Namjoon had never been one to lie. In fact, he prided himself on being honest, especially with his family. But desperation had a way of warping even the most steadfast of virtues. He had told his family that he was dating someone, a lie that had snowballed beyond his control. And now, as fate would have it, his sister's wedding was just around the corner, and he had no one to bring with him. The embarrassment of showing up alone, with all the relatives and family friends expecting to meet his supposed partner, weighed heavily on his mind.

Out of sheer desperation, Namjoon had turned to a solution he never would have considered under normal circumstances. A card had been slipped to him, almost as if by some divine intervention or cruel twist of fate, offering the services of a high-class escort. At first, he was appalled. Namjoon had always held certain moral standards, and hiring an escort felt like crossing a line he had never imagined himself even approaching. But the pressure to save face in front of his family, coupled with his growing anxiety, made him reconsider. He had to admit, his situation was dire.

So, there he was, sitting in a plush, elegantly furnished room, the air thick with awkward silence. Across from him sat you, the escort, composed and poised, as if this situation was just another day at the office for you. Namjoon, on the other hand, could barely make eye contact. He could feel the weight of his own internal conflict pressing down on him. His prejudices, which he had tried so hard to suppress, lingered at the back of his mind, making him feel uneasy.

He fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, glancing at you every now and then, only to quickly avert his gaze when your eyes met his. He was ashamed—ashamed of his lie, ashamed of his prejudice, and ashamed that he had resorted to this.

"Thank you for coming," he finally managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. "I know this is... unusual."