Reijo wa mattari wo goshomo

Autumn chill hung heavy in the air as Taylor Swift stood under the flickering neon lights, gazing up at the grand entrance of NightHarbor. The most extravagant nightclub in Golden City, it was a den of indulgence and temptation, a place she never imagined herself visiting. Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. It was her sister, Lily Collins, calling to wish her a happy 20th birthday and inviting her to a private room on the second floor of NightHarbor.

With a heart warmed by her sisters unexpected kindness, Taylor stepped inside, only to find the room eerily silent and devoid of the people she expected to meet. The air was thick with the scent of鐑熼厭, and a group of stern men in black suits turned their piercing gazes towards her. At the center, a man, who hadnt even bothered to lift his head, closed a black leather case and set it aside.

"NightHarbor is not a place where you can come and go as you please," he said, his voice sending a chill down her spine.

Panicking, Taylor lied, invoking the name of Edward Cullen, a man whose reputation alone was enough to command respect and fear throughout Golden City. The room fell into an icy silence, until the man at the center finally spoke, "Do you know Edward Cullen?"

Heart pounding, Taylor produced a sapphire cufflink she had found days earlier, a piece that undoubtedly belonged to Edward. The mans demeanor changed instantly, and with a simple nod, he acknowledged the authority that name carried.

From the shadows of the bar, a figure emerged, dressed in a simple white shirt that contrasted sharply with the luxurious atmosphere. His approach was unhurried, each step deliberate, as if he owned the night itself. His eyes, dark and fathomless, held a mocking glint as he assessed her.

"Is that so?" he questioned, his voice a deep melody that sent shivers down her spine.

Taylor, caught in his gaze, felt a surge of fear mixed with an inexplicable connection. He offered her a choice: leave with the menacing men or drink to make amends and leave with him. Without waiting for her response, he turned to leave, assuming her compliance.

Outside, the cold night wind blew, and under its caress, Taylors sobriety returned. She pleaded to go home, but Edwards grip tightened, reminding her that he was her rescuer. He deposited her unceremoniously into a car and drove off, leaving the neon lights of NightHarbor behind.

The ghost-like Koenigsegg sped through the night, Taylors muffled pleas for freedom going unheard. Edwards fingers tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel, lost in thought, until he abruptly stopped the car in front of the Lister Hotel. There, he claimed that she owed him for her rescue, and without further ado, he guided her into the hotel, leaving her with no choice but to follow.