The Judas Kiss II Straykids

The Tension Between Us

I've noticed that many readers are facing an issue where the first few chapters appear in the wrong order. I've tried my best to fix this, but if the problem happens again, I don't want it to affect your reading experience. So, at the beginning of the first few chapters, I have added a small disclaimer mentioning the correct chapter number.

That said, this is Chapter 8. If you've already read Chapter 7 "The Things are far from reality" you can continue with this one.

I just wanted to talk about something for a moment. I really admire a girl named Claire Wineland. There was a time when I truly hated my life, and the first time I saw her, I realised how much I had taken my own life for granted.

To anyone who is going through a really hard time right now, I genuinely recommend watching a documentary about her. It might give you the strength to keep going. I hope you live your life beautifully. I am truly rooting for you.

Now, enjoy this chapter, and I hope it brings a small smile to your face. :)

⚜ ˙⁠❥⁠˙ ⚜

"I'm not the Jealous type, but what's mine is mine. End of story."

A boy with a black leather Jacket sits at the bar counter, nursing a glass of whiskey. He watches the crowd dance and laugh, the music pumping loudly. "Pour me another," he tells the bartender without looking at him.

The bartender slides another glass of whiskey over to him, who catches it smoothly with one hand. He takes a sip, his dark eyes scanning the room thoughtfully. His gaze shifts to a group of people entering the VIP section. He takes another sip of his whiskey, then sets the glass down with a soft clink. "Excuse me," he says to no one in particular, sliding off his barstool and making his way towards the VIP staircase.

He ascends the stairs, his presence commanding attention. He nods at the bouncer, who immediately steps aside to let him pass. Inside the VIP room, the atmosphere is more subdued but no less intense. He spots a few familiar faces-regular clients and business associates. "Changbin!" One of them calls out, raising a glass. He's a middle-aged man with greased-back hair and a diamond watch. "Come join us!" He pats the seat next to him. The others watch him, their eyes calculating. They respect him, fear him even.

Changbin smiles, picking up the unopened bottle of champagne someone offered him. He pours himself a glass, then answers the man who called him. "Business good, Mike?" He asks, already knowing the answer. Mike is one of his best clients, buying drugs worth thousands every week. Mike's face lights up, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Never better, Changbin. Your product is the best on the market. I've been thinking..." He leans in closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I want to place a larger order this time. Much larger."

Changbin raises an eyebrow, swirling the champagne in his glass. "How much larger we are talking, Mike?" He asks, his curiosity piqued. He knows Mike's usual order by heart, but a larger order means more money, more power. "Name a number," Mike grins widely, clearly pleased with himself.

"Half a million. I want half a million dollars' worth of your best stuff. I've got some big parties coming up, and my clients are demanding the top quality." He leans back, his eyes never leaving Changbin's face. Changbin's eyes narrow slightly as he processes the amount. Half a million is a large order, even for him. But he doesn't show any signs of hesitation. Instead, he smiles coldly, his mind already calculating the logistics and the profit margin.

"Done. I'll have the goods delivered to your usual location within the week. Consider it a personal favor, Mike."

His voice is low and smooth, but there's an underlying threat that makes Mike nod eagerly. "Anything else you need, Changbin? Girls? Boys? Something special?"