There wasn't a single good reason for Jihoon to accept Minho's invitation. But as he thought about it, he realized there was no real reason not to. It had been a terrible evening, and going home would only lead to stewing in his anger until he fell asleep, plagued by nightmares, and woke up in an even worse mood, ready to repeat the cycle the next day at work. He might as well take a chance, make an unexpected decision, accept Minho's offer, and see how the evening unfolded. For once, he could experience something different from the monotonous cycle of going to the restaurant, working, coming home to sleep, waking up, and working again.

"Do you think I don't have the guts to accept?" Jihoon asked.

"Why would I think that? I actually hope you do," Minho replied.

"And what about your girlfriend?"

"My girlfriend? Seoyoung?" Minho raised an eyebrow.

"You have so many that you can't even remember who you took to dinner? It hasn't been that long since you were sitting at the table."

Minho tightened his grip on Jihoon's wrist. He didn't want to hurt him; it was just an automatic reaction as Jihoon was getting on his nerves. "She went home, and she's not my girlfriend, for the record."

"Like I care," Jihoon muttered, looking away and trying to pull his wrist back. "Let go, you're hurting me."

At those words, Minho released his grip immediately.

"You're not obligated to come," Minho grumbled, feeling slightly offended. The invitation could be seen as a purely charitable gesture, and this was how it was being rewarded? He didn't like Jihoon's attitude at all.

"I already said I'm coming."

"Then stop being difficult and follow me," Minho ordered, brushing past Jihoon and leading the way down the alley behind the Prestige.

Jihoon finally decided to let go of some of his stiffness. If he wanted to enjoy the evening, he'd definitely need to change his attitude. He was starting to get tired of being so sharp-tongued. He'd decided to give Minho a chance to redeem himself, so it felt dishonest to continue acting in a way that would only hinder that opportunity.

They walked together down the alley until they emerged onto the street, where the city lights hit Jihoon's eyes. Minho led him to an elegant SUV, the kind that was so expensive most people could only dream of getting close to one.

"Wow," Jihoon murmured, unable to hold back his reaction.

"Hop in," Minho said, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Jihoon climbed into the car with Minho, momentarily struck by the irony of the situation. Just a few hours earlier, he'd been lounging on his couch, reveling in the scandal that had erupted around Minho. And now, here he was, heading who knows where with the same man. If he could have gone back in time and told his past self about this, he would never have believed it.

“Do you know the Thai Majal?” Minho asked, steering the car smoothly down the bustling city streets.

“The Taj Majal? In India?” Jihoon replied, confusion evident in his voice.

“No, the Thai Majal. Same pronunciation, different spelling. It's an exclusive Thai nightclub. They make great cocktails.”

Jihoon had never heard of it. When he felt like drinking, he usually just went down to the local 24/7 and grabbed a few bottles of soju.

“Never heard of it,” he admitted.

“Good, it'll be a surprise,” Minho said with a smirk.

Jihoon suddenly looked down at his casual outfit—a plain t-shirt and jeans—and felt a twinge of concern. “Am I dressed okay for where we're going?” he asked, noticing Minho's more upscale attire, a Dior shirt and pants.

“Don't worry about it. No one's going to say anything,” Minho reassured him.

Jihoon doubted that. Even if no one said anything, he'd probably get a few judgmental looks. But what choice did he have? Going home to change would be pointless since he didn't own anything particularly fancy. The most formal thing he had was probably his work uniform.

“Something like that,” Minho replied, smirking. “But mainly, I just want a drink and to see if a little alcohol will loosen you up instead of talking to me like you’ve got a stick up your ass.”

“Yah!” Jihoon exclaimed, clearly offended. “I’m just being cautious! It’s not easy to trust, not after everything that happened.”

“I’ve already explained that it’s all in your head and I had nothing to do with it. So, relax, Rambo.”

“Rambo? What does that have to do with anything?” Jihoon asked, confused.

“I don’t know, you just seem all geared up for a fight. There’s no need for it.”

