Chapter 1 Top-Tier Male Escort

On a rare day off, Andy stayed up late watching a horror movie.

The eerie atmosphere relied entirely on the background music and screams, with no truly terrifying scenes-bland as plain water. Due to her obsessive tendencies, she forced herself to finish it, barely keeping her eyes open.

As soon as the ending credits rolled, Andy actually felt a sense of relief. She closed her eyes, and drowsiness immediately wrapped around her thoughts. Just as she was about to drift into sleep, suddenly, the door was pounded heavily.

Bang!

Andy's eyes snapped open.

Through the sliver of moonlight seeping through the curtains, she looked toward the door. Outside, she could clearly hear the thick, slurred voice of a drunken man and the unsteady footsteps staggering away in another direction.

Then came the sound of a door opening and closing.

The noise was mostly cut off.

She stared at the door for a few more seconds.

Only after everything went completely silent did Andy finally relax.

She pursed her lips, feeling a delayed surge of irritation.

How many times had this happened just this week?

Once her sleep was interrupted, it was hard for Andy to doze off again. She turned over, closed her eyes again, and idly let her thoughts drift back to the movie she had just watched.

Hmm.

Was it a ghost movie?

A low-budget horror flick that thought it could scare people.

...

Half-asleep, a ghostly face from the movie inexplicably surfaced in her mind.

Three seconds later.

She shot up abruptly and switched on the bedside lamp.

-

For the rest of the night, Andy slept fitfully. In her half-conscious state, she kept feeling as if a bloody ghost face was staring at her.

It wasn't until daylight fully filled the room that she finally managed to fall into a proper sleep.

The next day, Andy was woken up by a phone call.

Due to staying up late and lack of sleep, her head throbbed with a fine, needling pain. Irritated, she groggily reached for her phone and answered.

A low voice from her childhood friend, Sara, came through, "I'll call you back later."

"......"

Andy's eyelid twitched, her brain lagging for two seconds.

She had been woken up by a sudden phone call.

Fine, that was whatever.

But it wasn't even the main event-just a trailer.

Her morning grumpiness exploded instantly. "Are you-"

Before she could finish, the call was already cut off.

It felt like throwing a punch into cotton. Andy opened her eyes and let out a muffled sigh of frustration. After lying in bed for a while longer, she finally picked up her phone and checked the time.

Almost 2 PM.

Andy stopped lazing around, grabbed a jacket, and got out of bed.

She walked into the bathroom.

As she was brushing her teeth, her phone rang again. She freed a hand to slide the screen and put it on speaker.

Sara spoke first, "Damn, I just ran into a high school classmate. My hair's all greasy, and I'm not wearing any makeup-so embarrassing!"

"You won't actually die from that," Andy mumbled through a mouthful of foam, her words barely intelligible. "You're just looking for sympathy."

"......" Sara was silent for three seconds, too lazy to argue. "Wanna go out tonight? Andy, my dear journalist, you've been working overtime for a whole week. If you don't take a break, I'm afraid you'll drop dead."

"Mm. Where to?"

"How about somewhere near your workplace? Not sure if you've been there. My coworker said there's a bar there, and the owner is ridiculously-" Sara paused, then suddenly asked, "Hey, why do I keep hearing water running? Are you washing dishes?"

Andy, "Washing up."

Sara was shocked, "You just woke up?"

Andy hummed lazily in response.

"It's already 2 PM. Even lunch breaks are over." Sara was puzzled. "What were you doing last night?"

"Watched a horror movie."

"What's it called?"

"Awakening to See Ghosts."

Sara clearly knew this movie and choked, "You call that a horror movie?"

"I watched it and then went to sleep," Andy said as if she hadn't heard the sarcasm. She grabbed a towel and wiped the water off her face. "Then in the middle of the night, I suddenly woke up, and just like in the movie, I actually saw a ghost."

"......"

"So I spent the whole night fighting it."

Sara was speechless. "Why are you suddenly bringing up such an R-rated topic?"

Andy raised an eyebrow. "How is that R-rated?"

"What kind of fight lasts all night?"

"......"

"Enough, stop fooling around with ghosts. Let's go fool around with men." Sara grinned. "Handsome, alive, warm-blooded men."

"Then I'd rather stick with ghosts." Andy picked up her phone and walked out of the bathroom. "At least they're free."

Sara, "Who said men cost money? We can have them for free too."

Andy, "Hm?"

"We can use our eyes."

"......"

-

After hanging up the call, Andy sent another message to her landlord on Facebook, bringing up last night's incident again. After a moment of hesitation, she added that she might not renew the lease once the contract ended.

Two months ago, she had moved from Chicago to New York City.

Her current residence was a place Sara had helped her find. There weren't any major issues-except that it was a shared rental. The landlord had divided an 80-square-meter apartment into three independent rooms, each with its own bathroom, but there was no kitchen or balcony.

Still, the rent was cheap.

Andy didn't have high demands for a living space. Besides, the location was convenient, and the surrounding area was lively. She had even considered staying long-term.

Until one day, when she happened to run into the man next door as she was leaving.

That was when everything started to change.

Unknowingly, the sun had set, draping the small room in darkness. The city's lights gradually flickered on, illuminating the night in another way, while the night markets bustled to life.

Seeing that it was about time, Andy changed her outfit and put on some light makeup.

Sara had been bombing her with messages on Facebook.

Grabbing the small bag from the coat rack, Andy replied with a voice message, "Heading out now." She stepped outside, instinctively glancing at the opposite door before quickening her pace down the stairs.

