?

  The restaurant wasn’t far, but the car ride felt longer than it should have, at least for Mira.

  She sat in the backseat, arms crossed, waiting for Camille to start something.

  But to her surprise, Camille just looked weirdly thoughtful.

  For once, she wasn’t smirking. She wasn’t poking fun. She was just… watching Adrian as he drove.

  It wasn’t awkward. Adrian, as usual, didn’t bother filling the silence. His hands were steady on the wheel, his gaze focused ahead. He was completely at ease, the picture of control.

  Mira shifted slightly. It wasn’t like she wanted Camille to tease her, but the silence felt suspicious.

  Finally, Camille exhaled, tilting her head. “Y’know… I still can’t believe you actually came.”

  “You invited me.”

  “Yeah, but you usually say no to things like this.”

  Adrian kept his eyes on the road. “I was already at the hospital. The restaurant is on the way. Declining would require unnecessary explanations.”

  Camille snorted. “So basically, you came because saying no was too much work?”

  Adrian didn’t confirm or deny.

  “You are fascinating.”

  Mira sighed. “Camille, please stop treating him like a rare species.”

  Camille laughed. “I mean… isn’t he?”

  Adrian ignored her. The car ride continued in peaceful silence.

  Mira, relieved that the teasing wasn’t over-the-top, leaned back in her seat. Maybe, just maybe, tonight wouldn’t be a disaster.

  …She should have known better.

  ?

  When they arrived, the rest of the group was already waiting.

  As soon as Adrian stepped inside with them, Naomi grinned like she had won a bet. “I can’t believe it. He actually showed up.”

  Elara smirked. “You owe me, Naomi. I told you he’d come.”

  “You guys were betting on this?” Mira raised her voice in disbelief.

  Elias, ever the calm one, adjusted his glasses. “Would you have expected otherwise?”

  Mira had no argument.

  The group got seated, and then came the real challenge.

  Hotpot was all about teamwork, choosing the broth, deciding on ingredients, making sure the cooking pace matched everyone’s needs.

  Which meant, disaster.

  Naomi, eyes gleaming, grabbed the menu. “Alright, let’s get the spiciest broth they have.”

  “Agreed,” Valeria grinned. “Let’s see if Adrian can actually handle it.”

  Adrian, unbothered, took the menu from Naomi’s hand, scanned it for a second, and set it back down. “It’s fine.”

  Camille watched him closely. “That’s not a yes or a no.”

  Adrian remained as neutral as ever. “I can eat spicy food.”

  Mira exhaled. Of course he can.

  Then, just as Naomi was about to place the order, Adrian spoke again.

  “The second pot should be mild.”

  The group paused.

  Elara asked, “Why? You just said you can handle spice.”

  Adrian, as usual, didn’t explain himself.

  “It’s necessary,” he said simply. Then, without waiting for a response, he signaled the waiter.

  “The spicy broth,” he said. “And one mild.”

  Mira stared.

  The group stared.

  Naomi blinked. “Wait. Hold on.”

  Camille’s eyes gleamed. “Adrian. Vale. Just ordered mild broth.”

  Mira panicked. If they figured out why, they’d never let it go.

  Before she could stop them, Valeria gasped. “Oh my god, is it, Mira?!”

  Mira choked. “No. Absolutely not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  Adrian, as expected, didn’t react.

  Naomi nudged Mira. “But you do have low spice tolerance.”

  Camille grinned. “And Adrian just made sure you could eat tonight.”

  Mira was about to die.

  She had to shut this down. Fast.

  “Or maybe,” she said quickly, “he just didn’t want you guys whining if the spice was too much.”

  Naomi smiled mischievously. “I live for spice!”

  Elias deadpanned. “Naomi, you literally cried last time we ate here.”

  “It was an emotional experience…”

  Mira took the distraction and ran.

  By the time they placed the rest of the order, the topic had shifted, and no one questioned Adrian further.

  But as she reached for her drink, she noticed, Adrian wasn’t looking at her.

  Not directly.

  But there was the faintest, almost imperceptible glance in her direction.

  Like he knew exactly what he had done.

  And chose not to comment on it.

  With the hotpot bubbling, the teasing finally settled down, and everyone started enjoying the meal.

  Naomi stretched. “I forgot how much I loved hotpot.”

  Elara replied dryly, “You love food in general.”

  Valeria rested her hands on the table. “Speaking of, midterms are coming. Anyone actually prepared?”

  A collective groan spread across the table.

  Elias, ever composed, sipped his tea. “That depends. Define ‘prepared.’”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Naomi laughed. “See? That’s lawyer talk. You’d be a great defense attorney.”

  Camille shifted forward in her seat. “Wait, wait, let’s go around the table. Rate your midterm stress level from 1 to 10.”

  Elara, instantly: “12.”

  Valeria: “9, but only because I’m in denial.”

