Charlie slumped onto the hotel bed with an exhausted sigh. Twelve hours in the air was no joke—she felt simultaneously jittery and dead tired. The Tokyo skyline outside the hotel window was just coming to life, lights flickering on one by one as dusk settled.

  Beside her, Alex calmly began unpacking his suitcase and a package he'd collected from reception. Charlie's gaze settled on him absentmindedly, unsurprised when she saw a gun among the items he retrieved.

  She watched quietly as he sat down on the plush carpet, suit jacket tossed casually onto the bed. His broad shoulders moved subtly under his white shirt as he carefully assembled the weapon, fingers confident and practiced. Head bent slightly in concentration, he seemed completely at ease. As annoying as Alex could be, Charlie reluctantly admitted to herself that at least he appeared serious about protecting her. That provided some level of comfort.

  Her eyes drifted toward the jacket he'd discarded. She frowned slightly, considering something. "Are you going to dress like that this whole trip?"

  Without looking up from the gun, Alex responded lightly, "Why do you ask?"

  Charlie furrowed her brow, picturing him walking the vibrant grounds of the NeonStrike competition dressed like some corporate agent. "They'll think you work for NeonStrike."

  Alex finally glanced up at her, eyes twinkling mischievously. "I'll wear whatever you want me to wear, Miss Mak."

  Heat rushed to Charlie's cheeks, her pulse quickening slightly. "Stop that!"

  Alex laughed softly, his eyes warm with amusement. "I'm only joking. Your dad would dismember me—literally."

  "And you better remember that!" Charlie snapped, turning away quickly to hide the deepening blush. Her heart thumped oddly, irritation mixing with something else she didn't quite understand. Most of the men assigned to her rarely spoke beyond professional necessity, yet Alex seemed to take genuine pleasure in testing her limits, completely disregarding the lines separating them.

  "Although," Alex continued thoughtfully, his tone playful, "that's only if you tell." He fixed her with a dark, teasing smirk. "Maybe you won't tell?"

  Without thinking, Charlie grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. "I swear to God, Alex, more of that and I really will tell my dad and he'll skin you alive."

  Alex laughed openly, easily catching the pillow. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

  He paused for a moment, seemingly remembering something, and reached into his suitcase. "Oh, almost forgot." He pulled out several neatly packaged boxes. "These are the headphones from your sponsors," he explained, holding them out toward her.

  Charlie's blush returned with a vengeance, memories of his revelation as her fan club president—"Almond Lover"—resurfacing uncomfortably. She'd entrusted Almond Lover with her sponsor deals, preferring not to deal with those minor details herself. She reached out awkwardly, feeling absurdly self-conscious.

  "Oh, uh, thanks," she muttered, avoiding his amused gaze.

  Alex grinned knowingly but said nothing else, turning his attention back to organizing his belongings.

  Eager to escape, Charlie rolled off the bed abruptly. "I'm going to shower and sleep," she announced briskly, grabbing some clothes from her suitcase.

  "Okay, Miss Mak," Alex responded easily, not bothering to look up this time. "Enjoy."

  Charlie hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her and locking it. She pressed her back against the cool wood, her hand rising instinctively to her chest, where her heart thudded wildly beneath her palm.

  Why was her pulse racing like this? It was just Alex, for god's sake—the irritating, overly-confident, almond-obsessed security guy her dad had saddled her with. So why, every time he flashed her that mischievous smile, did she feel heat creeping up her neck?

  She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling slowly. It was probably just jet lag.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  Charlie emerged from the bathroom, drying the ends of her hair, and paused in the doorway when she saw Alex seated at the small desk, thumbing through his phone. She still couldn't quite reconcile it—the broad-shouldered, sharply dressed man casually scrolling in front of her was the same person she'd trusted with so many intimate details of her life. Almond Lover. She felt her pulse skip, then cursed herself for being ridiculous.

  "Perfect timing," Alex said without looking up, tapping out a message before finally glancing her way, eyes bright with quiet amusement. "I was thinking, between matches tomorrow we could set up a casual meet-and-greet for you. Nothing formal, just something low-key for your fans."

  Charlie raised an eyebrow, suspicion prickling through her discomfort. "Meet-and-greet? You mean...with actual fans?"

  He smirked, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. "I hear it's customary."

  She huffed, tossing the damp towel over the back of a chair and crossing her arms defensively. "Why? I'm just here for the competition."

  Alex leaned back comfortably, fingers loosely interlaced, posture effortlessly confident in a way that irritated—and intrigued—Charlie at the same time. "That's exactly why we should do it. You finally showing up in person is huge. As your club president, believe me when I say we should capitalize on this."

  Charlie chewed at her bottom lip, her unease deepening as she imagined standing exposed in front of a crowd of eager strangers. It wasn't just anxiety—she was genuinely worried about safety. "Wouldn't that be risky, though? Just standing around in the open?"

  His expression softened, losing its playful edge. "I'll be right there," Alex said gently, voice steady with a quiet assurance that set something loose in her chest. "You don't have to worry."

  Her cheeks warmed involuntarily at his tone, irritation bubbling at the ease with which he seemed able to unsettle her. "Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

  Alex chuckled softly. "Trust me, I wouldn't let anything happen to my favorite streamer. Especially when the fan club is only 2,671 off from hitting 500,000 members!"

