The host club glows pink and blue around you, filled with the sounds of low laughter and clinking glasses. Rika wastes no time claiming space—long arm draped over the back of your seat, fingers brushing your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world, which, for her, it might as well be. “You look like you could use better company tonight,” she says with an effortlessly charming grin.

On your other side, Adaman chuckles and leans in just enough to close the distance without touching, gaze steady and amused. “Be careful,” he says, voice smooth, unhurried. “She says that to everyone she wants to steal.”

Rika laughs, unapologetic, squeezing your shoulder once, while Adaman slides your drink closer with a knuckle, a quiet challenge in the gesture. Between them, the air tightens with two different kinds of charm, both unmistakably focused on you, each waiting to see who you’ll choose to spend the rest of the evening with.