  Naomi: “8, but I’ll pretend it’s a 4.”

  Mira sighed. “6. But it’ll be a 10 soon.”

  Camille: “I live in a constant state of academic suffering, so infinity.”

  Laughter rippled around the table.

  Then, eyes turned toward Adrian.

  Elara tapped her chopsticks against her bowl. “And you, Vale?”

  Adrian, calmly eating, didn’t even look up. “Irrelevant.”

  Silence.

  Then, Camille spoke up again. “That’s not a number, Adrian.”

  Elias added, “That means he’s at 0.”

  Valeria let out a dramatic breath. “Must be nice to be a genius.”

  Adrian stayed silent, the stillness around him somehow speaking louder than words, just slightly edged with dry patience.

  As they ate, the topic naturally moved away from exams and toward seasonal plans.

  Elara straightened in her chair. “Speaking of suffering, anyone got autumn plans?”

  Valeria played with her spoon. “Depends on how bad the exams go.”

  Mira traced the rim of her glass. “I kinda wanted to go apple picking.”

  Naomi brightened. “Or a Halloween trip somewhere haunted.”

  Elias shook his head. “I refuse.”

  Naomi laughed. “Oh, come on, Elias.”

  Camille tapped her fingers on the table. “Wait, but winter vacation is more important. Anyone traveling?

  The table buzzed with excitement as everyone started discussing winter plans, who was visiting family, who was traveling abroad, and who was just locking themselves inside for two weeks.

  At some point, Elias turned to Adrian, giving him space to actually talk.

  Elias: “Do you have any plans for winter break?”

  Adrian, unfazed: “Not decided yet.”

  Elias took a sip of his tea. “If you’re around, you should join us. We usually plan something before everyone leaves.”

  The table paused.

  It wasn’t a joke. It wasn’t teasing. Just a normal, genuine invitation.

  Adrian didn’t respond immediately. His fingers rested lightly against his cup, gaze unreadable.

  Mira glanced at him, half expecting him to ignore it entirely.

  Then, after a small pause, Adrian simply said, “I’ll consider it.”

  The group blinked.

  Camille, whispering: “Did Adrian Vale just say he’d consider social plans?”

  Elara, whispering back: “Are we in an alternate universe?”

  Elias just smiled slightly and moved on.

  After an hour of eating, laughing, and somehow not making Mira completely lose her mind, the hotpot dinner finally wound down.

  ?

  As the last bites were taken and the bubbling broth began to simmer down, a staff member approached their table with a friendly smile.

  “Hi everyone,” she said brightly. “We’re running a promotion tonight for big groups, free-flow drinks and snacks if you'd like to hang out in one of our private rooms. We’ve got board games and card games set up, perfect for after dinner.”

  Naomi immediately perked up. “Wait, free snacks?”

  Mira was half-listening, but her gaze shifted toward Adrian, already wondering if he was about to make an excuse to leave.

  Before anyone else could speak, Elias adjusted his glasses and nodded thoughtfully. “Might be nice to stay a bit. Dessert, drinks, let the food settle.”

  Then, with the casual ease only Elias could pull off, he turned slightly toward Adrian. “You coming?”

  Mira held her breath.

  Adrian glanced at the staff member, then at the group, then, finally, at Elias. “Okay.”

  A beat of stunned silence passed.

  Camille blinked. “Wait. That was… fast.”

  Elara narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “You’re not being forced to stay, right?”

  Adrian, as always, didn’t explain himself.

  But Mira saw the tiniest shift in his expression. Not a smile, but close. Almost.

  Without a word, he stood up and followed the others toward the private room.

  And Mira, heart doing something it absolutely shouldn’t be doing, simply followed.

  ?

  The private room was a pleasant surprise.

  Warm, ambient lighting glowed from paper lanterns overhead, casting a soft golden hue over the wooden walls. Cushioned seats lined the low table in the center, and colorful throw pillows were scattered around invitingly. In one corner, a small bar cart was stocked with drinks, sodas, fruit punch, and a few bottles of sake and beer, with bowls of dried fruits and snacks neatly arranged beside it. A shelf near the wall held an assortment of board games, from classics to newer strategy-based ones.

  “Okay, this is… actually cute,” Naomi said, immediately plopping down on a beanbag and grabbing a mochi snack.

  Valeria flopped down next to her. “I want my living room to look like this.”

  Camille headed to the game shelf. “Ooh, they have Wavelength, Codenames, Dixit, ”

  Elias moved to the far end of the table and poured himself a glass of tea. “I vote something that requires at least a little brain power. No charades. I’m still recovering from last time.”

  Mira stepped into the room last, scanning for a seat, and hesitated when she realized the only empty cushion left was beside Adrian.

  He had already taken a spot near the corner, legs folded neatly, posture relaxed in a way that still looked like he was prepared to leave at any moment. But he didn’t look uncomfortable. Just… observant. His eyes flicked toward the drink cart, then back to the group.