  She groaned loudly, embarrassment surging as she buried her face momentarily in her hands. "Could you not bring that up?"

  "Sorry, Miss Mak," he said, though he didn't sound particularly sorry at all.

  Charlie shook her head, fighting the small smile threatening to betray her annoyance. "Fine," she muttered. "But if it goes south, it's entirely your fault."

  He shrugged lightly, eyes glittering with quiet humor. "Understood."

  Charlie turned away quickly, fussing over her suitcase to hide the warm flush in her face. She couldn't believe she was seriously agreeing to this.

  Worse yet, she was starting to believe his quiet assurance—this fan-turned-bodyguard, who somehow knew just how to fluster her at every turn.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  The VR arena buzzed with electric anticipation. Massive screens displayed a futuristic battleground—abandoned warehouses, stacked shipping containers, flickering neon signs, and dense urban rubble sprawled across a grimy, war-torn cityscape. Pulsating lights bathed the sleek gaming pods lined up on stage. Cameras swiveled in every direction, capturing each player's face, every nervous gesture, broadcasting them to millions streaming live online.

  Charlie stood beside Ollie, body tight with adrenaline, fingers flexing instinctively. Ollie squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, eyes warm. "We got this, Charles," he whispered, winking. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but she forced a confident smirk back. A brief glance toward Alex, standing to the side, dressed casually yet poised, expression darkly intense. When their eyes locked, his gaze softened slightly, offering a silent nod that calmed her racing pulse.

  "Here we go!" A commentator's voice boomed across the arena. "Mixed Nuts against Team Savage, in NeonStrike's first-ever VR promo battle!"

  "Gonna be an interesting one." Another commentator adds. "Teams battle it out by trying to wipe out the opponent Team and as many NPC enemies they can before their last team member goes down!"

  Charlie adjusted the VR gloves, feeling her heart hammer as the world around her transformed. Suddenly, she was no longer Charlie Mak but Scorched Almond, dropped into a vibrant yet chaotic battleground. Around her, teammates materialized—Emi's sleek figure, Ollie's athletic build, Jazz's towering form, Niko's wiry frame—all geared for battle.

  "Teams ready! Three! Two! One! Engage!"

  The alarm kicking off the game sounded loudly.

  She surged forward, instantly in combat mode. Her training wasn't virtual—her father had taught her reflexes in the real world, the hard way. Ducking behind a shipping container, gun raised, eyes scanning rapidly. Movement to her left. Pivot. Shoot. Headshot.

  "Jesus Christ!" an opposing player yelped as his avatar crumpled.

  "Almond gets first blood!" The commentator shouted gleefully. "That's our girl! Savage team better step up!"

  Charlie grinned ferociously. Movement on her right, two shadows darting between rubble piles. She sprinted, crouched low, firing shots methodically—one dropped instantly, the other tried to pivot. Too slow. She slammed her virtual knee into his chest, gun under his chin. For a second, she saw real-life terror flicker in the player's eyes through his avatar.

  "Sorry," she whispered darkly, pulling the trigger.

  Another down.

  The online comments exploded:

  [Holy shit, did she just execute him?]

  [That was brutal. Almond's terrifying IRL.]

  [Marry me, Scorched!]

  Behind her, Ollie dispatched another opponent, then paused, watching her. She turned, flashing him a wicked smile. "Keep up, pretty boy!"

  He laughed, shaking his head, dashing after her.

  They pushed deeper into enemy territory, each kill feeding her adrenaline. Short, sharp pivots. Quick shots. Players scrambled, panicked, firing wildly—easy prey. Emi shouted jubilantly as Charlie cleared the way, a furious whirlwind.

  A player stepped in front of her—Charlie elbowed them aside with casual precision, spinning to deliver a clean headshot.

  "Ohhhh my god! Did she just elbow-drop that guy? Can we even do that?" Commentators laughed in disbelief. "Scorched Almond giving no fucks today, people!"

  "This isn't even fair!" Another commentator roared. "Savage can't keep up! She's taking them apart!"

  Charlie ducked incoming fire, twisting sharply, her instincts honed from martial arts training since childhood. Feet steady, shots precise, enemies dropped around her like targets on a range.

  "Goddamn cheat!" an opposing player snarled over the comms, voice trembling with frustration.

  "Skill, not cheats," she retorted sharply, punctuating each word with rapid shots. More dropped. Her teammates kept pace behind her, riding the momentum she created.

  Her eyes flickered rapidly, catching shadows, anticipating movement before it happened. A quick sidestep. A sharp elbow jab. The virtual haptic feedback buzzed in her gloves. She turned, dropping another opponent with a clean headshot.

  "Ten kills streak! Scorched Almond is unstoppable!" The commentator sounded awestruck.

  Each enemy eliminated boosted her confidence. Every dodge, every kill solidified her dominance. Her opponents' shock was evident, their movements hesitant, cautious.

  In the corner of her eye, Ollie matched her movements, efficient and skilled but lacking the ruthless efficiency Charlie instinctively embodied.

  "You good, Ollie?" she teased, breathing heavily.

  "Just admiring the view," he shot back, amused.

  "Admire later," she grinned fiercely, "fight now."

