"Tư…" Đông Anh called out, knocking on the door impatiently.
"Coming," she answered, pushing the door open. One look at her little brother—shirt buttoned all the way up to the neck and she scoffed. "Heavens, you're dressed like that just to stroll around the city?!"
Đông Anh glanced down at his clothes, as if trying to figure out what was wrong with them, then cast a sideways look at Dung—quiet, observant—and without a word, he simply followed his sister as she marched down the stairs.
"What's wrong with my outfit? Where are we even going?" Đông Anh asked.
"To—" Ms. Tư paused, casting a quick look at Dung, who was sauntering behind them.
"You'll see soon enough," Dung cut in smoothly. "I'm taking you two to the most entertaining joint in all of Saigon." He winked at Ms. Tư.
"You'd better not disappoint our little brother," she shot back, then marched straight out the front door.
"You're coming too?" Đông Anh asked.
"I've been granted the honor of being your humble chauffeur," Dung said with a grin.
As Đông Anh descended the stairs, he seemed lost in thought.
"Hold up, sir," Dung called after him. "You should—"
He gestured toward Đông Anh's chest, making the boy freeze in place. There was a beat of awkward silence between them before Dung stepped forward and reached for his collar. Đông Anh flinched instantly, swatting Dung's hand away and stumbling backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. Luckily, Dung caught him just in time.
"Careful there!" Dung said. "I was just trying to help with your shirt."
He paused just long enough for Đông Anh to meet his gaze. There was no mischief this time, only a calm steadiness, almost sincere. Then he spoke again.
"You dress like that for a stroll in town, and people'll laugh their heads off."
Without waiting for a reply, Dung reached over and began unfastening the top two buttons of Đông Anh's shirt, while the boy remained frozen in place. When the crisp fabric parted, revealing the clean lines of Đông Anh's collarbones, Dung stepped back with a satisfied smile.
"Perfect. Let's hit the road, sir."
.
"Welcome to Liberty—the most luxurious nightclub in all of Saigon, sir."
Dung opened the car door with a flourish, bowing slightly as he invited Đông Anh to step out. Only after that did he swing open the back door for Ms. Tư.
"This the fun place you were talkin' about?" she hissed through her teeth.
"Indeed," Dung replied smoothly. "I mean, what better place to indulge and decay than this? And more importantly—it's private, safe. If anything happens, we can clean it up real quick."
He threw a glance at Đông Anh, who was too busy staring up at the neon signs blinking overhead.
"Why are we here?" Đông Anh asked.
"This club belongs to your father," Dung said. "Might as well take a look. Who knows, you could end up inheriting it someday."
"You're kidding," Đông Anh said.
"Just go in, will you? Ain't like it's gonna kill you," Ms. Tư snapped, then strutted toward the entrance.
Dung chuckled and gently draped an arm over Đông Anh's shoulder.
"Folks just drink, chat, listen to music in here. Nothing goes too far. But if you ever feels adventurous… well, I can make arrangements."
The nightclub's interior was sealed tight, bathed in a warm golden glow. Here and there, colored lights blinked gently, just enough to keep the place from feeling too dull, but never gaudy.
The three members of Mr. Liễu's family were seated at a VIP table, center stage. A waiter rushed over the moment they sat down.
"Care for a light cocktail, sir?" Dung asked, sliding in beside Đông Anh. Across from them, Ms. Tư crossed her legs, already bored.
"No, I don't drink alcohol," Đông Anh replied, turning to Dung, unaware of the crooked smirk forming on his sister's lips.
"It's barely anything, I promise. You've gotta trust me on this one,"
Dung reassured him, then whispered a quick order to the waiter. When he turned back, he noticed the discomfort on Đông Anh's face. The boy sat stiffly, refusing to lean back into the sofa. His eyes kept circling the room, wary. The soft moans of laughter, the lazy bodies draped over velvet chairs, everything seemed to jab at the quiet dignity Đông Anh was struggling to maintain.
Dung gave a quiet smile and shook his head, then got up. He stepped up to the standing mic at center stage and leaned in.
"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to steal a moment of your time."
Heads turned toward the stage.
"Tonight, here at Liberty, I have the honor of introducing two very special guests. The children of Mr. Liễu, the man behind this very club."
Dung gestured toward the VIP table.
"That radiant lady over there—yes, the one some of you gentlemen have been eyeing all night—is Ms. Tư, daughter of Mr. Liễu himself. And the fine young man beside her, with that bright, well-mannered face? That's Mr. Út—his father's pride and joy."
Murmurs rose. All eyes drifted toward Đông Anh.
"Some of you may have heard the name," Dung continued, "but it's rare to meet him in the flesh. So please, raise your glasses and join me in welcoming him here tonight. One… two… three!"
The drummer hit a celebratory roll. Glasses lifted across the room, all to toast the Liễu siblings seated at the VIP table.
"Thank you, thank you, everyone!"
Dung bowed to the left, then the right, playing it up like a seasoned emcee. Then he added, with a wink:
"And ladies—if any of you find yourselves curious about Mr. Út, don't be shy. Tonight might be your only chance to say hello."
