Eclipse was a pulsing jewel in the heart of Dubai Marina, a cathedral of neon and excess that drew the city's elite like moths to a flame. The club's exterior gleamed with mirrored panels, reflecting the yacht-dotted waters and the city's skyline in a dizzying kaleidoscope of light. Inside, the air thrummed with a bass-heavy K-pop remix, the kind that made your bones vibrate. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured rainbows across the dance floor, where bodies swayed under strobing LEDs. Velvet ropes cordoned off the VIP section, perched on a mezzanine overlooking the chaos, its plush booths draped in gold and black. Waiters in tailored uniforms glided through the crowd, balancing trays of glowing cocktails, while a celebrity DJ spun tracks from a platform shaped like a crescent moon. Eclipse wasn't just a club—it was a world where money bought invincibility, and Kim Soyeon ruled supreme.
Soyeon strutted through the entrance, her sequined silver mini-dress catching every light, turning heads with every step. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded in loose waves, and her oversized sunglasses—worn despite the midnight hour—screamed untouchable. Flanked by Lee Jisu and their crew, she moved with the confidence of someone who owned the room. Jisu, in a neon pink dress that screamed defiance, nudged her. "Told you this place was epic," she said, grinning. "Ready to make tonight legendary?"
"Born ready," Soyeon replied, her voice dripping with mischief. She scanned the crowd, her eyes landing on Kang Taehyun, leaning against the bar with his trademark smirk. The hotel heir was a vision in a black leather jacket, his blonde hair catching the neon glow. He raised a glass to her, and Soyeon's lips curved into a playful smile. Time to have some fun.
She sauntered over, her heels clicking against the polished floor. "Taehyun," she purred, leaning against the bar. "Fancy seeing you here. Chasing me again?"
Taehyun's eyes sparkled with challenge. "Soyeon, you know I can't resist a good chase. Especially when the prize is you." He slid a martini toward her, the glass rimmed with edible gold. "On me. Let's see if you can keep up."
Soyeon laughed, tossing her hair. "Keep up? Sweetie, I set the pace." She clinked her glass against his, downing the drink in one go, the burn of vodka mixing with the thrill of his attention. Taehyun was fun—dangerously so—but she wasn't here to fall for him. She was here to play. Within minutes, they were on the dance floor, Taehyun's hands grazing her waist as they moved to the beat. Soyeon spun away, teasing, her laughter echoing over the music. She caught Jisu's eye, who gave her a thumbs-up from the sidelines. This was her element—freedom, flirtation, and no consequences.
The DJ's voice boomed over the speakers, cutting through the music. "Big shoutout to Park Minho, our birthday boy tonight! All drinks are on his brother's tab, so let's make it a night to remember!" The crowd cheered, and Soyeon's ears perked up. Park Minho? The name didn't ring a bell, but free drinks were her kind of party. She grabbed Jisu's arm. "Let's find this birthday boy and thank him properly."
Jisu led the way to the VIP section, where a group of twenty-somethings lounged around a booth. At the center was Park Minho, his messy brown hair and infectious grin making him impossible to miss. He was surrounded by friends, a bottle of champagne in hand, his earbuds dangling around his neck like a badge of youth. Soyeon approached, her confidence unshakable. "Park Minho?" she said, flashing her brightest smile. "Happy birthday! Thanks for the free drinks—you're officially my hero tonight."
Minho's eyes widened, clearly starstruck. "Whoa, you're Kim Soyeon, right? The Instagram queen? Thanks for coming over!" He gestured to the booth. "Join us! My brother's footing the bill, so go wild."
Soyeon slid into the booth, Jisu beside her. "Your brother must be loaded," she teased, grabbing a flute of champagne. "Where is he, anyway? I owe him a toast."
Minho laughed, scratching his neck. "Oh, Jungwoo? He's around here somewhere, probably brooding in a corner. He's not big on clubs, but I dragged him out. You'd like him, though—he's got this whole mysterious CEO vibe. Total opposite of you, Soyeon, no offense."
"None taken," Soyeon said, smirking. "Sounds boring, though. I like guys with a little more… spark." She winked at Minho, who blushed, clearly out of his depth. Jisu stifled a laugh, sipping her drink.
Nearby, Park Jungwoo stood against a railing, nursing a glass of whiskey he hadn't touched. The club's chaos grated on him—the noise, the lights, the ostentatious displays of wealth. He'd only come for Minho, who'd begged him to celebrate his twenty-third birthday. Jungwoo's tailored blazer felt out of place among the club's flashy crowd, but his sharp features and quiet intensity drew curious glances. He overheard Minho's conversation, catching Soyeon's name. Kim Soyeon. He'd heard of her—Dubai's spoiled heiress, a walking headline. Her comment about "boring" guys stung, though he didn't know why. He didn't care for her type—reckless, superficial, everything he'd worked to rise above.
Soyeon, meanwhile, was on her third—or was it fourth?—cocktail. The alcohol buzzed through her veins, loosening her already shaky inhibitions. She leaned closer to Minho, giggling. "So, tell me about this brother of yours. Is he as fun as you?"