They parked outside the Thai Majal, and even from the outside, it was clear this place was a cut above the rest. The building had a sleek, modern look, with subtle Thai-inspired patterns decorating the facade. The entrance was marked by two tall, golden statues that added an exotic touch. Soft lighting gave the whole place a warm, inviting glow. There was a velvet rope at the entrance, guarded by a bouncer who looked like he was picking and choosing who got in. Through the large glass doors, they could see inside: dim lighting, stylish decor, and a crowd that looked like they knew they were somewhere special.

A man in the club's uniform approached the car as Minho stepped out, and Jihoon followed suit. For a moment, Jihoon was confused since they had stopped in the middle of the street with the hazard lights on. It quickly became clear when Minho handed the man his keys—it was a valet service. Jihoon had never experienced anything like it. Even if he could afford a car, finding a parking spot would always be his responsibility.

"Come on, let's go," Minho said.

They entered the club without any issues, with all the staff greeting and smiling at Minho as if they knew him well, which made Jihoon think they probably did. Minho had likely been there dozens, if not hundreds, of times, with who knew how many different people. Jihoon didn’t feel special—in fact, he was probably the least welcome of all Minho’s past companions at this place. He tried to push those thoughts aside and instead focused on how meticulously designed the interior was. It was obvious that a famous interior designer had been involved, as every detail spoke of taste and a cohesive design theme.

One of the many waiters, who seemed to recognize Minho as an old friend, escorted them to one of the tables in the mezzanine area. Despite there being a staircase, they didn’t have to take it. It was unthinkable for such wealthy and well-dressed guests to climb stairs and risk sweating or getting tired. Instead, they took a glass-walled elevator that quickly whisked them upstairs.

“This place is amazing,” Jihoon said, awestruck.

“Haven’t you ever seen an elevator before?” Minho teased.

Jihoon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He didn’t like being openly mocked, especially in front of a waiter. But the waiter didn’t react, maintaining professional composure throughout. He seated them at their table and handed over the menus.

Jihoon reached for one of the menus, but Minho’s hand stopped him, pressing the menu flat against the table. “Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “You’re ruining my line.”

“Okay, fine. I trust you.”

“Good choice,” Minho said with satisfaction, stacking the menus neatly. “I’ll order. You just eat, drink, and enjoy the night.”

Jihoon wasn’t sure how to respond, so he said nothing. Minho ordered a variety of dishes and drinks for them. After the waiter left, Jihoon finally voiced his confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?”

“Why you’re doing all this for me.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like it’s a big sacrifice…”

“You could have spent the evening with your ‘not-girlfriend’ instead of an ex-colleague you were never really close to.”

Minho shrugged. Jihoon didn’t press the issue, but Minho had his reasons. He wanted to see if Jihoon was even slightly attracted to him, and alcohol could help reveal that. Besides, he found their constant bickering amusing—far more entertaining than Seoyoung’s passive demeanor.

When the first cocktails arrived, Minho cast a nearly predatory glance at Jihoon and said, “I forgot to mention the rules for the evening.”

“Here comes the catch,” Jihoon said, sensing from Minho’s look that it couldn’t be anything good.

“How suspicious you are,” Minho sighed, clearly annoyed by Jihoon’s reaction.

“I’m just cautious, as I’ve said,” Jihoon replied.

“Anyway, here’s the rule: I’ll ask you questions, and you have to answer. After each answer, you’ll take a sip. But if you refuse to answer, you’ll have to drink three sips.”

“Sorry, but what kind of game is this? I always lose,” Jihoon protested.

“You’re not losing anything because you’ll be drinking more expensive alcohol than what you’ve earned tonight working a full shift at Prestige,” Minho said with a somewhat boastful tone. “You’ve got nothing to lose, and these rules are non-negotiable.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes. “Fine. So, what’s the first question in this interrogation?”

Minho took a sip from his cocktail, which had tangy and dry flavors, and then flashed a decidedly mischievous smile. “Do you still feel sexual attraction toward men?”