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୨⎯ jia ⎯୧

the frontman had just invited me to a cocktail - or rather demanded it from me.

i exhale, tilting my head at him. "fine. but i need to change first."

he doesn't argue, just gives a slow nod, as if he expected that. "i'll be waiting."

i walk to my room and as soon as the door shuts behind me, i lean against it for a second, running a hand through my hair. what the hell am i doing?

i should wear something simple, something neutral. but instead, my eyes drift toward my suitcase where a dress sits.

i don't even know why i brought it. just in case. and apparently, this is the case.

i put it on, smoothing my hands over the dark blue material, adjusting my golden tiger mask before taking one last look in the mirror.

if we're playing a game, i might as well play it well.

without another second of hesitation, i step out of the room.

when i arrive at the bar, he's already there, sitting with his back straight, one hand resting on the counter while the other holds a glass of something dark - whiskey. of course.

how is he even drinking with a mask on? but then i see him lifting it up just so he could drink.

he doesn't turn right away, but i know he sees me. i take my seat next to him, my mask concealing any hint of hesitation.

his eyes trail over me - slow, deliberate. even through the mask, i feel it.

he takes his time, scanning from the way the dress hugs my waist down to the way i cross my legs.

i pretend not to notice, resting my elbow on the bar and meeting his gaze.

"are you going to keep staring," i murmur, tilting my head slightly, "or are we actually going to drink?"

his lips curve behind the mask, just slightly.

"both," he answers.

i glance at the bartender - a masked guard, silent as ever - and order a cherry mojito. he nods, preparing the drink before sliding the glass in front of me.

"so," i say, tilting my head slightly, "what kind of offer are you proposing?"

he doesn't answer right away. instead, he leans back slightly, fingers tapping against the side of his glass.

"how did you know?" he asks.

i raise an eyebrow. "know what?"

"that the group yesterday would win," he clarifies, his voice smooth. "everyone thought you were making a mistake. betting on a team with a pregnant woman. but you didn't hesitate."

i take another sip of my drink, thinking about his words.

"instinct," i say simply.

his head tilts slightly, unconvinced. "instinct?"

"yes." i set my glass down, meeting his gaze through my mask. "it's not just about strength. it's about intelligence, how people react under pressure. i saw that group, and i knew they weren't just playing. they were thinking. and that's why they won."

he hums, as if considering my answer, then takes a slow sip of his drink.

i watch him carefully, waiting to see if he'll answer my original question. but something tells me he won't. not yet.

"you know," he says, his voice lower, slower this time, "it's funny."

i raise an eyebrow.

he leans in just slightly, just enough for the space between us to feel smaller. "no one has ever challenged me the way you do."