The next morning, Dung sat slumped in a chair, nursing a bitter cup of coffee in the hotel's breakfast lounge. His stomach twisted and turned, scolding him for the abysmal treatment it had received. Dung hadn't eaten anything decent since the night before, only washed everything down with liquor.
"If world ever got out that Dung the pimp died from a bleeding ulcer?" he thought bitterly. "What a joke. A guy like me should go out with a bang—gunshot, explosion, maybe a good old-fashioned gang hit. Not a goddamn stomach disease."
With that thought, Dung straightened up and took a deep breath, trying to soak in the scent of food drifting through the lounge. But nothing—no smell could jolt his withered soul awake. He leaned back again, defeated.
Time passed. The dining room emptied out. Only one moody-looking young man remained, glued to his now-empty coffee cup. Someone yanked the chair beside him with a loud scrape and plopped down.
"Hey!"
Dung flinched when he recognized the sharp, grating voice beside him. He turned to look, but didn't bother to say a word.
"So that's how it is, huh?" said Ms. Tư, voice dripping with vinegar. "Spend the night with that little prince and suddenly nobody else exists, huh?"
She scowled at the weary look Dung gave her—as if he couldn't even be bothered to argue.
"What, cat got your tongue now?"
"You're the one who said you'd never speak to me again, remember?"
"Well…" She crossed her arms and pouted. "So where is he, anyway?"
"Who?"
"The little prince you followed into his room last night."
Dung gave a dry smirk. "Ain't like someone as lowly as me gets to share a room with royalty."
Her eyes lit up. "So you didn't go in? You didn't stay with him? Then... where'd you sleep?"
"In some dusty little corner that suits my station just fine."
"Then—" She leaned in, hopeful. "Come stay in my room tonight."
Dung didn't answer. Instead, he stood up.
"Hey! Where you think you're goin'? We're not done talkin'!"
"To grab you some breakfast," he muttered. "They're about to close the buffet."
Ms. Tư grinned, satisfied. If nothing else, that meant they'd made up—at least for now.
After a light breakfast, Dung and Ms. Tư went out for a stroll along the beach. She was clearly thrilled about flaunting her brand-new bikini, while Dung—ever the hustler—scanned the area with a sharp eye, sniffing out any potential business.
"Hey, don't I look just like one of those movie starlets?"
Ms. Tư struck a pose right in front of Dung. Her smooth, glistening skin might've turned heads elsewhere, but all she got from Dung was a polite, half-hearted smile.
"Oh look, Út's finally up," she chirped.
At that, Dung instinctively turned around. And just like that, his eyes landed on the boy who'd been haunting his heart since last night. A faint bitterness stirred inside him.
"Rough night? You look like hell," Ms. Tư teased. "Come sit with us—it's scorching out here."
As soon as Đông Anh dropped into the beach chair across from Dung, Ms. Tư snuggled up against the man beside her, looping her arm through Dung.
"You eaten yet, Út?" she asked sweetly.
Đông Anh shook his head, eyes full of contempt.
"Serves you right for waking up late," she quipped. "Just hang out here for a bit. We'll grab lunch later."
She rested her chin on Dung's shoulder. And Dung, in turn, casually wrapped an arm around her waist. Only Đông Anh looked visibly disturbed by the scene—his face twisting with every little affectionate gesture the pair shared.
"Quit makin' that face," Ms. Tư said. "You asked to come on this trip, so enjoy yourself. Stop poking your nose into other people's business."
"Let's hit the water," Dung cut in. "I wanna see how deadly that bikini really is."
"You flirt," she giggled, giving his cheek a playful squeeze. "Come on!"
"You go ahead. I'll take this shirt off and catch up."
With a smug glance at her brother, Ms. Tư swayed off toward the waves. Dung, meanwhile, fixed his eyes on Đông Anh.
"You see that? She's the one who came onto me first."
As he spoke, Dung began undoing the buttons of his shirt. One by one, the fabric peeled away, reveal a taut, wiry frame. He leaned in, just inches from Đông Anh's ear, and whispered:
"Just say it. Tell me why you're really mad, and I swear—I'll do whatever you want, sir"
Dung didn't wait for an answer. He walked off.
Right in front of Đông Anh, Dung didn't hold back—he pulled Mis. Tư into his arms, hugged her close, and let out a loud, shameless laugh. He took wicked pleasure in it, knowing there was a jealous pair of eyes watching him. And that look—stronger than any touch or tease—sparked something wild and uncontrollable inside him.
.
"Where's that little prince?" Ms. Tư asked, having slipped into a nice dress for lunch.
Dung took the seat across from her and shook his head.
"Doesn't look like he's come back yet. I knocked a few times—no answer."
Ms. Tư shrugged. "Then let's just eat."
She waved a hand to call over the waiter.
As she ordered, Dung simply nodded at whatever she picked, but his gaze kept drifting elsewhere—toward the rippling sea outside. Somewhere in that restless water, he could still feel Đông Anh's jealous eyes burning into him.
After lunch, Ms. Tư went back to her room for a nap.
Dung, on the other hand, stretched out on one of the shaded lounge chairs by the hotel pool. He claimed it was for bikini-watching, but in truth, this spot gave him a clear view of the lobby—where every guest had to pass through.
The stillness of early afternoon slowly dragged his eyelids down. In that hazy dream-state, Dung thought he saw Đông Anh's figure flitting through the crowd. He gave chase, but no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't catch up. So Dung kept calling, breathless:
"Út… Út!"
"Út!"
Dung said it out loud and jolted awake. His heart pounded. His thoughts spun, like he'd really just run a race. Something didn't sit right. He checked his watch. 4 p.m.
"He should be back by now," Dung muttered, then hurried to Đông Anh's room.
Dung knocked. No answer. He knocked harder.
"Sir? You in there?"
Still nothing.
He rattled the handle, anxiety creeping in.
"Sir! If you're back already, just let me know, alright?!"
Silence.
That restlessness inside his chest kicked up like mad. Dung rushed down to the front desk, demanding to know where Đông Anh had gone. The clerk just shook their head. Still no sign of him.
"Damn it! Do you rent out motorbikes here?"
Five minutes later, Dung was tearing through the streets on a rented motorbike, circling the neighborhoods near the hotel.
"Where the hell did you go, Út…" he muttered, eyes scanning both sides of the road. "This ain't Saigon. You can't just disappear like that."
This was Dung third time looping around the same intersection. His watch read 5 p.m. And the sunlight was fading fast.