Minho snorted. "Jungwoo? Fun? He's more like a robot in a suit. But he's the best, seriously. Built his company from nothing, takes care of our parents back in Seoul. You should meet him, Soyeon. He'd probably hate your vibe, but it'd be hilarious to watch."
Soyeon pouted, feigning offense. "Hate my vibe? Rude! I'm a delight." She stood, swaying slightly, and grabbed another drink from a passing waiter. "I'm gonna find this grumpy brother of yours and prove him wrong."
Jisu grabbed her arm. "Soyeon, maybe slow down? You're already wobbling."
"I'm fine!" Soyeon declared, her words slurring. She stumbled toward the VIP room at the back, a private suite reserved for the club's top spenders. Mistaking it for a restroom, she pushed open the door, only to find Jungwoo inside, seated on a leather couch, checking his phone. The room was quieter, the music muffled, and his presence filled the space like a storm cloud.
"Well, hello," Soyeon said, her voice loud and unsteady. She leaned against the doorframe, her dress sparkling under the dim lights. "You must be the boring brother. Minho warned me about you."
Jungwoo looked up, his expression unreadable. "And you must be Kim Soyeon," he said, his tone clipped. "This is a private room. You're lost."
"Lost?" Soyeon giggled, stumbling forward. "I'm never lost. I'm the life of the party!" She tripped over her own heels, catching herself on the arm of the couch. "Oops. Okay, maybe a little lost. But you—" She pointed at him, her finger wobbling. "You need to loosen up. Why so serious? It's a club, not a funeral."
Jungwoo's jaw tightened. "Maybe some of us have better things to do than get drunk and make a scene."
Soyeon gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. "Rude! I'm not making a scene, I'm… enhancing the ambiance." She hiccuped, then laughed, collapsing onto the couch beside him. "Come on, Mr. CEO. Have a drink with me. Live a little."
"I don't drink with strangers," Jungwoo said, standing to leave. "You should go back to your friends."
Soyeon grabbed his sleeve, her grip surprisingly strong. "No way, you're not escaping that easily. Tell me, what's your deal? Minho says you're some big-shot businessman, but you look like you hate fun. Is that true? Do you hate fun?"
Jungwoo sighed, prying her hand off. "I don't hate fun. I just don't see the point in… this." He gestured vaguely at her, the club, the chaos.
Soyeon's eyes narrowed, then widened as a wave of nausea hit her. "Oh no," she mumbled, her face paling. Before Jungwoo could react, she lurched forward, vomiting onto his pristine blazer. The stench hit instantly, and Jungwoo froze, his expression a mix of horror and disgust.
"Oh my God," Soyeon slurred, swaying. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean—wow, your jacket's ruined." She giggled, then hiccuped, her head lolling back. Before Jungwoo could respond, her eyes fluttered shut, and she passed out, slumping against the couch.
Jungwoo stared at her, his jaw clenched so tight it might crack. "Unbelievable," he muttered. He glanced at his blazer, now a casualty of Soyeon's recklessness, and resisted the urge to fling it across the room. Instead, he scooped her up, her limp form surprisingly light, and carried her to the private suite's attached bathroom. He needed to get her out of here—and himself cleaned up—before this night got any worse.
In the bathroom, Jungwoo set Soyeon gently on the floor, propping her against the wall. He shed his ruined blazer, tossing it into a corner, and rolled up his sleeves. The sink was his salvation, and he scrubbed his hands and arms vigorously, eyes squeezed shut as if he could block out the absurdity of the situation. "Of all the nights," he muttered, splashing water on his face. "Why did I let Minho talk me into this?"
Soyeon mumbled something incoherent, her head tilting to one side. Jungwoo sighed, grabbing a towel to wipe her face, careful not to look too closely at her smudged makeup or the way her dress had ridden up. She was a mess, but even in her drunken state, there was something disarming about her—a vulnerability he hadn't expected. He shook his head, banishing the thought. She was trouble, plain and simple.
With no other options, Jungwoo carried her to the suite's bedroom, a sleek space with a king-sized bed draped in black silk. He laid her down, pulling a blanket over her, and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. The couch in the corner would have to do for him. He grabbed a spare shirt from his bag—always prepared, even for disasters like this—and changed quickly, tossing his soiled clothes into a laundry bin. Settling onto the couch, he glared at the ceiling. "Damn this night," he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. He closed his eyes, praying for a few hours of peace.
---
The morning sun filtered through the suite's floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks across the room. Soyeon stirred, her head pounding like a drum. She blinked, her vision blurry, and froze as her eyes met Jungwoo's. He was sprawled on the couch, still asleep, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his usually sharp features softened in repose. Her gaze drifted down, realizing their bodies were closer than she'd expected—her legs tangled in the blanket, inches from where he lay.
Her heart raced, a mix of confusion and panic. What the hell happened last night?
To be continued…