her father succumbed to gambling. Debts piled high. Loan sharks circled like vultures, threatening to claim her father's life if he couldn't pay.
Her descent from grace was swift and brutal. Gone were the days of carefree smiles. She took on endless jobs, barely earning enough to scrape by. When her father's creditors demanded fifty thousand dollars within three days, Su Jin was cornered. There was no one left to turn to.
That's when Mina appeared—a former classmate with a reputation for mischief. Mina's lips curled into a mocking smile as she said, "Well, look who's fallen from grace. Miss Perfect Su Jin, desperate for money. I know a way you can earn it fast. But it's not for the faint of heart."
Su Jin's stomach churned as she met Mina's gaze. She didn't trust the other woman, but desperation forced her to listen.
"What is it?" Su Jin's voice wavered. She already knew this wouldn't end well.
Mina's smirk widened. "Oh, it's simple. You've got a body and a pretty face. Use them. There's a club downtown where girls like you can make fifty thousand in one night. Just walk the stage. If someone likes you, they'll pay even more."
Su Jin recoiled, feeling as though Mina had slapped her. But Mina's words planted a poisonous seed.
"Face it, Jin," Mina sneered, "You're out of options. Unless you think your precious pride is worth more than your father's life?"
Now, here she was, standing among strangers in a room that smelled of expensive perfume and despair. She clutched the thin card Mina had given her and hoped—prayed—that she wouldn't be chosen. If she could just get the appearance fee, she'd disappear forever.
The manager led them into a grand ballroom. Soft jazz played in the background. VIP clients lounged in velvet chairs, their sharp suits and diamond watches a stark contrast to the women's fragile gowns. Each client could select up to three women for the evening. Su Jin hoped she'd be overlooked.
The announcement began. "Number one, number seven, and number fourteen have been chosen by VIP Client Two." The voice droned on, numbers blurring together. Su Jin's heart raced as she stood at the far end, her number, thirty, still uncalled.
Then she felt it. A gaze so intense it burned into her skin. Her breath hitched. She didn't dare look up, but she sensed it—a predatory presence unlike any other.
The announcer's voice cut through her thoughts: "Finally, VIP Client Eight selects... number thirty."
The ground beneath Su Jin seemed to vanish. Her legs gave way, and she crumpled to the floor. She was barely aware of the attendants rushing to help her when a shadow loomed over her.
A tailored suit. Polished leather shoes. Strong hands lifted her effortlessly, cradling her like something precious.
The murmurs in the ballroom ceased as a low, commanding voice declared, "She's mine."
Her head spun, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Su Jin's face was buried against his chest, her body stiff as stone. Around her, the crowd buzzed in shock and whispers.
"Why is Mr. Luo Xian here?" one of them hissed. "He never participates in these events."
Su Jin didn't need to lift her head to know she'd just stepped into something far more dangerous than she'd imagined. In Luo Xian's arms, she felt as though she'd been claimed by a storm—one that would leave her life forever changed.