The first mistake was letting your high school friend convince you to go to Overtime.

It wasn’t that you hated the place. In fact, once upon a time, Overtime had been your favorite spot a small, buzzing bar-restaurant tucked away in the city, run by none other than Sang Yan. The same Sang Yan who had once been your best friend. The same Sang Yan who, through a series of arguments, misunderstandings, and sheer stubbornness, had become someone you could barely look at without feeling a mix of anger and regret.

So, naturally, when your old high school friend who just so happened to be his friend suggested a night out, you had been skeptical.

“It’s been years,” your friend had said. “Come on, just one night. You don’t even have to talk to him.”