Chapter 61: Chapter 61

Mo Cheng’s responding text message read simply I worked at a host club and nothing else. Needless to say, Sun Fang’s curiosity only reached a higher peak. He texted back a crude doing what before he lost the courage, despairing afterward about how rude it was. But it had already been sent and so he could only lie in bed and refuse to emerge for a solid hour in order to properly convey his emotional state.

Ivy walked around the room and pulled up the covers to his chin, vacuuming the floor without even doing him the dignity of acknowledging his obvious dramatics. Sun Fang sighed, pushing his face deeper into the pillow and vividly regretted everything. 

”Do you wish to eat lunch in bed, Young Master?” Ivy asked when it was done vacuuming and dusting every visible surface. 

Sun Fang rolled onto his back and sighed deeply. ”No, I’ll get up,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Sulking, he wondered if Mo Cheng had seen his text yet, if he’d been annoyed at the rudeness. They weren’t probably on very good terms right now, so the rudeness was even more inexcusable. Who knew if this would make Mo Cheng decide to cut off all contact with him, after all. Maybe it would be the last straw.

”If you say so, Young Master,” Ivy said. It left the bedroom without a backward glance and Sun Fang only pouted harder. Nothing happened though, and so he sat up on the bed and glumly pushed his feet over the edge. He swayed a little when he stood up, his legs feeling fining but he was still being dramatic. Sighing again, he brushed a hand through his now short hair—it still felt odd—and wondered off into the hallway. Despite Ivy’s considerate question, lunch wasn’t actually ready yet. There was no scent of delicious food drifting through the apartment.

Instead of eating, Sun Fang walked into the living room. There, he threw himself down onto the bed and sighed deeply again. He turned on the TV after a moment, finding the nothingness dull and boring.

”Are you cooking lunch?” Sun Fang called out to Ivy when the android passed through the living room, vacuuming. He pulled his legs up on the couch when Ivy went around it, the noise from the vacuum almost soundless. He had to strain his ears to hear, and it thankfully didn’t disturb his TV time at all. 

Ivy shook its head. ”I’m ordering from a restaurant that you like, Young Master,” it said, moving on to other parts of the living room. Sun Fang craned his neck over the couch to keep it within line of sight.

He smiled, ”Okay, thank you.” Ivy didn’t react, simply continuing its efforts to clean every accessible part of the apartment. Sun Fang went back to focusing on the low budget TV movie airing. If nothing else, the acting was so bad that it was actually funny, though he had a sneaking suspicion that this was supposed to be a horror movie. Most of the suspicion came from the fact that the movie’s title was The Night of Horror at the Lonely Mansion. 

So far, despite the fact they were already a good thirty minutes into a two hour movie, they still hadn’t arrived at the titular mansion. Sun Fang was starting to think that maybe they never would.

The phone dinged as a notification arrived. Sun Fang’s eyes widened and he threw himself onto the coffee table, grabbing the phone with a greedy fist. Clicking it on, he licked his lips when he saw the new message from Mo Cheng.

He opened it. The message was I was a host. 

”A host…” Sun Fang muttered, beginning to smile. Mo Cheng as a host—he really couldn’t picture it. Mo Cheng was so low-presence, and he was a beta. Not to be prejudiced, but it was a fact that most people went to host clubs for the express purpose of meeting betas and omegas, who were far less rare than most people realized. It came from the fact that omegas and alphas had done really, really well when it came to adjusting to life in space and on foreign planets, and had kind of… thrived.

Movies and such still liked to portray the omega as the rare beauty only found when fate allowed it, but the truth was that it wasn’t anything special. The latest count put the empire’s omega population at a solid thirty percent. Alphas were slightly below at about twenty-five percent. And the rest were betas, a nice forty-five percent. And yeah, betas were still the majority, but it wasn’t to such an overwhelming degree as most people just assumed.

But there was still a general expectation of how omegas and alphas should behave, and host clubs prided themselves on meeting those expectations. And as such, they were incredibly popular. That Mo Cheng, a beta, had worked at one thus struck him as a little strange. That he’d made enough money to (presumably) afford his café meant that he must have been really, really good at it.

Licking his lips again, Sun Fang typed out a simple question. Do you have pictures?

Then he dropped his phone and pressed his hands over his face, groaning. Less then a minute later, there was another notification. Sun Fang urgently unlocked his phone and came face to face with an old picture of Mo Cheng. In it, his black hair was slicked back, his eyes lined with kohl, his ears full of dozens of earrings, his body clad in a sinfully tight suit. He looked dangerous. 

KJXTCXKDNSBZXC Sun Fang thoughtfully sent back, any other reaction beyond him. He was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating for a second there, his chest almost painful from how tight it was. He fanned himself with his hand as he laid the phone down and resumed watching the movie. It took mountains of will to not look at the picture again.

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