Night had fallen, and the city pulsed with neon light.  

Evan stood in the bright lobby of The Cloud Lounge, flanked by his manager and Zack.  

The place buzzed with music and laughter, but the three of them looked like men walking into court.  

Tonight was different.  

The client had specifically asked for Evan to come again.  

The manager wouldn’t dare say no.  

So here they were—Zack smiling like it was just another day, Evan’s stomach tight as stone.  

“How far will it go tonight?” he wondered, already afraid of the answer.  

A black luxury car rolled up to the entrance.  

The door opened, and Mr. Huang stepped out—sharp suit, flushed face, the swagger of someone used to being celebrated.  

“Mr. Huang!”  

The manager rushed forward, his grin wide and desperate.  

“Last night was incredible! We’ve prepared something even better tonight!”  

Zack followed with his usual charm, clasping hands, throwing compliments with practiced ease.  

Evan trailed behind, head lowered, silent.  

They were led to Suite 106.  

It wasn’t the usual lounge setup this time—no stage, no leather couches.  

Instead, a massive round table dominated the room, set for twenty.  

White tablecloth, golden chandelier, crystal glasses.  

Every seat gleamed in the soft light.  

The scene felt less like a party, more like a ceremony—  

one where everyone knew their part.  

“Tonight, we celebrate!”  

Mr. Huang laughed, taking the head seat.  

Moments later, the door opened again.  

The women entered—dozens of them, moving in graceful rhythm, each smile timed perfectly.  

It was another *full attendance* night.  

Every hostess on duty, every light turned warm and golden.  

The room swelled with sound, chatter, perfume.  

Evan kept his eyes down as he sat.  

Then he felt movement beside him.  

Someone took the seat to his left.  

He turned—and froze.  

Sienna.  

Her dress tonight was pale gold, the kind that shimmered quietly instead of shining.  

She moved with calm precision, pouring him a glass of wine.  

“Sir, your drink,” she said politely, her tone even and professional.  

Evan’s throat tightened.  

Something about the moment felt unbearable.  

This kind of attention was supposed to be flattering.  

But all he felt was the weight of it.  

*I don’t belong here,* he thought.  

A chair scraped on his other side.  

Rachel sat down, her energy bright and teasing.  

She leaned closer, whispering with a playful grin.  

“Drink a little more tonight—you’ll loosen up faster, right?”  

Her tone was light, but her eyes studied him.  

Before he could answer, Mr. Huang’s booming laughter filled the room.  

“Evan, my boy!”  

He raised his glass, cheeks flushed with drink and pride.  

“You were *spectacular* last night!”  

He slapped the table, grinning wide.  

“Let’s see if you can outdo yourself tonight!”  

The women around the table broke into laughter, chiming in.  

“Evan’s got moves!”  

“If Mr. Huang says dance, he’ll dance!”  

“Tonight’s gonna be even better!”  

Heat climbed up Evan’s neck.  

He forced a smile, lifted his glass.  

There was no other choice.  

The glasses around the table filled again and again.  

Sienna refilled his drink with practiced grace, never looking at him longer than necessary.  

Rachel kept laughing, nudging him to drink more.  

Across the table, Zack was effortlessly chatting up the client, all confidence and smooth talk.  

The manager watched Mr. Huang’s expression like a hawk, ready to adjust the tone of the night with every laugh.  

And Evan—he just sat there, the noise pressing down on him.  

Each toast, each forced laugh, each clinking glass—it all blurred together.  

The round table gleamed under the chandelier,  

but to him, it felt like a shackle of gold.