  Final wave approaching. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Darting forward, she slid beneath incoming shots, rolling to her feet with deadly precision. Her senses sang, sharp and focused. Each move was short, deliberate, devastating.

  "This isn't gaming, this is slaughter!" the commentator yelled.

  A figure moved swiftly to her right; she reacted instantly, sidestepping and firing in one fluid motion. Opponent eliminated.

  "Oh, come on!" a rival player's frustrated voice echoed through the game chat.

  She vaulted debris, firing mid-air, opponents flinching visibly, overwhelmed. Last two enemies—a flash of fear in their movements. She closed in mercilessly, a predator cornering prey.

  "Wait—" one voice quavered.

  "Game over," she said, shots precise, final.

  The battleground cleared. Victory announced loudly overhead:

  "Winners: Mixed Nuts!" the commentator's voice rang jubilantly. "Scorched Almond dominating with a record kill count! This is history, folks! NeonStrike has a queen!"

  Charlie exhaled sharply, removing her visor, heart pounding furiously. Her eyes met Alex's from across the arena. His gaze was intense, admiration clearly etched across his features. She blushed fiercely but raised a triumphant fist.

  Behind her, the audience erupted into deafening cheers.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  Eddie Leung had fallen in love.

  He stared across the crowded arena, the deafening roar of applause fading into the background as his eyes fixed solely on Charlie. She stood illuminated by the flashing neon lights, her cheeks flushed from exertion, dark eyes bright with the fierce satisfaction of victory. Her chest heaved softly with quick breaths, lips parted as she absorbed the crowd's wild adoration.

  In that single instant, Eddie knew he'd crossed the line.

  It wasn't just attraction. He'd been attracted from the first time he saw her swear profusely at the laptop in that dimmed function room. No, this was something deeper, sharper—dangerous, even. Eddie had never thought he was capable of this kind of feeling; it made his heart pound in his ears. But there she was, standing center stage, so fiercely alive, and Eddie could barely breathe.

  Around him, spectators screamed her name—"Scorched Almond!" echoing in waves across the massive arena, broadcasted on screens towering like skyscrapers. Even the other competitors stared, dazed and half-awestruck, half-terrified, while commentators gushed about her lethal precision and dominance.

  He smirked slightly. None of these fans, commentators, or rivals knew just how real that lethality was. They couldn't know she wasn't just some prodigy gamer, some virtual goddess born of pixels and reflexes—no, she was Jonathan Mak's daughter, born and raised on blood money. Deadly wasn't just a game for her; it was her birthright. And watching her unleash that instinct in full public view, with no fear or hesitation, Eddie felt a deep surge of pride.

  But beneath the thrill, a faint, unsettling thought stirred within him. Charlie was now more visible than ever. Her popularity—already explosive online—was about to skyrocket after today's match. With fame came vulnerability, attention that could be leveraged against her. Eddie's chest tightened.

  He shook it off firmly. A problem he would deal with if it came to be.

  As the crowd quieted slightly and players started leaving the stage, Eddie moved swiftly through the throng, cutting a decisive path toward her. He paused for a moment, watching as her teammates—especially Ollie—congratulated her, showering her with praise. A wave of possessiveness surged through him, his jaw tightening reflexively. Eddie reminded himself sharply that Charlie was still oblivious to who he truly was. To her, he was just Alex Lau, her overly enthusiastic fan club president turned annoyingly persistent bodyguard.

  But that was fine—for now. It meant he could stay close, watching, learning every small detail she didn't even realize she revealed.

  "Hey," he called out, stepping closer to the group. Charlie turned instantly, dark eyes finding his.

  "Did you see that?" she demanded excitedly, a triumphant smile splitting her features. "I kicked their asses."

  He couldn't help but smile in return, a real, genuine smile that he didn't bother to hide. "Yeah, you did. I'm pretty sure they're questioning all their life decisions now."

  Charlie laughed, bright and genuine, the sound making his heart skip. Fuck. How was it possible for a simple laugh to feel like a goddamn punch?

  Ollie stepped forward, placing a familiar hand on her shoulder. "Charlie was amazing out there—did you see those moves, Alex? It was like watching a pro fighter."

  Eddie swallowed a flash of irritation at Ollie's hand still lingering on Charlie's shoulder, masking it with a relaxed smile. "Yeah, I saw. She was incredible. Natural born killer."

  Charlie blushed fiercely, ducking her head slightly, the shy gesture completely at odds with the lethal persona she'd worn only moments earlier. Eddie's gaze softened.

  Ollie smiled warmly at her. "You okay, Charles? You look flushed."

  "Just adrenaline," Charlie replied quickly, eyes flicking briefly back to Eddie before darting away again.

  "Good," Ollie said, gently squeezing her shoulder once more before stepping back. "Still got a few more matches before dinner yeh?"

  Eddie forced his fists to relax at his sides, shoving down the possessive impulse to rip Ollie's hand away from Charlie. Instead, he turned smoothly toward the group, his eyes returning immediately to Charlie.

  "Yeah, dinner," Eddie echoed casually, a slight smirk playing at his lips. "I heard we're doing yakiniku tonight."

  Emi bounced eagerly on her toes. "Yes! I'm starving!"

