Vivienne hadn't expected that just a quick breather would lead to a complete change of scenery the moment she pushed open the door again. If earlier the room had resembled a refined gathering of charming degenerates, now it was a full-blown chaos-fest straight out of a nightmare.
The neatly seated rich kids had, after three rounds of drinks, shed their human disguises—ghouls, goblins, and drunk goblins galore.
— The most obvious change? They'd invited outsiders.
And Vivienne had walked in on them just in time to see the group "entertain" a new guest—
"Don't be such a buzzkill! Can't handle it?"
"It's not like we're doing anything to you," Frost Xiao said, puzzled, shoving an overflowing cocktail to a boy's lips. "We just want you to squat and drink, see if you can chug faster. Come on, squat!"
The boy, standing at the edge of the room, bit his lip and stumbled into the table. "I really can't drink anymore…"
Shawn Lin frowned. "Frost, maybe drop it?"
The boy's eyes welled up with tears, cheeks flushed, chin glistening with drink. "Miss, I really can't—mmf! Cough cough—"
"Who invited this guy? Switch him out," Junyao Wan grumbled. "Quit dragging it out. You deaf or dumb?"
The boy staggered, nearly collapsing—only to feel a warm arm catch him.
He looked up in alarm to see a woman he didn't recognize, with black hair, black eyes, and a calm expression. "You…"
Vivienne silently held him steady.
Her eyes flicked toward Westley, who was lounging on the main seat like the world's most elegant bystander. Lazy. Unbothered. Clearly not part of this circus.
Ah.
Of course. He was still a noble through and through.
Attractive men and women leaned flirtatiously against various trust fund babies, all smiles and honeyed laughter.
Vivienne did a quick scan—guides, sentinels, regular folks, all present. Everyone was watching the show, pretending it didn't concern them. Like some bizarre stage play unfolding for their amusement.
Vivienne sighed inwardly, irritated.
What military academy? She should've gone to a drama school instead.
This whole thing was a damn production.
…
"Who's that? Uh… wait, isn't that—"
"Yshi. The girl the Young Duke brought."
"Hahaha Yshi's such a romantic! Hahaha hic — isn't this, like, a 'hero saves the damsel' moment?"
"Yshi."
Westley suddenly spoke, his tone soft. "You haven't finished your drink."
The room went quiet.
Vivienne replied gently, "It's okay. I'll drink it later. But it looks like he's had too much."
She smiled at Frost Xiao and said politely, "I'll take him outside to sober up. I actually know the perfect spot for some fresh air."
While she spoke, her gaze locked straight onto Westley.
Leonard Liem started to protest, "He should go on his own—"
Shawn Lin tugged his sleeve quickly. Leonard blinked, like waking from a dream, then zipped his lips.
"Mm." Westley swirled his glass gently, letting the fragrant liquor slosh within. "Then let's keep playing."
Sensing the shift, Shawn was the first to fill the silence.
"Keep drinking, keep drinking."
"Whose turn was it? Roll!"
They were all drunk anyway. Emotions were running high. Even if everyone tried to stay composed in front of the Young Duke, the alcohol had peeled back a few layers of civility.
Frost Xiao muttered, "What a jinx. I'm remembering that face."
"Alright, alright, shut it, will you? You're already slurring."
The boy in Vivienne's arms was shaking.
Half-holding, half-supporting his wobbly form, Vivienne turned her head slightly and caught a glimpse of his tear-reddened eyes—like dew trembling on a leaf in the night breeze, fragile enough to melt anyone's heart.
Vivienne sighed again, gently guiding his head to rest on her shoulder. Let him hide his face there, away from the judgmental stares.
Then she pushed the door open and led him out.
The rest were too caught up in their game to notice the fleeting cold glint in Westley's eyes.
["Guess I'm a basic bitch too…"]
His gaze flicked over the two "embraced" figures. He raised his glass and took a sip, his lashes lowering to mask the disdain and apathy in his green eyes.
Truly a basic bitch.
Out in the hallway, Vivienne led the boy a bit farther before asking softly, "Can you stand straight?"
"Y-Yes, I can."
The boy answered in a small voice. As soon as Vivienne let go, he straightened up like his life depended on it—still tense like a skittish animal.
Though clearly bullied and made a mess of, he wasn't actually drunk. He was still conscious, still in control.
Everyone knew—saying she was "taking him out to sober up" was just an excuse to get him away from that mess.
Vivienne had considered the possibility—what if this was all some reverse-psych move? What if she just crashed someone's secret plan?
But oh well. Too late. She was the one who stepped in. Sucks to be you.
Luckily, the boy didn't suddenly turn on her. Instead, he shrank back and sincerely said, "Thank you. Thank you so much."
"It's nothing. But from here on, you're on your own."
After all, he came here to pour drinks and ended up upsetting the guests.
"I'll talk to the floor manager. This was just… a mistake." A flicker of hatred passed through his eyes. Vivienne guessed there was more to this story than met the eye, but that wasn't her business.
She began plotting the fastest way out and offered an absent-minded, "Mm. Good luck. Stay safe."
"Ma'am… Guest… Why did you help me?"
Vivienne's lips moved reflexively. She invented a little brother on the spot. "You're the same age as my brother."
Ever seen TV dramas? Read trashy romance novels?
Fill in the rest yourself.
The boy went quiet, seemingly stunned by her answer. His pupils trembled. After a moment, he spoke again, voice shaky. "I heard you call the Young Duke… Westley? Are you… close with him?"
Vivienne raised a brow. "We just met. Why?"
"It's just… I don't remember ever seeing you around him before." The boy bit his lip, a conflicted expression crossing his face, like he'd made a decision. His voice trembled. "Ma'am, are you a noble?"
Well, that came out of nowhere.
If she were a noble, she might've been offended.
But Vivienne wasn't. And she was already planning to dip. So she answered calmly with a shake of her head.
"…Then please, be careful."
"The Young Duke… doesn't like people like us. To someone like him, we're just low-class. If he finds out you're not nobility—that you lied—he won't let it slide."
Vivienne thought: I didn't lie to him, though.
"I appreciate the warning," she said with a faint smile. "But it's probably too late."
She had already pissed off the Young Duke just by saving this kid.
But that was fine.
After asking the boy for the nearest exit route in the building, Vivienne parted ways with him. As she turned the fourth corner....
CRASH! A glass shattered on the floor.
"S-Sorry, I'm sorry, sir—!"
"What the hell are you doing?" A hoarse voice scolded the waiter.
Gavin Thornton?
Vivienne froze, leaned lightly against the wall, and carefully peeked toward the source of the commotion.
A man stood with his back to her, speaking to the server.
His voice was low, threatening. "Not only did you bump into me, you spilled the wine meant for the Young Duke."