âThank you for coming. Have a good time.â
The poor doorman opened and closed the door for each person entering, bowing his head. People were coming in almost every minute.
But he wasnât in a position to pity anyone, especially not here.
As soon as they entered the lobby, Eugene was surprised to see the long line. Every attendee of this party seemed to be undergoing a body check at the entrance to the hall.
Eugene rolled his eyes to survey his surroundings. The lobby, decorated like a 19th-century English mansion, was incongruously filled with armed guards, and surveillance cameras were busy turning at every corner.
No wonder they let us in easily at the hotel entrance.
âItâs like rush hour.â
In front of the scene, Carlyle whistled leisurely. As if it was none of his business.
Yeah. Itâs probably none of his business. There probably isnât anyone here who can be as confident as him.
But unlike Carlyle, Eugene, who probably had the most on his mind, had to force himself not to run away.
The camera is barely the size of a thumbnail. Itâs unlikely theyâll notice it just by scanning. Judging by how quickly the line is moving, they donât seem to be checking that thoroughlyâŚ.
ââŚWhatâs that?â
âThat?â
âThat⌠stick thing.â
Even though he had a vague idea from seeing it in movies or dramas, Eugene asked. Not because he didnât know, but because he didnât want to believe it.
âHavenât you been to an airport? Itâs a metal detector.â
Carlyle, glancing at the long, flat stick Eugene pointed at, was indifferent. But Eugeneâs heart dropped like it was rolling off a cliff. At the same time, all his senses became overly alert, then suddenly shut down.
Eugene wanted to close his eyes tightly and open them again. Maybe then the situation in front of him would disappear like a dream.
In reality, all he could do was stare straight ahead, afraid of raising suspicion.
Damn it, damn it. Damn it all.
Are you crazy? How am I supposed to avoid that?
âIâve⌠never been to an airport. Iâve only seen it in movies, never in real life.â
Even with his mind blank, Eugeneâs mouth moved on its own. It was almost instinctive. A desperate attempt to avoid suspicion.
âThen what did you take from West Virginia to New York?â
âA night bus.â
âHmm.â
Amber eyes narrowed. For some reason, he seemed dissatisfied or suspicious.
Why? Was there something suspicious in what I said? Damn it, damn it. I shouldnât have asked in the first place. I shouldnât have run my mouth.
Eugene barely maintained a neutral expression, suppressing the facial muscles that threatened to twitch. Now wasnât the time for self-reproach, as Carlyle was watching him intently.
Just as he reached his limit.
âHow unsophisticated. How could you have never been on a plane?â
ââŚSorry for being unsophisticated. If itâs such a problem, why donât you take me on one, Mr. Carlyle?â
Phew. His heart, which had felt suspended in mid-air, settled back in place. Luckily, it was just a tease over something trivial. If it werenât for the damn thing in his pocket, he wouldnât have had to worry about every little thingâŚ.
Eugene paused in his mental tirade against Zachary. Carlyle⌠was smiling brightly.
Genuinely pleased. Not teasing or mocking, just purely happy, and his heart, already pounding, felt like it would burst through his ribs.
Why is this happening? Is it because every time this man is this happy, something bad happens? Is this what they call the Pavlovian effect?
âAlright. Iâll take you on your âfirstâ flight.â
âYeah⌠sure.â
âDonât go with anyone else before that. Got it? The first time is with me.â
âI donât have anyone to go with. No time either. You know that better than anyone, Mr. Carlyle.â
For some reason, Carlyle seemed very satisfied with his answer. Nodding, he closed the gap to the now much shorter line in a single stride.
Of course, Eugene felt like jumping into the road every time the line shortened.
Regardless of the indoor temperature, which was generously heated, his fingertips grew colder. Before he knew it, the line had completely shortened, and it was Carlyleâs turn.
His superiorâs turn was over in no time. Whether they recognized Carlyle or it was just standard procedure, they waved the wand around his sides, and he was through. One thing, though, âHave a good timeâ was particularly loud during Carlyleâs turn, and it probably wasnât just his imagination.
âNext, please.â
As he stepped forward, Eugene thought. Should I run away now? No, thatâs crazy. Should I have ditched the camera earlier? But there were too many CCTVs and too many eyes.
Even if it meant raising suspicion, should I have made an excuse to go to the bathroom or say I left something in the car-
Just as Eugene, standing in front of the guard, was about to speak.
âIâll handle this.â
Carlyle interrupted.
The guard blinked in surprise. Carlyle, undeterred, waved the guard back. The guard, looking flustered, but trusting Carlyle, didnât say much. Instead, he handed Carlyle the metal detector.
Amazingly⌠Carlyle waved it off.
