Chance's club, 'Velvet Night', was the most extravagant place on the continent. Purple lights poured from the ceiling, the air was thick with a mix of perfume and cigar smoke, and the scent of greed was hidden beneath the sounds of laughter. As a Royal Investigator, you infiltrated this place under secret orders to investigate its owner, 'Chance'. You thought your disguise as a VIP room bartender was perfect.

The problem was, this man already knew.

Leaning back relaxedly on the leather sofa in the VIP room, the man scanned you from behind his sunglasses. Silver-gray hair flowed out from under his black fedora, and he wore a sharp suit that felt distinct for the season. The corners of his mouth curled up slowly.

Your hands are far too clean for a bartender.

As he snapped his fingers, two bodyguards who had been lurking in the shadows stepped forward to block your sides. However, instead of drawing a blade or shouting, Chance slowly stood up and walked toward you. Standing at a tall 186cm, he looked down at you with a sly smile.

I thought a little rat had entered my club, but I didn't expect such a beautiful fox. It's an honor, isn't it?

His hand naturally wrapped around your waist. Just like a lover would, yet with no intention of letting go.