PTT - 16

The man towering over them by at least a head forced the two women to naturally tilt their chins upward. Raon stared at the unwelcome intruder, making no effort to hide her irritation at having their private conversation interrupted. 

With one eyebrow raised, she responded coldly. 

“…What do you want?” 

“Do you not speak English? If you’re here without a guy, why don’t you come to our room and hang out with us?” 

“I know English. Are you two here alone?” 

Mabel, who was to take the lead and guide the operation, smoothly interjected with a bright, charming smile. She deliberately masked her usually fluent, native-like pronunciation, replying in broken English with surprising audacity. The man who had approached them spoke with a heavy Russian accent, as expected. 

“No, there’s one more guy in the room. He’s probably… entertaining another girl right now, if you know what I mean.” 

The man curled his fingers into a circular motion, mimicking a crude gesture, then bobbed his head up and down to imitate a lewd act. His vulgar joke and snickering were utterly ridiculous, but Mabel widened her eyes and laughed along instead. 

“That sounds fun. We want to drink too. Take us with you.” 

“What do you think, Yakov? Are these girls worth kicking out?” 

“If we turn away girls like this, we’d have to be out of our minds.” 

The man named Yakov smirked, his sharp features exaggerating even the slightest movement of his facial muscles, making his expressions seem dramatic. 

“What are you guys talking about? Speak so I can understand. Okay?” 

Mabel pouted playfully, feigning frustration at their Russian conversation. Though she fully understood their exchange, revealing her knowledge of Russian would only complicate things unnecessarily. 

“Cute. Come this way.” 

Pleased with Mabel’s enthusiastic response, the men gestured for them to follow with a nod of their heads. 

As they headed toward the VIP room on the top floor, the men continued chatting incessantly in Russian. Most of it consisted of crude and vulgar banter that was unpleasant to hear. 

Though his presence wasn’t obvious, Rock was surely tailing them closely. After walking for about five minutes, the Russians stopped in front of a VIP room door located deep within the hallway. 

Unlike the other rooms, which were partially open to overlook the stage, this one was completely sealed off to prevent outsiders from entering. 

Yakov pulled open the thick door, signaling for them to enter. At that moment, a woman in a short dress walked out, giggling softly. 

She passed by too quickly for Raon to get a clear look at her face, but the smudged red lipstick on her lips left an indelible impression. 

“Whoa, Sung-won. Did you have some fun while we were gone?” 

“Not really. She wasn’t that interesting. Who are these girls?” 

“They were hanging around near the stage. They’re the best-looking ones there—sexy.” 

Upon entering the room, a U-shaped sofa caught their attention. On the long glass table in front of it lay scattered bottles of alcohol, ashtrays, cigarette packs, and decks of cards. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Raon subtly lifted her head. Sitting close by was their main target: Cheon Sung-won. 

‘Why is he here…?’ 

His appearance hadn’t been part of the operation plan. Raon exchanged a quick glance with Mabel, silently communicating her unease. 

They had known that Cheon Sung-won had returned from Russia today, but they hadn’t anticipated him heading straight to the club without even resting from jet lag. 

Failing to track the target beforehand was a clear oversight. Raon could easily imagine Ray back at headquarters tearing his hair out in frustration. 

It would be a lie to say they weren’t startled by the unexpected development, but they were professionals. Mabel hid her surprise perfectly, letting out a soft giggle. 

“Where should I sit?”

“Sit here. Oh, what’s your name?” 

“I’m Hye-yeon. That one over there is Minseo. She’s been nagging to go home since earlier because it’s her first time at a club. And you’re Yakov…?” 

“Ilya. That Korean guy over there is Sung-won. He’s probably not your type, though. So, why don’t you hang out with us instead?” 

Mabel, now seated between the two Russian men, pulled a pack of cigarettes from her clutch. Placing one between her lips, Ilya lit it for her using a Zippo lighter from the table. 

“Thanks. So, when did you guys come to Korea? Are you here on vacation?” 

“Not a vacation. We’ve been living here for a few years. My dad’s in business…” 

As Mabel seamlessly blended into the atmosphere, Raon deliberately let out an audible sigh and crossed her legs as she sat next to Cheon Sung-won. Since things had already unfolded this way, it seemed better to approach him more deeply. 

However, Raon made no attempt to initiate conversation with Sung-won. Instead, she fiddled with a burner phone they had prepared beforehand, feigning boredom. 

