Atlas had only one plan: distract himself by watching all the fools in the world gather in one place. Judging people had always been a hobby he couldn’t get rid of. He planned to go to a nightclub and just watch people make mistakes they’d be embarrassed by for the rest of their lives.
The red-light district, however, was not in his plans. But with his limited knowledge of the city’s nightlife, he simply went to the most lively area at this hour. There were tons of nightclubs, with girls standing outside, calling out for his attention.
He ignored all of them and searched for a slightly decent place. Fortunately, he found one—a bar that didn’t seem to stand out from the rest.
Atlas idled at the bar counter, watching someone sing on a small stage while people enjoyed the music with their drinks. He eavesdropped on a few conversations, making him wonder why these people found such topics interesting.
He was able to distract himself for a while, but not with the conversations. He was distracting himself with the drink he had been chugging without realizing he’d had more than enough.
"I’m drunk," he whispered to himself, forcing his eyes open as the room started to spin.
Shaking his head, he pulled out a bill and slapped it on the counter. He didn’t even bother to stop as the bartender called after him about his change.
Atlas hurried out of the establishment, massaging his temple. On his way, he realized this was a terrible decision. His body was still inflamed, and the alcohol hadn’t helped calm him. If anything, he felt suffocated and intoxicated, yet hungry.
The "soup" he’d been served earlier that had started all of this was surely poison.
Making one mistake, or rather, failing at something, was one thing. Atlas didn’t want to make another by driving himself home when he knew he wasn’t capable. So, he quickly found a motel to spend the night.
Finding one was not hard, especially in an area like this.
A motel was not a place he would usually be seen. He had never been in one before and never planned to be. There were simply too many other options for him to sleep, but not tonight.
After finding a decent place to spend the night, Atlas locked himself in the shower for a long, cold one to lower his growing body heat. It helped... for a bit. Deep down, however, he knew it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to do; he just refused to do it, even for his own survival.
He stayed under the cold shower for as long as he could remember.
But then, walking out of the shower with only a towel clinging to his hips, he stopped.
"???" Deep lines appeared between his brows as he lifted his gaze to the bed.
There, someone was lying down.
Atlas glanced at the door; it was closed. Just to be sure, he approached it and checked the lock. It was still locked. He then walked back to the bed, eyeing the person sleeping on it.
"This is why motels aren’t for me," he whispered, approaching the bed and staring at the person as if she were some species that needed to be studied.
She was plump, and her colorful attire was enough to show her strange taste. He tilted his head to the side, poking what looked like her double chin.
It bounced.
"..." He blinked, about to walk away, when he noticed a tear rolling down the side of her face.
Her eyes slowly parted, revealing the tears that had been pooling underneath her eyelids. Her vision was blurry, and she was hiccupping from either crying or the drinks she’d had tonight. She stared at the face hovering over her, blinking her tears away.
Just as her vision cleared slightly, he spoke.
"Wrong room," he drawled. "Go away."
Yet, the woman bit her quivering lips as her eyes widened. To his surprise, she suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him down. Before he even knew what was happening, his back hit the soft mattress.
The bed made a slight creak as a weight pressed down on him.
"Why don’t you leave me alone?" She whimpered, sitting on his leg, her chubby hands on his bare chest. "And you even came topless this time!"
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