  Elias took one step forward, holding the rule sheet like it was a case briefing.

  “Dart and Confession. The game’s simple,” Elias said, evenly. “Each of us has a secret objective. You complete it by throwing darts and answering the questions linked to the numbers you hit. If you meet your objective, still have at least one token, and no one has guessed what you're up to… you win.”

  “If you think someone’s getting close, you can spend three tokens to guess their objective. If you’re right, they’re disqualified. If you’re wrong, you’re out instead. Either way, you keep playing , just not for the win.”

  He paused just long enough for silence to grow sharp.

  “And if you hit the bullseye , number twenty-one , you get a power strike. Choose carefully. You can either ask anyone a question they must answer, or take two tokens from them, or just gain three tokens straight. No penalty, no question, just tokens.”

  Another glance, more deliberate this time.

  “And one more thing. When someone wins, the people with the fewest tokens left are considered the losers. There might be more than one. The punishment?” He folded the rule sheet. “We decide as a group.”

  Then, more softly, without drama, “If anything’s unclear during the game, just ask. We’ll explain it as it comes.”

  There was a pause after Elias finished reading , the kind that lingered not from confusion, but because everyone was waiting to see if something dangerous had slipped past unnoticed.

  Camille was the first to speak, steady and direct. “Alright. But what about punishment? If someone wins, and a few of us end up with no tokens left, what then?”

  Naomi glanced at the box and kept her fingers moving along the edge of its ribbon. “Shouldn’t it still be fun? I mean, not... actual suffering.”

  Mira didn’t wait. “Mild suffering,” she said. “Maybe the winner gets to assign one dare to each loser.”

  Valeria spoke as if it had already been decided. “Yes. And the dares should match the crime. Like… poetic justice.”

  “What even is poetic justice in a game like this?” Elara asked, sounding far too calm for someone questioning vengeance.

  “Being forced to confess more,” Mira said.

  From his seat near the corner, Adrian’s voice slipped in, low and unbothered. “Assuming the winner isn’t sentimental.”

  “Assuming the winner isn’t you,” Mira muttered.

  Elias turned a page back in the rule sheet. “Then it’s settled. Whoever wins assigns one dare per loser. It has to be fair. No vanishing mid-turn.”

  Camille added, “And if someone refuses?”

  “They pay the dinner bill,” Naomi said gently.

  The room didn’t even pause.

  Laughter broke like a wave, bubbling over the cushions and rugs and half-finished drinks. Camille collapsed into the nearest pillow pile with a gasp of pure betrayal. “Naomi. You can’t say things like that with a smile.”

  Valeria spun in a slow circle, arms stretched toward the ceiling like a dramatic ghost. “I’ve seen my future. I’m bankrupt and holding a dessert menu.”

  But Mira stood up straighter, smoothing down her sleeve like she was preparing for battle.

  “Okay. That’s it. We need to play seriously now. This is no longer a game. This is war with receipts.”

  Elias nodded once, already noting down names on the scoreboard like a man preparing for legal consequences.

  Adrian sat where he was, legs crossed, back relaxed against the low bench.

  Elara looked at him, lips tilted with mischief. “You know, Adrian, if you’d like to politely withdraw from the game before we start, now’s your last chance. No shame in walking away.”

  He met her gaze calmly.

  “I don’t withdraw. And I don’t lose.”

  A wave of noise answered him, laughter, mock groans, applause. Valeria slid dramatically into the seat cushions. Camille whispered something about tax fraud and milkshakes. Naomi laughed until she had to cover her mouth.

  Elias shuffled the cards. Each card was passed clockwise, face-down, one by one, his movements smooth and sure, like a lawyer setting down evidence.

  Mira flipped hers first. She read it quickly, then froze, her expression rippling through confusion, doubt, and something like dread. Her brows pulled together, her lips parted like she might protest, but she caught herself. Her fingers tightened around the card, holding it as if it might change if she stared long enough. She looked up once, eyes darting across the room, then down again, already overthinking.

  Adrian opened his card with a smooth flick. He read it without blinking, then let his gaze drift around the circle, not sharply, not with calculation, but out of habit. He scanned each face like someone checking the temperature of a room before deciding whether to stay. Mira’s tension, Naomi’s stillness, Camille’s narrowed focus, Valeria’s calm, all filed away somewhere behind his eyes. He set his card down. No change in his face, no hint of what he’d seen.

  They decided the order with a quick round of rock-paper-scissors, hands clashing without much thought. It ended as quickly as it began.

  Mira slouched forward, shoulders dropping, her face somewhere between disbelief and reluctant acceptance. “Why is it always me?” she said, more to herself than anyone else, already reaching for the first dart. Whether it was luck or bad luck, no one could quite tell, but somehow, she always ended up going first.

  ?