A wave of cheers and applause rose from the female guests.
"Now, let's hear something lively from the band to mark this special night," Dung said. "And don't forget—later on, we've got a set of love songs from Phượng Hoàng, live."
The moment Dung stepped down, the electric guitar struck a sharp opening chord, sending a jolt of energy rippling through the club.
Dung returned to the VIP table. Drinks had arrived, just in time for a few neighboring guests to come over and greet the children of Mr. Liễu.
"Loosen up a little, sir," Dung murmured close to Đông Anh's ear. "No one's judging you here. And this, this is just fermented fruit juice. Even if you finish the whole thing, you won't get drunk… unless you want to."
Noticing a few young women approaching their table, Dung shot Đông Anh a quick wink before slipping away.
The night was now in full swing. The club buzzed with energy as more and more guests flowed in. Behind the curtains, the band for tonight's Phượng Hoàng love ballads had arrived and begun setting up. Everything was ticking along like clockwork: Girls would try to fall gracefully into the arms of wealthy patrons; Men hoping to win over beautiful women would pretend to be generous gentlemen. The system worked perfectly—except for Đông Anh, who still sat stiff as stone, surrounded by a growing circle of ladies. He couldn't even shift in his seat without looking painfully self-conscious.
From a distance, Dung sighed and took a slow sip of his drink, eyes never leaving the boy. "The little lamb's still keeping his tail hidden, huh?" he muttered under his breath. Suddenly, a server approached.
"There's a lady asking for you, sir."
Dung turned to look. A girl in a sky-blue dress stood near the bar, her hands fidgeting nervously. "I've seen her before," he thought, setting down his glass.
From the corner of his eye, Dung saw Đông Anh getting up and heading toward the restroom, but his attention had already locked onto the girl. He walked over, convinced she was the same one who had approached him the day of the church bombing.
"What do you want?" he asked, firm but low.
"Sorry to bother you," she said quietly. "I came to… ask for a job…"
"A job?" Dung let out a dry, annoyed sigh. "And why the hell are you asking me?"
"It's… the kind of work that… you do."
His eyes narrowed. He gave her a slow once-over, then stepped closer and lifted her chin with two fingers.
"And what kind of work do you think I do, sweetheart?"
Her eyes flooded with fear and confusion.
"Speak up!" Dung's fingers dug into her jaw. "Say it!"
"You… recruit girls…" she whispered, eyes cast downward.
"Who told you that?" He let go of her chin. "You've got no filter. With a mouth like that, you won't get anything done."
"I... I'm sorry," she stammered. "I'm desperate. I don't know what else to do. I need this job."
"Go apply for a nanny gig instead," Dung muttered. "You'd be better off."
"I'm begging you…" she grabbed his wrist. "I need money. A lot of money, for..."
"Who's this?"
A sharp, cutting voice sliced through the moment. Ms. Tư had arrived, her eyes locked on the girl's hand gripping Dung's sleeve.
"She came here asking for a job," Dung replied.
"A job?" Ms. Tư scoffed, tossing her chin. "Listen here, don't think just anyone can walk in and whore themselves out at this place. You need to be top shelf: pretty, sharp, and classy. Not some dirty little nothing like you."
"Please, Ms. Tư, I'm begging you…" the girl pleaded.
"Get your hands off me. You want to be in this line of work? Then learn to read the room. Know which men you can bait, and which ones you should steer the hell away from. Otherwise, one day someone's gonna slash your face wide open."
She turned to Dung, jabbing a finger in his face.
"Don't you dare take her in. Try anything and you'll have me to answer to."
Dung raised both hands in mock innocence.
"My hands, dear lady, haven't so much as twitched."
She rolled her eyes, gave him one last glare, and stormed off.
"You heard her. Best be on your way," Dung said to the girl.
"No, please, I'm begging you!"
She dropped to her knees, clutching his hand, drawing glances from nearby guests.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" Dung hissed, keeping one eye on Ms. Tư.
"Get up. Now."
He tried to pull her up, but she wouldn't budge, still clinging to him.
"Please, I'm on my knees. I've hit rock bottom.
"Shut your mouth!" Dung snapped, yanking her upright and dragging her toward the restroom. Once there, he scanned the area to make sure no one was watching. The girl was still sobbing, still pleading.
"Cut that shit out," Dung said coldly. "You keep this up and she'll skin you alive."
"Let her! I don't care what she does as long as you help me. Just this once!"
"Look," Dung said, hands on hips. "Ms. Tư runs this place. If she says no, then who the hell am I to override her?"
"But I know… if you wanted to, you could make it happen."
"Oh? So now you know me that well?" Dung scoffed.
"If you won't help, no one else can. And besides… I'm still a virgin. I figure that's gotta be worth something, right?"
"Lady, your virginity's worth a handful of change these days. Girls like you are lined up around the block."
"Please, Mr. Dung, my mother's sick, really sick. If I don't get her to the hospital, she'll die. And my little brother, too…"
"Enough!" Dung's voice turned flat. "Everyone's got a sob story. But don't dump yours on someone else and expect them to fix it. I've heard this tune more times than I can count."
