In a dim corner of the bustling bar, where the sounds of music blended with the chatter of customers and the scent of alcohol hung in the air, the girl moved quickly, carrying a heavy tray in her hands. Amid the rush, she mistakenly delivered a drink to one of the men seated at the back table.

The man narrowed his eyes, his expression turning sour, then shouted angrily: — "What is this nonsense?! Is this what I ordered?! Are you stupid?!"

She froze, trying to explain gently, her head slightly bowed: — "I’m sorry, it seems I brought the wrong drink. I’ll fix it right away..."

But his voice only grew louder as he rose from his seat, pushing the chair back with force, his hand beginning to lift toward her. In that very moment, the scene was cut by a calm, firm voice — sharp as a blade slicing through the air: — "Don’t hit her."

Everyone turned toward the source of the voice. It was the man seated beside him — handsome, silent until now, yet his presence was unmistakably commanding. He stared at his companion with a cold gaze and added: — "Bring her to me… I’ll handle her."

Then he rose without looking at her, calmly picked up his coat, and walked steadily toward the exit..