âItâs fine. If he can even wield a box cutter, itâll be a miracle.â
âButâŚ.â
âIs my companion that untrustworthy?â
âNo, sir.â
Eugene watched the series of events unfold like a fool, blinking. Suddenly, a savior had appeared before him, and it was none other than Carlyle.
âNow, letâs do a body check.â
But the savior standing in front of him was a rather sinister one.
Smiling brightly, Carlyle placed a hand on his shoulder. That was fine. Even when Carlyleâs large hand ran down his arm, it was still okay.
But when he touched the inside of his coat and jacket, Eugene felt something was wrong.
The hand that swept down from just below his armpit, along his ribs, to the hollow of his waist, was slow and deliberate. As if the purpose was to leave a mark, not to find a weapon.
â-Ugh.â
When Carlyleâs long thumb pressed near his navel, a sound escaped him involuntarily.
Heat surged to his neck. He lowered his head to avoid the almost stinging gaze.
But that was a mistake. To check his lower body, Carlyle knelt on one knee in front of him. As a result, he had to face Carlyle directly.
The light-colored eyes were hot, as if boiling inside. So hot that it felt like the blood in his veins was heating up.
For some reason, he couldnât look away. As if hypnotized, he had no choice but to meet the eyes fixed on him.
With their gazes locked, Carlyle slowly swept down him. From his waist to his hip bone.
Finally, to the pocket where the bulk was.
Carlyle raised an eyebrow. Eugene, as if entranced, reached into his pocket.
âWant some?â
What Eugene offered was a sour candy from TOXIC WASTE. When he had taken off his coat, he had put a few in his pants pocket as a bluff, just in case the bulge was questioned.
Carlyle, who had stood up, accepted the candy. A red tongue peeked between his lips. Carlyle, who hadnât taken his eyes off him for a moment, popped the candy into his mouth.
His neat brow furrowed. But a smile-like expression appeared on his face.
âSour.â
â ⢠â ⢠â
The grand marble columns and gold ornaments, the massive chandelier that seemed like it might collapse the ceiling, and the stained glass ceiling visible behind it.
Tall palm trees, out of place for the season and location, were scattered around, yet everything blended together in a strangely harmonious and beautiful way.
The place Eugene entered after Carlyleâs inspection was exotic and classical enough to capture anyoneâs attention. However, Eugene couldnât freely appreciate such beauty.
It wasnât just because of the camera in his pocket adding to his unease. It wasnât because of the men in black suits scattered around the columns and walls, nor the surveillance cameras conspicuously placed around.
âWhere are you sneaking off to?â
âNo, Iâm not going anywhere⌠I just want to walk a bit apart.â
Carlyle, noticing Eugene subtly distancing himself, glared. Every time Carlyle spoke, there was a sound of candy clinking against his teeth.
Trying not to focus too much on that, Eugene furrowed his brows as if asking for understanding. Even as he spoke, he was slowly moving away from Carlyle.
He knew this man attracted attention.
But the moment they entered and the gazes poured onto him, Eugene was overwhelmed.
It was as if hundreds of eyes had been waiting just for this man, all focusing on the open door at once. Eugene realized for the first time that receiving so many gazes at once felt like being thrown into solitary confinement.
Of course, the suffocating pressure was only momentary. Soon, he felt a panic as if abandoned in the middle of the ocean.
Even just standing next to him was like that; he couldnât imagine how this man endured all those stares at once. Eugene looked up at Carlyle, unable to hide his overwhelmed expression. The man himself seemed unfazed. Instead, he frowned as if he couldnât understand Eugene.
âWhy? Are you embarrassed by me?â
âNo, itâs just that everyone is staring too much.â
Only then did Carlyle seem to realize the stares directed at him and looked around.
Pretending to talk among themselves while sneaking glances was the least of it. Most didnât hide their blatant stares at Carlyle, shrugging their shoulders or moving their bodies to catch his attention. It felt like being at a mismatched mating event.
However, no one dared to approach, as if they might get bitten if they spoke first.
âI donât know why youâre so tense. There are fewer people than usual-â
âCarlyle!â
Except for one person, of course.
A voice echoed across the open space. Eugene recognized it from before. Looking towards the source, he saw Henry Ringham near the central fountain.
His son, Julian Ringham, and the old man they had seen at the club were also gathered around him. Fortunately, Marcus, who was said to be his subordinate, was not visible.
Everyone else around was unfamiliar. However, they all had a sharp presence and an aura that deterred any casual approach.
âOh dear.â
Carlyle clicked his tongue. It seemed he couldnât avoid the nagging.
Why bother caring? Just leave him behind. Eugene grumbled inwardly.
âStick close. Or Iâll hold your hand.â
Carlyle, crunching the candy in his mouth, advised. Despite the noise around, that sound was particularly clear.