  "You literally ate just before the match," Niko said flatly.

  "And now I've burned it all off, right Jazz?" Emi grinned.

  The tall young man paused, looking at Niko, and then Emi before shrugging non committedly.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  As they all began making their way toward the arena exit, Eddie deliberately fell into step beside Charlie, close enough that their shoulders brushed lightly. She glanced up at him, startled, but didn't pull away. The small victory warmed him.

  "You were really something out there," Eddie murmured, voice low enough for only her to hear. "Almost scary."

  Charlie shot him a look, skeptical but clearly pleased. "Coming from you, Almond Lover, that's saying something."

  He chuckled softly. Eddie could see her pulse fluttering rapidly at her throat; he wanted nothing more than to trace it with his fingertips.

  But he would wait. One day soon, she'd understand exactly who he was—and exactly how long he'd been waiting.

  Until then, Eddie decided he would keep watching, keep protecting, and keep falling deeper.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  Charlie felt a rush of anxiety as she stood near the entrance of the NeonStrike promotional booth. The area had been carefully set up, adorned with banners featuring her game avatar, "Scorched Almond," guns blazing and expression fierce. Alex stood nearby, grinning cheerfully, proudly sporting a bright "Fan Club President - Almond Lover" badge pinned to his shirt.

  "Really?" Charlie asked dryly, pointing at the badge.

  Alex shrugged unapologetically, eyes twinkling with mischief. "What? Just representing."

  She rolled her eyes, trying to hide her smile. As the event organizers opened the doors, a line of eager fans streamed into the area, excitement palpable. Charlie took a deep breath, pasting a bright smile onto her face.

  "Hi!" she greeted the first fan warmly, quickly falling into a rhythm of signing autographs, posing for selfies, and exchanging quick words of appreciation. Most fans were young, respectful, and excited, their enthusiasm infectious.

  Alex handled crowd control and assisted in moving things smoothly along, easily chatting with fans, his charisma evident. Occasionally, Charlie caught him watching her, his expression fond, and she'd quickly turn away, cheeks flushed.

  The event was going smoothly until a one man approached, his eyes slightly glazed, face red and sweaty.

  "Been your fan since day one," he breathed heavily, gripping her hand a little too tightly.

  Charlie smiled awkwardly, subtly trying to pull her hand back. "Thanks, I appreciate that."

  "You're perfect," the man continued, leaning in close enough for Charlie to smell stale breath. Her skin crawled.

  "Uh, thank you," she replied stiffly, heart pounding in discomfort.

  "Can we get a photo?" he asked eagerly.

  "Sure," she responded weakly, positioning herself beside him. As he wrapped an arm around her, Charlie froze, feeling his hand slide slowly, deliberately down her spine.

  Before she could react, Alex appeared, gripping the man's wrist with swift, deadly precision. His voice was a low, dangerous growl, quiet enough that only the three of them could hear.

  "Touch her like that again, and I'll break every bone in your hand. Then I'll start on the rest of you."

  The man's face paled instantly. Alex released him, giving a deceptively pleasant smile. "Have a great day."

  The man stumbled away hurriedly, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to leave.

  Charlie stared at Alex, heart hammering, face flushed in surprise. "Thanks," she whispered softly.

  He turned to face her, fury still evident, eyes dark and protective. But as his gaze met hers, his expression softened.

  "You okay?" he asked quietly, concern evident.

  Charlie nodded, feeling oddly breathless. "Yeah."

  "Good." Alex visibly relaxed, warmth returning to his features. "Then let's finish this. You've got more fans waiting."

  Charlie smiled gratefully, heart fluttering unexpectedly at the genuine care she saw in his eyes. The rest of the fan meet continued without incident, Alex never straying far from her side, his presence a comforting reassurance.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  Charlie twisted sharply, gun raised, catching the slightest flicker of movement. Her eyes narrowed, breath steady.

  "On your left, Ollie," she called sharply.

  "Got it," Ollie responded instantly, voice smooth, calm under pressure.

  They moved as one—coordinated, precise. Two opponents remained. Charlie vaulted over a low wall, ducked a barrage of shots, and fired rapidly. She felt rather than saw Ollie mirroring her movements beside her, covering her blind spots. Her opponent fell with a final groan.

  "Nice shot," Ollie murmured appreciatively.

  "One more," Charlie whispered, body taut with adrenaline.

  Ollie moved first, drawing fire deliberately, allowing Charlie a split-second window. She pivoted sharply, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. The opponent crumpled instantly.

  "Match over! Winners: Mixed Nuts!" The commentator roared, excitement electric. The crowd exploded into wild cheers, a thunderous celebration enveloping the arena.

  Charlie ripped off her visor, breathing heavily. She was startled when Ollie suddenly wrapped her in a jubilant hug.

  "We did it, Charles!" he exclaimed, holding her close, lingering a moment longer than necessary, eyes meeting hers.

  Her heart jumped. She laughed awkwardly, flushing crimson as Ollie pulled back slightly, eyes warm.

  "Couldn't have done it without you," he said gently.

  Charlie blinked, startled by the softness of his tone. "O-oh, well, team effort, right?"

  "Yeah," Ollie said quietly, gaze steady. "But mostly you."

