Orchid Alley pulsed with an unsettling rhythm, a hidden vein of vice nestled deep within Chinatown’s underbelly. Vivian walked close beside Noah, trying not to appear intimidated as they made their way through the narrow street. Noah had taken subtle precautions to avoid recognition—small adjustments designed not to draw attention: a dark baseball cap pulled low to shadow his eyes, a few strategically placed adhesive strips giving the illusion of faint scars or bruises along his jaw, and the deliberate rounding of his usually proud shoulders, creating the impression of someone far less confident or dangerous than he truly was. A flickering red neon sign ahead cast its eerie glow onto cracked pavement, marking the entrance of The Red Orchid KTV. A massive, tattooed bouncer eyed them warily, his expression neutral yet subtly calculating.

  Inside, the dim interior of the KTV appeared deceptively ordinary at first glance—karaoke machines hummed softly in rooms lit by garish LED lights, customers laughed loudly, and waitresses navigated cramped corridors balancing trays of alcohol and snacks. But as Noah led Vivian further inside, the atmosphere shifted. The corridor narrowed, and the sounds from the bustling karaoke rooms faded into a hushed, unsettling quiet.

  They approached a heavy, discreet metal door at the end of the hallway, secured by a digital keypad. Noah quickly punched in a code from memory, the keypad glowing briefly before emitting a soft beep. With a quiet click, the door unlocked, and he pushed it open, revealing a hidden passage lined with dark walls and flickering lights, clearly reserved for discreet, private business. The door closed firmly behind them, cutting off any residual noise from the public area.

  “Security measures,” Noah murmured, noticing Vivian’s tense glance at the digital lock. "Keeps unwanted eyes out—and anyone unwanted in."

  Vivian merely nodded, her heart hammering louder with each cautious step. They continued along another short corridor, ending at a small dressing room, its door ajar just enough to reveal someone waiting inside.

  The figure turned slowly as they entered, and Vivian stopped short, a chill trickling down her spine. The young woman facing her was eerily familiar—like gazing into a distorted mirror. The similarities were striking: large expressive eyes and an almost doll-like presence in their appearance. Except where Vivian’s features appeared delicate, this woman’s features were sharp, her mouth more sensuous, and her figure fuller, more pronounced beneath a tightly fitted black dress with a plunging neckline.

  “So you're Vivian,” the woman said softly, her tone deceptively casual. Her eyes, however, betrayed a carefully concealed hostility, glancing subtly toward Noah before returning to Vivian with renewed appraisal. "Interesting. You remind me of someone."

  Vivian felt Noah’s amused gaze on her and glanced his way sharply. He shrugged lightly, a faint smirk on his lips. "You two share a certain… aesthetic."

  Vivian frowned at him, but before she could respond, the woman stepped forward, a delicate hand extended in a mock gesture of greeting. "Call me Mochi. Noah and I are… old friends."

  Noah’s smile tightened imperceptibly, but Vivian didn’t miss it. "We've known each other a while," he said carefully, neither confirming nor denying her implication. He turned toward Mochi, voice cool and commanding. "Let’s get on with it."

  Mochi nodded slightly, hiding her irritation poorly. She retrieved something from a small wardrobe—an elegant lace lingerie set interwoven with delicate silk ribbons. She handed it to Vivian, watching carefully for her reaction.

  "Sammy prefers innocent girls," Mochi explained, her voice tinged with subtle malice. "He likes to feel he's unwrapping a present."

  Vivian’s jaw tightened slightly, but she took the lingerie wordlessly, knowing she had no choice. Glancing uncertainly toward Noah, she paused, expecting to find him observing with his usual provoking interest. Instead, Noah had deliberately turned his back, facing away from her toward the far wall, offering an unexpected gesture of decency that Vivian hadn't anticipated. She blinked, momentarily startled.

  Mochi, watching the exchange carefully, clenched her jaw, irritation simmering beneath the composed surface. She turned her attention sharply back to Vivian, barely masking her envy.

  Vivian quickly changed into the lingerie, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the silk ribbons carefully, ensuring everything was strategically concealed. When she finished, she cleared her throat softly, voice steadier than she felt. "Done."

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  Noah turned around slowly, eyes darkening as they swept over her. His gaze was openly appreciative, a wicked gleam of pleasure lighting his features. He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a quiet, provocative murmur.

  "Perfect," he breathed, reaching out to lightly touch one silk ribbon draped over her shoulder. "Really just like a present waiting to be unwrapped."

  Vivian flushed slightly, anger and embarrassment mingling within her at his deliberate, intrusive closeness. He leaned in further, close enough for his voice to brush intimately against her ear. "Sammy won't be able to resist," he whispered. "But remember, I'll be close by."

