"It would be great if that's possible."

  Elian looked at the boss with a hint of tentativeness, anticipation hidden in his eyes.

  "Fine... Camilla, give it to him." Vance's tone carried a trace of annoyance.

  "Alright, alright, it's rare for you to speak up. I'll get it right away." Camilla said with a laugh, promptly pulling a photo from her handbag.

  "You actually carry your own photo with you? How narcissistic." Vance's voice was icy.

  "Can't be helped. I have many fans."

  Camilla wore an expression that said 'you just don't get it.'

  "You're not some Hollywood star."

  She ignored Vance's sarcastic remark, instead smiling brightly as she signed the photo, specially adding "To the adorable Elian," along with a little heart.

  After Camilla left, the young man looked at the inscription on the photo, feeling both amused and exasperated.

  He turned to Vance and said sincerely, "Boss, thank you."

  "Don't mention it."

  Vance stared at the heart-adorned photo, his lips tightening and then relaxing, as if restraining something. In the end, he couldn't hold back, asking in a seemingly casual tone, "Is your way of admiring athletes to fall for every single one you meet?"

  "What?"

  Elian looked up, confused, almost thinking he had misheard. Why was there a hint of... displeasure in Mr. Heaton's tone?

  "Never mind." Vance swiftly ended the topic.

  The boss initially seemed ready to leave directly, but upon seeing the glass in the young man's hand, he frowned slightly and said,

  "When did you start drinking this?"

  "Just... now? I saw many people holding it." Elian looked down at the whiskey in his hand.

  "Many people?" Vance snorted lightly. "Don't drink such strong liquor. It would be very unbecoming if you lost your composure at an event like this."

  Elian stared blankly at his glass. "I've actually only had one—"

  "You should know your alcohol tolerance isn't good." Vance interrupted him.

  As he turned to leave, he casually took away the glass of whiskey that originally belonged to Elian.

  Elian watched his retreating back, utterly baffled, pondering why Vance was angry. That inexplicably cold tone was definitely not his imagination.

  Besides, he didn't remember ever getting drunk in front of Vance?

  Vance Heaton wasn't unaware that admiration for strength was inherent to athletes.

  But he still couldn't suppress the inexplicable irritation rising within him.

  Since taking over the enterprise, his emotions hadn't been stirred so easily for a long time.

  Yet, whenever he saw that young man surrounded by crowds, flashing that utterly unguarded smile at the women, an indescribable restlessness surged from the depths of his heart.

  That person would ultimately walk towards a future he could never reach.

  Perhaps getting married to someone more suitable for him, having a family, with children as adorable as he was in his youth.

  Maybe a son, or a daughter—but that wasn't important.

  Because such a future should not, and absolutely would not, include him.

  He vaguely sensed that Elian might hold a certain allure for women, while he himself could only silently observe and suppress his own emotions in such social settings.

  This was also his own doing. He was acutely aware of what he would face if he ever let his feelings show.

  He thought of his gloomy and vile father, feeling increasingly that he wasn't much different. Always resorting to any means necessary to grasp what he desired, even if his hands were stained with blood.

  And precisely because of this, the only thing he could do was maintain a safe distance from Elian as much as possible, while he still could restrain himself.

  The party continued, with soft lighting and champagne bubbles rising slowly in glasses amidst the bustle of conversation. Elian was just about to head towards the dessert area when a familiar voice stopped him.

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  "Hmm? Isn't this tonight's most dazzling rising star?" Dylan sidled up, his tone flippant, but his eyes holding a burning intensity.

  Elian was startled by his suddenly close face, instinctively taking half a step back.

  "Don't get so close."

  Dylan, however, had no intention of retreating. He leaned in closer, as if about to kiss him.

  "Don't be nervous. I just want to confirm something."

  "Confirm what?"

  "If you're even more beautiful than you look on the broadcast screen."

  Elian nearly choked on his own saliva, his face flushing as he dodged to the side. "Have you been watching too many adult films?"

  Dylan laughed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright, I won't tease you. But, I must say—did you know during the match broadcast, there was a pair of eyes fixed on you the entire time?"

  Elian raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

  "Who else? Your dear Boss Heaton." Dylan said in a tone of revealing a secret, a knowing smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "That gaze... like a starving wolf that hasn't eaten for three days."

  Elian rolled his eyes. "I'm his contracted rider. Of course he'd watch me closely, afraid I'd make a mistake during the match."

  "Is that so? You defending him like this..."

  "We've known each other since we were kids. If he really were a wolf, I'd have been devoured long ago."

  Hearing this, Dylan raised an eyebrow, his tone suddenly softening. "Known each other since childhood, huh... That makes even more sense then."

  "Makes sense for what?"

  "I understand him better than you do. Our families have been locked in business battles for years. Behind that face of his hides a whole old fox. Do you think he signed you just because he sees promise in your equestrian future?"

  "If not, then why?" In truth, this question had lingered in Elian's mind for a long time.