  Charlie blushed deeper, mouth opening but nothing came out. Her pulse raced and she felt suddenly, oddly shy.

  A smooth voice broke the charged silence, cheerful but slightly tense. "Sorry to interrupt."

  Alex stood nearby, smiling politely, but Charlie didn't miss intensity of his gaze—dark, tinged with an emotion she couldn't quite place. She quickly stepped back from Ollie, flustered.

  "Hey, Alex," she managed, voice sounding embarrassingly breathless even to her own ears.

  "NeonStrike representatives want to speak with you," Alex explained casually, though his eyes lingered pointedly on Ollie for a moment.

  Ollie nodded, smiling easily despite the slight tension. "Sure, I'll head back to the hotel with the he others first. Catch you at dinner, Charles."

  "Yeah, okay," she murmured, heart still fluttering. She watched him go, feeling Alex's sharp gaze on her.

  The NeonStrike reps approached eagerly, their faces alight with excitement.

  "Charlie, your performance today was extraordinary!" the lead representative gushed, eyes sparkling enthusiastically. "We've never seen anyone move like that before."

  Charlie smiled hesitantly, embarrassment mixing with pride. "Oh, uh, thank you."

  "We'd love for you to officially partner with NeonStrike," another rep cut in enthusiastically. "It would be a comprehensive sponsorship—events, promotions, livestream collaborations, global tours—the works. You'd be the face of our new VR platform."

  Charlie felt her stomach flip. Her breath caught, excitement surging through her veins—her dream, finally materialized. This was the real dream.

  But reality hit hard. Her father's world didn't allow dreams like this to be real. What would NeonStrike really think once they found out she was the daughter of an actual crime underworld boss? What sponsors would willingly work with her then?

  Her smile faltered, and the representatives paused, noticing her sudden shift.

  "I'll... I'll have to think about it," Charlie said, forcing cheerfulness back into her voice. But her eyes dropped, disappointment sinking deep.

  Alex watched her closely. Reading her expression, he stepped forward smoothly, interjecting with a disarming smile. "You can reach out to me for any details. I'll coordinate the follow-up discussions with Miss Mak."

  The reps nodded, pleased, handing over contact cards, expressing their hope she'd accept.

  Alex placed a gentle hand on Charlie's shoulder, guiding her away from the bustling arena, voice softening. "Come on. Let's head back so you can shower and get ready for dinner."

  Charlie nodded mutely, her chest heavy. Dreams like these were never truly meant for her, no matter how much she yearned for them. She knew her duty. She had no right to wish for anything more.

  They walked silently through the corridors, excitement dimmed by the weight of reality.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  At dinner, the Yakiniku restaurant buzzed energetically, the entire three-story building booked exclusively for the NeonStrike competitors and their teams. Rows of long wooden tables stretched across the spacious room, each filled with teams mingling cheerfully. Glasses clinked, laughter echoed, and the mouthwatering scent of grilling meat filled the air.

  Charlie's team, Mixed Nuts, occupied a central table, comfortably settling in amongst friendly rivals and enthusiastic chatter. Charlie found herself wedged comfortably yet slightly tensely between Ollie and Alex. Both men seemed entirely too aware of each other's presence, casting hard glances at each other.

  "Hey Ollie!" a girl from another team leaned over the table, batting long lashes. "Great match today. You were amazing out there."

  Ollie flashed her a friendly smile but shifted closer to Charlie, eyes twinkling warmly at his teammate. "Thanks, Tina. But Charles is the real MVP here—did you see her moves today?"

  Charlie felt a blush rising, ducking her head slightly. "Shut up, Ollie," she murmured, nudging him with her elbow.

  Across the table, Emi observed the exchange, grinning mischievously. "Aww, isn't Ollie just the sweetest?"

  Niko snorted, piling meat onto their shared grill. "Nauseatingly sweet. I think I'm getting diabetes just listening."

  Jazz gave a quiet, awkward chuckle, adding softly, "I don't think Charlie minds much."

  Charlie shot her teammates a glare, but they just grinned at her.

  Alex, seated to her other side, watched with carefully controlled features, his expression a mask of pleasant neutrality, though Charlie felt a distinct tension radiating from him. He casually placed slices of wagyu onto their shared grill, methodically arranging them with precision.

  Ollie, noticing this, raised an amused brow and subtly began arranging his own slices, carefully marinating them in sauce before placing them onto the sizzling metal.

  "Oh no," Emi murmured knowingly. "Here we go."

  "Ah," Niko smirked, "it's a meat-off."

  Jazz glanced cautiously between the two men, sensing the brewing rivalry. Without a word, he quietly transferred his own slices of beef to Emi and Niko's grill.

  Emi laughed softly. "Sorry, Charlie, you're on your own. Good luck."

  "Cowards. Traitors," Charlie hissed quietly, glaring at them as they giggled and turned their attention safely away.

  Ollie's chopsticks flipped the meat confidently. "You should try this first, Charlie," he offered cheerfully, eyes locked playfully onto hers. "Tastes better marinated."

  Alex didn't miss a beat. "That'll just overpower the meat, it's better just to have it lightly seasoned," he added calmly, eyes darkening subtly as they met Ollie's.

  Charlie felt trapped. "C-Can't I just have both?"