The two had agreed to meet at the subway station.

Their destination was the bar Sara had mentioned earlier-a place located across from Red Square. Passing through an alleyway, they were soon greeted by a string of neon lights glowing above various storefronts.

A place that only came alive at night.

New York City's famous bar street, often referred to as "Degenerate Street."

Having never been there before, they spent quite some time searching until they finally spotted the bar nestled in a small corner.

The name was quite interesting-"Overtime."

Its sign was surprisingly simple, a solid black background with squared, neatly arranged white letters glowing against it. Among the gaudy, flamboyant neon signs surrounding it, it stood out with an understated presence-like a small hair salon hidden in the midst of the chaos.

"This is actually a good idea," Andy stared at it for a moment before commenting. "A hair salon in a bar street-guys coming here to pick up girls can get a quick styling first."

Sara's mouth twitched as she dragged Andy inside. "Stop talking nonsense."

To their surprise, the interior was not as deserted as Andy had imagined.

They had arrived early, before peak hours, yet more than half the seats were already occupied.

On the stage, a woman with a guitar sat with her head lowered, singing in a soft, soothing voice. At the bar, a blond-haired bartender was skillfully tossing cocktail shakers like a performer, moving with practiced ease.

After settling into their seats, Andy ordered the cheapest drink on the menu.

Sara scanned the bar with a hint of disappointment. "Is the owner not here? I don't see anyone particularly handsome."

Andy rested her chin in her palm and replied absentmindedly, "Maybe it's that bartender."

"Bullshit!" Sara was immediately offended. "My colleague, who basically lives on Degenerate Street, swears this bar's owner is the hottest guy here."

"Maybe he just calls himself that."

"?"

Noticing Sara's hostile glare, Andy sat up a little straighter and clarified, "I mean, maybe."

Sara huffed.

They chatted idly for a while before Sara brought up what happened earlier in the day. "By the way, I ran into my high school vice class president at lunch. He also went to Cambridge for college-same dorm as Charlie, apparently. But I don't think I ever met him."

Hearing that name, Andy's fingers stilled for a moment.

"Speaking of which, do you still remember-" Sara's gaze wandered casually before suddenly locking onto the bar. "Hey, check ten o'clock-do you think that's 'Degenerate Street's poster boy'?"

At the same moment, Andy heard someone call out, "Brother Charlie."

She followed Sara's line of sight.

At some point, a man had appeared beside the bartender.

The dim lighting of the bar cast shadows across his figure. He leaned against the counter with his back facing the bar, head tilted slightly as he spoke to the bartender. He wore a simple black jacket, his tall frame carrying an effortless presence. Even as he hunched slightly, he still stood taller than the bartender beside him.

His eyes were dark, lips tugging into a faintly careless smirk.

The shifting hues of the overhead lights traced across his face, leaving fleeting streaks of color.

Andy recognized him in an instant.

"Holy shit." Sara's voice shot up in pitch, equally stunned. "Girl, the poster boy is Charlie!"

"..."

"The moment I mention him, he appears... Do you still remember? Before you transferred schools, he used to-"

Before she could finish, a sudden clatter interrupted her.

A waiter, seemingly startled, had accidentally bumped into someone. The tray in their hands tilted, sending a glass of alcohol toppling over.

-Spilling right onto Andy's left shoulder.

The cold liquid, along with ice cubes, soaked into her loose-knit sweater, seeping through to her skin. A shiver ran down her spine.

Andy inhaled sharply and instinctively stood up.

Though the bar's music was loud, the commotion wasn't small either.

The waiter turned pale with fright, repeatedly apologizing.

Sara got up as well, brushing ice off Andy's clothes with a frown. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Andy's voice trembled slightly from the chill, but she wasn't angry. She turned to the waiter. "It's okay. Just be more careful next time."

Then, to Sara, she said, "I'm going to the restroom to clean up."

As she finished speaking, she lifted her gaze-

And locked eyes with someone.

Dark, unreadable, and indifferent.

Their gazes met for two seconds.

Andy looked away first, striding toward the women's restroom.

Inside a stall, she took off her sweater, leaving only a fitted inner shirt underneath.

Fortunately, most of the liquid had been absorbed by the outer layer.

Andy clutched the sweater and walked to the sink, dabbing a tissue with water to clean up as best as she could.

Once she was done, she stepped out.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed someone standing in the hallway.

She instinctively looked over-and froze.

Charlie leaned against the wall, a cigarette held loosely between his lips, his posture lazy and relaxed. Unlike before, he had taken off his jacket, now holding it casually in one hand.

Only a black t-shirt remained on his body.

It had been six years since their last meeting.

Andy wasn't sure if he had recognized her. And she didn't know whether she should greet him.

She hesitated for barely a second before lowering her gaze, deciding to pretend she hadn't recognized him either. She continued walking forward, stiffly determined to pass him by.

The dim hallway was lined with sleek, dark marble tiles, their irregular patterns reflecting the scattered light. From here, she could still hear the singer's voice-soft, lingering, full of wistful longing.

She drew closer.

She was about to walk past him.

At that moment-

"Hey."

His voice was languid, almost careless.

Andy stopped, turning her head slightly.

Without warning, Charlie tossed his jacket at her, covering most of her vision.

Andy froze before pulling it down, puzzled.

Charlie still hadn't looked up. Lowering his gaze, he stubbed out his cigarette in the nearby trash bin.

Neither of them spoke first.

Seconds stretched out.

Then, Charlie slowly lifted his eyes, meeting her gaze-his expression distant.

"Let's talk," he said.