  "Because he wants to sleep with you."

  "Yeah, right."

  Elian's mouth twitched. This answer clearly held no reference value. If Vance was an old fox, he thought Dylan's personality matched a fox better, along with his hair color.

  "Just wait and see." Dylan revealed an inscrutable smile.

  "Do you have any proof?"

  "Intuition."

  "Do you think everyone is like you, seeing someone and immediately thinking about how to get them into bed?" Elian sighed.

  "Oh? Did Vance Heaton say that about me?"

  "I heard about your notorious reputation back in high school." Elian said exasperatedly.

  Dylan shrugged, not denying it.

  "But wake up. He doesn't want you appearing in places like this, you know why?" Dylan continued.

  "He's the one who told me to come." Elian frowned.

  "But he wants to keep you locked in his own world." Dylan whispered. "Like collecting a piece of art, monopolizing, admiring... yet having to pretend to be magnanimous enough to set you free, because he knows all too well that once he exposes his desire, it would frighten you."

  Elian stared at him for a moment, finally saying only, "Have you really been obsessed with some kind of B-movie lately? Has it messed with your head?"

  The young man couldn't help thinking to himself:

  What's going on? Both of them telling me to be wary of the other?

  "Let's not talk about Heaton." Dylan set down his champagne glass and leaned close to him again. "The people at this party are all talking about boring stuff—investments, bloodlines, sponsorships, limited editions. You're suffocating, aren't you?"

  "It's... tolerable." Elian gave a strained laugh, but didn't deny it.

  "Don't pretend." Dylan lowered his voice. "I know a much more fun place. Want to go together?"

  "Where to?"

  Dylan didn't answer, merely curling his lips into a smile. He grabbed Elian's wrist and deftly pulled him out of the party crowd.

  "Hey, I didn't agree to—"

  "You'll thank me, little guy."

  The glass door of the upscale venue closed behind them. The grand crystal chandelier was swallowed by the night, replaced by neon lights and the flow of traffic.

  Soon, a taxi stopped under the night sky. The driver rolled down the window and asked, "Where to?"

  Dylan mysteriously gave an address. The car door closed, and the vehicle drove into the hazy, alluring lights of the night.

  "Where exactly are we going?"

  "The Jungle Club."

  Elian raised an eyebrow. He had never heard of it.

  "There, desire is the only law. Put on a mask, choose to be the hunter or the prey. "Dylan gazed out the window, reciting the club's slogan.

  "What?"

  "Life isn't just about the equestrian grounds. Let me broaden your horizons tonight." Dylan turned back and winked at him.

  Elian leaned against the seatback as lights and shadows flashed by outside the window.

  They arrived at a building that seemed like an ordinary upscale structure, its exterior extremely low-key and inconspicuous.

  It was hidden within the bustling city center, like a secret base surrounded by other buildings. Only when they wound into the building's central courtyard did they discover the real entrance.

  "The Jungle Club has lounges all over the US—actually, all over the world." Dylan explained.

  "But I've never heard of it."

  "That's because, little guy, you haven't been incorporated into the food chain yet." Dylan said with a laugh.

  The young man felt only a chill down his spine.

  The surface of the marble door was carved with intricate vine patterns, the leaf veins hinting at a primitive sense, like the secret vitality of a jungle.

  As the door opened, the first thing they felt was the strong scent of alcohol permeating the air, mixed with faint cigarette smoke. The music had a deep and stimulating rhythm, carrying a subtle, enticing sense of seduction.

  On the ground level, blurred lights cast streaks of shadows between sofas, tables, and the bar counter. Frosted glass partitions surrounded the entire area, separating the guests from the lower level.

  The figures of the crowd below only became briefly visible when the strobe lights flashed. The scene of decadent revelry, literally "pools of wine and forests of meat" was somewhat dazzling to Elian, with the flickering lights and heavy bass music intertwining.

  "The music is actually not bad." Elian said.

  "What's truly astonishing isn't just the music."

  Dylan turned sideways, and the scene below was laid out before them.

  Here, everyone was concealing their true identities. Their faces were hidden behind various animal masks, carved with bizarre totems, like a hunting ground for primal desires.

  Elian frowned slightly, a sense of unease rising in his heart.

  "Come with me." Dylan said.

  Dylan's steps were steady, almost as if he were familiar with everything here. Within this maze-like venue, he headed towards the counter without hesitation.

  "Welcome to the Jungle Club." The man at the counter said. He too was covered by a mask, seemingly with a finch pattern.

  "Finch" glanced at them, then immediately produced a deep red mask.

  The mask had a metallic sheen, as if bursting forth from burning flames. It was carved with extremely intricate fox patterns, vaguely indicating Dylan's identity.

  "My codename is 'Crimson Fox'." Dylan put on the mask, flashing an ambiguous smile at Elian.

  "A cunning old fox indeed." Elian remarked.

  "Alright, now choose your codename. That's the first rule of entering the Jungle."