  Both men answered simultaneously, firmly: "No."

  She groaned inwardly, sensing the playful challenge shifting into something else. The tension hummed sharply between them.

  "Your cousin has interesting taste," Ollie grinned. "You trust my cooking, right?"

  Alex's voice cut through, correcting him. "Distant cousin, and I believe the term is that I have good taste."

  Then, they both shoved slices of meat onto her plate and stared at her expectantly.

  Charlie's brash nature erupted before she could stop herself, blurting loudly, "Are you both seriously fighting over whose meat I eat?"

  Both men immediately choked on their drinks, coughing and sputtering. The table erupted into shocked laughter as Charlie calmly placed both pieces of meat back onto their respective plates, her cheeks flaming but her expression fierce.

  "I'll just get my own food, thanks," she muttered, reaching decisively for the grill.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  Back at the hotel, Charlie sat cross-legged on the seat by the window, hair damp from her shower, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. Eddie—proudly wearing his "Almond Lover, Fan Club President" badge pinned to his shirt—had pulled out a notebook and pen, ready for what he dramatically called an "exclusive fan club interview."

  "Alright," Eddie began seriously, adjusting imaginary glasses on his nose and holding his pen like a distinguished journalist. "First question, Miss Scorched Almond. Fans are dying to know your most embarrassing moment."

  Charlie groaned, covering her face. "Eddie, no."

  "Come on," he coaxed, eyes gleaming mischievously. "Your fans deserve transparency."

  Charlie sighed dramatically. "Fine. Remember that charity livestream last year?"

  "The 24-hour one?" Eddie grinned knowingly.

  "Yep," Charlie winced. "Well, I forgot I was still streaming after the 24 hours finished and fell asleep on camera for another two hours. Drooling."

  Eddie burst out laughing. "Ah, yes. A true fan-favorite. Did you know there's a viral meme of that moment now? They call it 'Sleeping Almond.'"

  "Oh god," Charlie buried her face deeper in her hands. "Why do I let you handle my fan club again?"

  "Because no one else would willingly do it," Eddie teased, scribbling notes enthusiastically. "Alright, next question. What's your favorite pick-up line?"

  Charlie tilted her head, feigning deep thought. "Did it hurt?"

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, confused. "Did what hurt?"

  Charlie leaned forward with mock seriousness. "When you fell from the vending machine, because you a snack."

  Eddie blinked at her. Silence stretched, and then he snorted, laughter shaking his shoulders. "Terrible. Absolutely terrible."

  She shrugged smugly. "You asked."

  "Alright," Eddie recomposed himself, smiling broadly as he jotted down her response. "Next question: fan theories claim that Scorched Almond has a secret crush. Confirm or deny?"

  Charlie blushed furiously, glancing away quickly. "Deny. Next question."

  Eddie's grin widened mischievously. "Oh? Interesting reaction. Perhaps there's some truth—"

  "Next. Question." Charlie interrupted forcefully.

  "Alright, moving on," he laughed. "Describe your ideal man in three words."

  Charlie sighed dramatically. "Rich, invisible, mute."

  Eddie smirked, shaking his head. "I'll be sure to inform your future husband."

  Charlie rolled her eyes, snorting. "Please do."

  He wished she knew how funny that was to him.

  Eddie leaned in conspiratorially, pen hovering playfully over the paper. "And now the burning question on everyone's mind—does Scorched Almond prefer crunchy or smooth peanut butter?"

  Charlie folded her arms defiantly. "Neither. Roasted almonds only."

  Eddie nodded approvingly. "Excellent branding."

  He cleared his throat theatrically. "Alright, moving on to serious territory. What's your future plans, Scorched Almond? First NeonStrike, then president of the world?" Eddie joked, pen hovering over the paper.

  The playful question sliced deeper than intended, memories of the NeonStrike reps and their enticing offer flooding Charlie's mind. Her smile faded, eyes growing somber as she fell silent.

  "Charlie?" Eddie's playful tone shifted to concern.

  She shrugged, offering a forced smile. "No idea. Retirement in two years maybe."

  Eddie visibly stiffened, his teasing demeanor vanishing instantly, tracking the timeline. "Why two years?"

  Charlie gazed out at Tokyo's glowing cityscape, tugging absently at her hoodie strings. "You probably know already," she murmured softly. "I'm getting married."

  Eddie's hand froze mid-note, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her expression. "And that means you have to retire?"

  She shrugged again, eyes distant. "Dunno. Depends on what my future husband and his family think, I guess."

  The question slipped from Eddie's lips before he could stop himself, voice tight. "And...what do you think of this future husband of yours? This marriage?"

  Another shrug, carefree enough to tighten something painfully in Eddie's chest.

  "No idea," Charlie admitted plainly, gaze still fixed outside. A pause, then she added, almost as an afterthought, "I hear he's a pervert though."

  Eddie's eye twitched involuntarily. "A what?"

  "Yeah," Charlie turned to him, nodding earnestly. "Louisa said he's got this reputation for sleeping around—with lots of women, sometimes multiple at once. Sounds like a total creep, honestly."

  She paused thoughtfully. "God, I hope he hasn't caught anything."

  Eddie forced himself not to grind his teeth, laughing stiffly instead. "Oh really?"