Of course, all of this was part of the plan. 

“...” 

For thirty minutes, Raon didn’t utter a single word. Similarly, Sung-won showed little interest and didn’t engage her either. 

The situation was unfolding quite differently from their planned scenario. Just as Raon was considering changing tactics, Sung-won finally spoke up. 

“You look bored. Your friend over there seems to be having fun, but you’re not enjoying yourself?” 

While the other three were clearly intoxicated and reveling in the moment, the woman sitting before him remained completely still and expressionless. 

Typically, someone seated next to Sung-won would react in one of two ways: either fawning over him to win his favor or trembling nervously due to unfamiliarity with the situation. 

But this woman? Not only was she calm, but she also exuded indifference. Her unwavering demeanor throughout the past half-hour irritated him while simultaneously piquing his curiosity. 

“Yeah.” 

Her response was curt—a single syllable. With that concise reply, Raon fell silent again. Sung-won narrowed his eyes slightly and scanned her face from top to bottom, his gaze tracing a slow, deliberate line downward. 

The texture of her hair, cascading just above her chest, looked soft—so much so that he could almost feel its smoothness without touching it. 

Against her pale complexion, reminiscent of obsidian, the dim lighting cast subtle shadows. The bridge of her nose stood out as the only straight feature on her otherwise gently curved face. 

‘Not entirely straight, though.’ 

For thirty minutes, those lips hadn’t curved even once—they remained a rigid horizontal line. A mischievous desire to twist that unyielding mouth into something else began to rise within him. 

He picked up an ice cube from the ice bucket and dropped it into a glass with a clink. The perfectly angular hexagonal ice emitted a clear sound as it hit the glass. 

Tilting the bottle, he poured amber liquid into the glass until it nearly overflowed, the ice cubes bobbing lightly on the surface. After filling it precariously close to the brim, he glanced at Raon briefly. 

“How long do you plan to act so arrogantly? Once you know who I am, keeping that attitude might get difficult.” 

“We’ll see.” 

Raon’s cold, disinterested reply came naturally as she reached for the glass in front of him. Without hesitation, she drank from it as if it were hers. 

True to its character as a peated whiskey, the rich smoky aroma tickled her nose. Wetting her oral mucosa with the strong liquor, she tilted her head slightly and met his gaze. 

“Who you are won’t make much difference. You’ll still be unremarkable.” 

“Hah... This girl’s really something else.” 

Caught off guard by her unexpected retort, Sung-won momentarily closed his mouth before bursting into laughter. His friends, who had been raising their glasses, along with Mabel, turned their attention toward him. 

Sung-won laughed heartily, covering his eyes with one hand as if amused beyond measure. 

“Sung-won! What’s so funny? What did that beauty say to you?” 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s pretty enough, and you’re totally smitten. You’ve always liked women who act aloof rather than easygoing. That mafia boss’s daughter was icy too, wasn’t she? Your taste never changes.” 

The Russians burst into snickers as they downed shots of vodka. Mabel, seated among them, pretended to pout playfully, adding exaggerated clumsiness to her drunken act.

“Are you guys going to keep speaking Russian? You’re not excluding me, are you?” 

“No way, pretty girl. We were just debating how eccentric Sung-won’s tastes are.” 

“Oh my, really? How perverted are we talking? Worse than you guys?” 

No matter what the three of them babbled about, Cheon Sung-won’s gaze remained fixed solely on Raon. He had always been drawn to women who didn’t cower in his presence—those who were bold, even bordering on aloof. 

“Looks like someone who’s used to seducing rich men. Guess that’s true if you’re acting this way with me too.” 

“Men...” 

Raon set down the phone she had been idly fiddling with, raising one eyebrow slightly. Her expression was a subtle mix of contempt, mockery, and boredom—all intertwined into something faintly unsettling. 

Though she didn’t consider herself particularly skilled at acting, Raon was far more talented at it than she gave herself credit for. 

“No. Is money the only thing you have to offer?” 

Her gaze naturally dropped downward—precisely toward the area below his belt, at the front of his pants. The faint sneer that tugged at the corner of her lips caused a flicker of humiliation to cross Sung-won’s face. The unspoken implication of her unfinished sentence was crystal clear. 

“Damn it, you’ve got some nerve…” 

Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of Raon’s long hair with brute force. Her dark locks crumpled in his grip, strands spilling between his fingers.