The girl broke down in sobs, collapsed to the floor, her hands still clutching the hem of his trousers.
"Let go, now!" Dung snapped, brushing her hand off.
Suddenly, someone stepped in and gently helped the girl to her feet.
"Miss… if he doesn't want to help you, stop begging him." The voice was soft, yet steady. "Here, take this! It's not much, but it might help you get through the day."
"Sir, don't go handing out money like that," Dung warned Đông Anh.
The girl, stunned, stared through tears at the young man who had lifted her up.
"Forget about him," Đông Anh said. "Take the money and get out of here."
"You're too kind… how could I ever repay you…?"
"That little wad should be enough to cover your virginity," Dung sneered.
"Don't say things like that!" Đông Anh snapped. He turned to the girl, voice calmer. "Don't misunderstand me. That's not what I meant. Just take the money and go take care of your mother. May God bless you and your family."
He gave her a gentle smile before walking away but not without shooting Dung a look full of quiet contempt.
Dung chuckled bitterly, eyes still on the girl.
"So? That enough to cover your purity?"
Dung scoffed, then added with a crooked grin: "If not, I can help. Guess I'm in the mood to play the good guy tonight."
He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and held them out.
"Here's your shot. A chance to prove what you're good for. You want it?"
The girl stared at the keys for a long moment, then, slowly, reached out and took them.
Dung stepped back into the nightclub. By now, the Phượng Hoàng band was on stage, playing their soft love songs. The romantic melodies mellowed the room, casting a hush over the earlier clamor.
He glanced toward the VIP table but Đông Anh was gone. Scanning the room, Dung didn't have to search long. The place wasn't that big. He soon spotted Đông Anh, standing alone in a quiet corner.
"What are you doing over here all by yourself, sir?"
Đông Anh looked at him without much warmth, probably still hadn't forgiven him for how he'd handled that girl.
"Feeling uncomfortable?" Dung asked gently. "If this place doesn't suit you, step outside for some air. I'll check if Ms. Tư's ready to call it a night."
Đông Anh hesitated for a moment, then turned and quietly made his way out.
Behind him, Dung's mouth curled into a faint smirk. He threw a quick glance toward the restroom, then headed back to sit with Ms. Tư.
"Where's my little brother gone?" Ms. Tư asked.
"Stepped out for a bit of fun," Dung replied.
"So you've finally caught his tail?"
"Almost..." Dung said lazily, taking a slow sip of his drink.
"Well, let's see what kind of bait Mr. Dung has in that trap."
Ms. Tư grinned and sank deeper into the velvet seat, her eyes already drifting toward the lead singer of the Phượng Hoàng band.
"Dung, what's with the sleepy love songs tonight? This isn't that kind of club!"
"Well… look around you," Dung chuckled, motioning at the surrounding tables.
"You know why the crowd's packed tonight? It's 'cause this band has something that really pleases the ladies."
He followed her gaze to the singer.
"You like him too, don't you?"
"He's not bad. Has a bit of that Elvis Presley look."
"Looks like we've got our own Elvis... Nam."
"Nam?"
"Yeah—he's Viet-Nam through and through. Homegrown, no imports."
Ms. Tư burst into laughter, eyes now locked on the stage. Seeing her entertained, Dung relaxed. At least she wouldn't be bothering him for a while.
Dung leaned back into his seat, eyes half-lidded, letting the familiar voice of Phượng Hoàng's lead singer pour over him. The song was one of their most beloved ballads, and quietly, it had always been his favorite.
"I love you because I loathe sadness.
I love you because I reject resentment.
I love you because I spit on lies."
Flirtatious smiles, theatrical postures, all drifted past Dung's eyes, like living illustrations for the song now echoing in the room.
I love you because I've had it with people.
I love you because I've had it with life.
I love you because I stopped believing in God.
A flashy man had arrived at the table with drinks for Ms. Tư. She smiled, flirted back, all grace and glamour. Dung sat there, eyes fixed on the two of them—not jealous, not angry, just drifting, like someone halfway between waking and a dream he no longer trusted.
"I don't fall for long dark hair.
I don't chase after pretty eyes.
And I don't live for the world's praise or pity."
Ms. Tư's red lips shimmered before his eyes. Then, without warning, other red lips surfaced, faces he'd long stopped counting. They twirled through his mind, loud and painted, just like they always had.
"I love you because I loathe sadness…"
Dung mouthed the lyrics without realizing, like they had been stitched into his breath.
"I don't need anyone to understand me
when I speak of love,
when I walk with you through the quiet of poetry."
"Sir, Mr. Út just left," a server said, cutting through the fog of Dung's drunken daze.
"Did he call a car?"
"No, sir. He walked."
Dung frowned, mind flashing back to the moment Đông Anh shoved money into the girl's hands. "Don't tell me he emptied his pockets for her?" he thought.
He glanced toward Ms. Tư, still caught up in her drunken flirtations and social games.
"Call her a car when she's done. Someone we trust. Don't screw it up."
Without another word, he slipped away from the table and drove off, his polished Peugeot slicing into the Saigon night.