  Mochi watched silently, seething beneath her careful mask. She quickly stepped forward, interrupting the charged moment to apply minimal makeup to Vivian's face. Her movements were deliberately restrained, enhancing Vivian’s natural beauty without overshadowing it, but her frustration showed in different ways —the slightly firmer press of the eyeliner, a too hard brush against the cheek.

  When Mochi finally stepped back, Noah met Vivian’s gaze. There was a dark gleam of desire that flashed before quickly disappearing. He regarded her seriously, momentarily shedding his usual cocky facade. "You’ll be fine, Viv," he reassured quietly, his eyes steady. "Trust me."

  Vivian exhaled, surprisingly comforted by his sincerity. She nodded slightly, understanding she had no choice but to trust him now. Mochi impatiently gestured Vivian toward the door, and Vivian cast one last worried glance back at Noah.

  He gave her a confident nod, his voice steady and reassuring, almost gentle. "I'm right here. Don't worry, Viv."

  She held his gaze another second longer, finding herself oddly reassured by the sincerity in his words, before turning to follow Mochi. The door clicked shut quietly behind them, leaving Noah alone.

  Vivian followed Mochi down the narrow, dimly lit corridors, anxiety simmering beneath her carefully composed exterior. The oppressive quiet amplified every sound—the distant hum of muffled karaoke music, occasional laughter behind closed doors, the soft echo of their footsteps on plush red carpeting. The corridors twisted and turned confusingly, lined with identical wooden doors marked only by discreet numbers.

  Each level they descended was separated by electronic locks—keypads glowing softly beside heavy metal doors, subtly reinforcing how tightly this hidden section was guarded. Mochi swiftly keyed in codes without hesitation, her familiarity evident in the fluidity of her movements.

  Vivian's mind drifted briefly to the heated confrontation earlier that evening in Noah's apartment. Lucas had furiously objected to their plan, his normally calm demeanor shattered by uncharacteristic anger.

  “You're insane,” Lucas had snarled, eyes blazing. “Sending Vivian alone into that place—with someone like Sammy?”

  Noah had merely shrugged, his expression infuriatingly untroubled. “It’s the best move we have. Sammy has a weakness. He loves being first to sample the new merchandise at these clubs, especially if there's a good sob story attached. Vivian will have a great narrative: the innocent girl, forced into prostitution because of her father's gambling debts.”

  Lucas clenched his fists tightly, visibly struggling with helplessness. “You know how Sammy operates. What makes you think he’ll talk?”

  “Because his wine will be laced,” Noah had responded calmly, unfazed by Lucas’s anger. “Midazolam—strong enough to make him pliable, talkative, but nothing he'll clearly remember afterward.”

  Lucas had paced restlessly, glaring sharply at Noah. “If anything happens to her—”

  “It won't,” Noah interrupted, voice hard and commanding. “But you can't be involved. Red Phoenix is already suspicious of Black Lotus. If they catch wind that you're involved, it could trigger a war neither side wants. You need to stay far away.”

  Lucas fell silent, glaring bitterly. His anger faded into reluctant acceptance, but his resentment remained palpable.

  Vivian shook the memory away, refocusing as Mochi stopped abruptly at a final, discreet door marked with a polished brass plate: VIP Suite 9. Mochi opened the door slightly, slipped inside briefly, and quickly emerged holding two elegant wine glasses, each half-filled with deep red wine.

  “Hand Sammy the left glass,” Mochi instructed coolly. Her voice was perfectly neutral, but Vivian felt an uneasy twinge at the subtle glint in her eyes.

  Taking the glasses carefully, Vivian steadied herself as Mochi stepped aside, opening the door wider. Inside, the suite was plush yet tasteless—red velvet upholstery, low ambient lighting, and a lingering smell of expensive cigars.

  Sammy Kwan lounged on a leather sofa, his heavy frame sinking comfortably into the cushions. He was a man in his early forties, overweight, with thinning black hair slicked back to hide his receding hairline. He wore a gaudy gold chain around his thick neck and an ill-fitting designer suit, clearly expensive but worn without taste. His expression brightened hungrily as Vivian stepped inside.

  She handed him the glass as instructed, forcing a shy, hesitant smile. Sammy's fleshy fingers brushed hers deliberately, making her stomach twist in revulsion. He raised his glass eagerly, his eyes roaming openly over her barely concealed figure.

  “To new beginnings,” Sammy announced, eyes gleaming predatorily. “Bottoms up.”

  Vivian raised her own glass, heart pounding, and took a careful sip of the bitter wine. As the liquid slid down her throat, she felt dread curl sharply in her stomach.

  Noah, you asshole, you better not be late.

  Behind her, Mochi quietly shut the door, the soft click echoing ominously through the suite, leaving Vivian alone with Sammy as fear settled heavily into her chest.