• Love For Rent •JC

Chapter 09 • Bills.

Third Person
Omniscient Pov:

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The gala had finally come to an end. The last guests drifted out in a slow, elegant procession, their soft laughter and light chatter fading into the night. Seungcheol, ever the gracious host, was pulled aside for a final round of handshakes, his smile as practiced and perfect as always. Jeonghan, however, was more than ready for the evening to end. He stepped outside, the cool, late-night air washing over him in sharp contrast to the stifling warmth inside.

He paused for a moment, taking a long, steadying breath as the night settled around him. The chaos of the gala still echoed in his mind: the clinking of glasses, the murmurs of polite conversation, the endless parade of introductions. When Hae-in had first approached him with the idea, he had imagined a few formalities, perhaps a few polite exchanges, and then he could go home.

What he hadn't expected was hours of being glued to Seungcheol's side, forced to smile and nod through a constant onslaught of social niceties. Every moment had felt like an act, a performance with no intermission. His muscles ached from the strain of keeping up appearances, from the pressure of remaining composed despite the growing exhaustion gnawing at his core.

He would have gone straight home, but earlier in the evening, Hae-in's assistant had handed him a key to a room nearby. He had been instructed to stay close, in case he was needed first thing in the morning. It wasn't as though he had any other choice. The assistant had mentioned that Hae-in had arranged for a room at a modest hotel just around the corner from the gala venue, a practical choice given the timing. Still, Jeonghan couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than convenience. Perhaps it was another way to keep him "on hand" for the next step of Hae-in's plans.

He had never stayed in a hotel before-not even a cheap one. This one, while modest, was clean and respectable, far more refined than anything he had ever known. The room, simple and minimalist, was the antithesis of the luxury he had just witnessed. The plain white walls and soft lighting gave the room a sterile, almost impersonal feel, as though it had been designed for a transient guest rather than someone meant to linger. The bed, a queen-sized piece of furniture, sat in the center of the room, flanked by two modest nightstands, each holding a brass lamp. A small window overlooked the city, offering a sliver of the busy streets below. Despite its comfort, everything about the room screamed practicality, nothing more.

Jeonghan stood there for a moment, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The dissonance between the world he had just left and this temporary refuge felt jarring. Just hours ago, he had been in the midst of the city's wealthiest and most influential individuals. He had shared a table with billionaires, been swept into their conversations, smiled politely, nodded at the right times. It had all felt so distant, like a world he didn't belong to, but one he was expected to perform in. Now, he was alone in a room that felt like it was borrowed, a place that wasn't truly his. The weight of the evening pressed against him, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was an outsider, playing a role in a story that wasn't his own.

He freshened up quickly, washing away the traces of the evening-both the physical and emotional fatigue-and collapsed onto the bed. The soft, cool sheets did little to ease the tension coiling in his body. He stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought, the contrast between his current surroundings and his reality too sharp to ignore. He had only just stepped out of a world of glitzy extravagance, yet here he was, lying in a hotel room paid for by strangers, in a life that didn't belong to him. His mind drifted back to his family-his grandmother, younger sister Yeeun, and older brother Minhyun-wondering how they were faring back home.