  "Actually," Charlie's eyes widened innocently, "you might know more than I do. His name's Edward Leung—Richard's son. Ever met him?"

  Eddie coughed awkwardly, voice strained. "Uh, no. I don't think I'm important enough for that."

  "Ah," Charlie shrugged dismissively, eyes drifting away again.

  Struggling to contain his mixed emotions, Eddie pushed cautiously onward. "And this marriage—how do you feel about it?"

  Charlie glanced at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

  He frowned thoughtfully. "You know—sad, happy? Annoyed you have to marry someone you've never met?"

  Charlie smiled softly, the expression catching him completely off guard. "Of course not. It's my job."

  "Your job?"

  "Maybe 'duty' is a better word," she corrected quietly. "I'm not stupid, Alex. I know all this—the money, this lifestyle—it's built on blood."

  Eddie stared intently as she glanced down at her hands, as if seeing bloodstains there. "So many people died so my dad can have this. And people like you, risking your lives every day to keep it together."

  She lifted her eyes to meet his, her gaze warm yet sad. "The least I can do is my part. If that means marrying Edward, that's what I'll do."

  He felt struck by her words, seeing her in a different, brighter yet painfully real light.

  Charlie continued softly, "Don't get me wrong—I'm not some tortured princess. I have a good life. I'm grateful."

  She offered him a genuine, heartfelt smile that made Eddie's chest tighten sharply. "And I'm grateful for you and all the brothers*, even if I don't say it enough: thank you."

  That smile hit him harder than he anticipated. Charlie Mak had a thousand faces, each one more fascinating than the last. The burden of Black Lotus rested heavily between them—a shared comfort and curse.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  Charlie sat up suddenly. "You're not putting these questions in the Q&A, right?"

  Alex, who had appeared lost in thought, blinked and laughed softly. "I'm not that crazy."

  "Oh good," Charlie said, visibly relaxing.

  "Last question," Alex said quietly. The intensity in his eyes made her heart skip, though she tried to hide it. "Any regrets? About the marriage?"

  Charlie frowned thoughtfully. "Well, there is one."

  Alex arched a brow, waiting.

  Charlie blushed, not entirely sure why she was answering at all. "It's just...you know, not fair. That Edward guy got to do it all, you know?" she said awkwardly. "Like date, sleep around."

  Alex's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh?"

  "Not that I want to sleep around!" Charlie added hastily. "Just...you know, it might have been nice to date or something—like a normal person." She shrugged, her face turning a brighter shade of red.

  Alex quietly set his notepad and pen down on the desk near the window, then moved slowly over to her side.

  Charlie froze as the distance between them narrowed. Alex leaned in until their noses nearly touched.

  "I'd be happy to volunteer," he said, eyes twinkling.

  Charlie suppressed a cough. "I'm sorry, what?"

  Alex shrugged slowly, deliberately. "Volunteer," he smiled. "To help you balance things with that future husband of yours."

  His hand rose gently to grasp her chin. Charlie's breath caught, held immovable by his dark gaze.

  "After all, who better than me? Your fan club president," he murmured, amused as a flush rushed up her neck. "We could do all that stuff—go on dates...and other things."

  He paused, then added pointedly, "Besides, I even know all your favourite smutty mangas—"

  Charlie let out a loud squeal and a flurry of expletives as she shoved his face firmly into the window and scrambled away from him, darting across the room to brandish a nearby lamp as a weapon.

  Alex winced, massaging his cheek. "Words, Charlie, use your words. I was only joking!"

  "Like hell you were!" Charlie yelled, her face incredibly warm.

  Alex shrugged helplessly, smiling. "Just trying to be helpful."

  His gaze sharpened suddenly. "Or what? Would you prefer that pretty boy, Oliver?"

  Charlie spluttered, caught completely off guard. "W-What are you talking about?"

  Alex leaned back against the window, arms crossed, regarding her quietly. "Is that it? I see how you look at him. You regret not being able to date Oliver? Is he who you want to act out all those mangas with?"

  Charlie stared at him, jaw slack. She had no idea how this conversation had even taken such a turn. What was this even about? And why did he seem so pissed off?

  "You could ask him," Alex's tone was casual, but his eyes hardened. "I'm sure he's been thinking about it."

  Charlie's face felt like it was on fire. "W-What?"

  "But I'd be better."

  Charlie wasn't entirely sure if her heart could keep beating this fast. She stared at Alex like he'd grown another head. Was he drunk?

  Then he started moving toward her.

  "Hey, hey, hey!" she cried, lifting the lamp threateningly.

  Alex caught it easily, tossing it onto the bed.

  Charlie backed up until she hit the wall, her heart pounding furiously, a tightness coiling in her belly that she didn't want to acknowledge.

  Alex slammed a hand beside her head, trapping her.

  His eyes were dark, intense with possessiveness, and something else. "Wanna try?" he murmured, leaning in dangerously close.

  Charlie realized her breath had quickened and swallowed, trying to calm down. Her heart was racing, his gaze consuming her. Her fingers itched strangely, as if she wanted to reach out. But Charlie knew it would be a mistake—a terrible, costly, bloody mistake.

  She blinked, shaking her head a few times before meeting his gaze firmly. She wasn't going to let it happen.

