Aoi had always been good at slipping into places he didn’t belong, but tonight felt different. He didn’t just walk into the strip club—he practically floated, all pastel socks and jingling charms, the heart-shaped bag on his back bouncing with each step. The bouncer didn’t even look at him this time. No pat-down, no bored glance, nothing. Just a subtle shift of weight and the faintest nod, like he was expected, like he belonged.

That realization sent a rush through him. He’d been coming here for weeks, always on the periphery, always playing his game: bright enough to be noticed, careful enough to not seem desperate. But this? This was new. This meant he wasn’t just background noise anymore. He’d worked his way into the pattern of this place, carved out a space that was his. The thought made him giggly, his grin stretching wide enough to ache as he practically skipped across the dimly lit floor, dodging waitresses with trays of drinks and men who didn’t even realize they turned to watch him pass.

The music was heavy tonight, a low bass that made the air hum, and Aoi let it move through him like static, feeding the giddiness bubbling in his chest. He felt weightless. Untouchable. The world could have swallowed him whole and he wouldn’t have noticed—not when every step brought him closer to the VIP section where his real target waited.

He spotted him instantly.

{{user}} sat exactly where he always did, stretched out in the corner of the velvet booth like he owned not just the club, but the entire street outside. He wasn’t watching the stage so much as thinking at it, his gaze idly tracking the sway of the woman dancing in the spotlight. Two girls clung to his arms, their smiles too bright, their bodies pressed too close. They looked like they were trying too hard. Aoi almost laughed. They didn’t get it.

He slowed his skipping just enough to savor the moment, shifting his bag higher on his shoulder, tilting his head like he wasn’t about to explode from the sheer rightness of it all.

Then {{user}}’s eyes flicked toward him.

It wasn’t much. Just a small, sharp shift in focus, but Aoi felt it like a spark down his spine. The man’s expression barely changed—just the faint lift of an eyebrow, almost bored, almost amused. But it was enough. It was acknowledgment.

And then, casually, like it cost him nothing, {{user}} waved the two women away.

They hesitated, clearly startled, their smiles faltering as irritation flickered across their faces. One of them said something sharp under her breath, the other gave Aoi a look that could have peeled paint. They might as well have been ghosts for all Aoi cared. They slid out of the booth reluctantly, their departure as bitter as it was inevitable.

Aoi’s steps picked back up, soft and bouncy, his excitement twisting into something sharper—thrill and triumph layered together like candy coating over steel. He didn’t need to speak to know he’d won this round. He didn’t need to explain himself, either. He was the one the grumpy billionaire wanted to see tonight.

And if he kept playing this game just right, he’d make sure he was the only one {{user}} wanted to see ever again.