  "Stop it," she said, glaring at him.

  His other hand traced a slow path from her wrist to her shoulder, sending goosebumps blooming across her skin. The sensation nearly made her reconsider as she involuntarily shivered.

  "What if I don't?" Alex asked slowly, eyes challenging.

  Charlie didn't falter, exhaling slowly. "Then a lot of people die, you included."

  Alex blinked, surprised. "What?"

  "You don't seem to understand," Charlie said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I am the daughter of Jonathan Mak, the future daughter-in-law of Richard Leung, the future wife of his son."

  Alex frowned, his brows knitting together.

  "When word gets out that I messed around with some enforcer, do you know how that would make them look?"

  Alex stared at her, his expression unreadable.

  Charlie continued, "My father will kill you—slowly, publicly, to make a point. Richard will kill my friends, everyone here, to remind me of what I did." Her eyes hardened. "And honestly, I don't even know what that Edward guy would do. But let's just say I doubt we would have started on the right foot."

  Alex arched a brow, skeptical. "You're so sure? Didn't you say that Edward guy messed around plenty anyway?"

  Charlie scoffed. "You think gender equality is a thing in the Triads?"

  Alex's eyes narrowed sharply, jaw tightening.

  Charlie placed a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back. "My sister and I were raised knowing exactly what we are," she said clearly. "I have no delusions. If Louisa's fiancé wasn't as useful as he is, my dad would have killed him."

  Alex let her push him away, stepping back to give her space.

  "So this isn't happening," Charlie said firmly, her pulse slowing just a fraction.

  She inhaled deeply, casting her eyes downward, adding quietly, carefully choosing her words, "No matter how...flattered I am."

  Alex stiffened, nodding slightly, face tense.

  "Now get out," Charlie said.

  Alex looked at her sharply, meeting her eyes.

  "Usually I'd have someone beat you up for crossing the line, but you and I are the only ones here. So get out and stand by the door until I say you can come back," she ordered, leaving no room for argument.

  Alex regarded her quietly for a second, then nodded. He grabbed his jacket, ensuring his gun was securely clipped in his belt, and stepped outside, shutting the hotel door softly behind him.

  Charlie, alone in the room, released a breath she'd been holding. She kicked the lamp off the bed and collapsed into the sheets, heart still racing. Her face felt warm at the memory of his breath against her skin, his touch tracing her arm. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it all out. Her dream trip was rapidly turning into a nightmare.

  ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

  Eddie leaned against the hotel hallway wall, exhaustion weighing on him as the jet lag dragged at his bones. He stifled a yawn, glancing irritably down the empty corridor.

  She'd actually kicked him out.

  He'd expected some resistance, but Charlie had gone a step further—literally banishing him to the hallway like a scolded child. The irony wasn't lost on him, and he laughed softly under his breath.

  Did I seriously just cockblock myself?

  He'd spent the last few days carefully building this persona—Alex Lau, the safe and trusted confidant, —almost two years being the fan club president she'd grown comfortable enough to tease. And he wondered if he just flushed all of that trust down the drain in a single impulsive moment.

  The thought made him tense, a thread of frustration tightening in his chest. Eddie wasn't used to this kind of patience, to reining himself in.

  He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. Charlie Mak had him twisted up inside, in ways no one else had ever managed.

  And it also bothered him—bothered him deeply—that Charlie was openly attracted to Alex, while she viewed his real identity, Edward Leung, with complete indifference. Eddie gritted his teeth, irritated with his own ridiculous jealousy.

  How did he end up competing with himself? It was fucking stupid.

  Not to mention, there was Oliver—perfect, charming Oliver. Eddie scowled at the memory of Charlie's blush when that pretty-boy smiled at her. Eddie had never considered jealousy part of his personality, but Oliver drew it out effortlessly, igniting a competitiveness that felt dangerously out of his control.

  Pretty boys are so fucking irritating.

  Eddie inhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax, shaking off his own irritation. Ultimately, Charlie was his fiancée. She wasn't going anywhere. His mistake tonight was merely a minor setback; a miscalculation he would quickly remedy.

  Fine, he thought. She wants some space? I'll give her some—but not too much. She'll ultimately understand she's already mine.

  Hours ticked by in near-silence, broken only by the occasional muffled voices of other guests. He lost himself in thought, mind running in circles until, around 3 a.m., the door behind him clicked softly open. Charlie peeked out into the hall, almost shyly.

  "You can come back in now," she said awkwardly.

  Eddie straightened immediately, meeting her eyes steadily. "I'm sorry," he said plainly. "I crossed a line."

  Charlie nodded, softening slightly. "Apology accepted."

  Stepping aside, she let him back into the room, immediately retreating to her bed and tugging the covers up to her chin. Eddie paused, watching her with careful eyes.

  He offered a small smile. "Still friends?"

  Charlie glanced up at him, her gaze warm despite everything. "Yeh," she said quietly.

  Then she turned abruptly, her voice back to its usual brashness. "Now fuck off, I need to sleep."

  He laughed softly, watching her for just a moment longer before he moved toward the bathroom, stripping off his jacket as he went.

  If she could fall for Alex Lau, then Edward Leung just had to show her he was worthy too. After all, they were one and the same—and he'd make sure she knew that, eventually.