Girl, you know the vibe when the sun goes down,
High heels clickin' while we run this town.
Lipstick stains on my collar like a prize,
Whisperin' sweet sins with those bedroom eyes.
They chase fast, but I love the thrill,
Left, right, curves—yeah, they got that skill.
Can't catch , baby, better step up your ga,
But by sunrise, you'll be screamin' my na.
Hugo slumped into the club, his expression so openly miserable that it sohow made him look even more attractive.
The irony was almost painful.
Despite the obvious storm cloud hovering over his head, most of the girls in the club were still stealing glances at him, their eyes gleaming with interest.
So were outright gawking, whispering to their friends, probably trying to figure out if he was so brooding celebrity on a night off.
But Hugo? He was so deep inside his own head that their attention barely registered.
His mind was still trapped in an endless loop of the utterly soul-crushing, reality-shattering rejection he had just suffered.
The barista—the barista!—had ghosted him in the most brutal fashion. She hadn't even given him the dignity of a slow fade-out.
No vague excuses, no polite disinterest—just pure, rciless avoidance. It was as if he had sohow beco invisible to her overnight!
Was this what it felt like to be rejected?
Hugo blinked as the thought truly settled in, an unfamiliar sensation creeping over him. Weird. This feels…weird.
When was the last ti this happened? He scratched his jaw as he ntally scrolled through his history.
The last ti sothing similar to this happened was a month ago, when he just got the system and was attempting to flirt at the freshman party.
Although that was rely a month ago, he had already locked it away in the back if his mind and gotten used to his current smoothness.
aning he was not used to this.
This was a reality check for him, but still, she had been too cold!
For a second, he almost admired the sheer skill it took to reject him with such efficiency. A lesser person would have at least wavered a little, but no, she had cut him off with the precision of a master surgeon.
Damn. Maybe she should be training assassins instead of making coffee!
But then, Hugo shook himself out of it, rolling his shoulders back. No. He wasn't about to let this one L ruin his night.
Fate must have wanted here tonight for a reason.
He would put his trust in the lady of luck one more ti!
With that thought, he strode further into the club, forcing himself to absorb the atmosphere.
The place was buzzing, neon lights flickering against polished floors, the air thick with bass-heavy music and the sll of expensive liquor.
People were dancing, laughing, draped over each other in the kind of reckless abandon that only a weekend club night could bring.
Hugo scanned the room, debating his next move. Should he approach a group of girls? Maybe slide into a fun-looking friend group and work his magic?
He tapped his fingers against his chin, considering.
And then, he saw her.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
'No way. This kind of coincidence actually exists?'
This was almost just like what happened the last month!
His mind went into overdrive, gears spinning at an unhealthy speed. Wait, wait, wait. This… this was an opportunity!
'A golden, once-in-a-lifeti, universe-given opportunity. If I play my cards right… maybe, just maybe…'
He inhaled deeply, gathering every ounce of his considerable confidence, and sauntered toward her.
"Hey," he said smoothly, his voice carrying just the right balance of casual coolness and familiarity.
The girl turned slightly, and yep—there was no doubt.
Jessica.
Aka, the girl he had almost completed the last death mission with… if it weren't for her beautiful bestie and roommate.
Hugo had to resist the urge to pump his fist in the air. This was perfect. Out of all the clubs, in all the city, they just happened to cross paths here tonight?
Oh yeah, the universe was trying to right its earlier mistake. Clearly, that whole barista rejection was just a temporary glitch in the system.
He was about to make his move, maybe drop a sly complint about her outfit or casually ntion their last insane mission together when—
Another voice cut in.
"Did I make you wait too long?"
Hugo froze. His brain short-circuited. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this.
Because standing there, right next to Jessica, was a guy who looked like he had stepped straight out of a "How to Be a Playboy" instruction manual.
Tall, handso, effortlessly stylish—the kind of guy who walked into a club and got VIP treatnt without even asking.
He was a worthy opponent!
Jessica's entire attention imdiately shifted to the new arrival. Again, he was ignored!
Hugo couldn't believe it. They both completely ignored him again!
Like, not even a glance in his direction. As if he had been erased from existence. As if he had been Thanos-snapped out of the conversation.
Hugo stood there, stunned, as Jessica and the playboy casually turned away and walked off, deep in conversation.
What… what just happened?
He blinked. Once. Twice. His mouth opened, then closed.
"Did I just get ignored?"
The sheer disrespect of it hit him all at once.
"This day is cursed," he muttered, staring blankly at the air in front of him. "The universe actually wants to fail this mission."
He could already hear the gods of fate laughing at him from above.
Still in mild shock, he turned around in slow motion and made his way to the bar, plopping himself down onto a stool with the weight of a man who had just experienced a spiritual defeat.
He barely even noticed the bartender sliding a nu in front of him before he waved it off and ordered sothing strong.
His thoughts turned bleak as he swirled the drink in his hand.
Was this it? Was this how it all ended for Hugo? First, the barista ghosts him. Now, Jessica doesn't even acknowledge his existence?
How was it possible to take two massive Ls in one night?
It was like a dream! No, a nightmare!
He stared at his reflection in the glass. Am I losing my touch? Is this what aging feels like?
Just as he was about to sink into a full-blown existential crisis, a light tap landed on his shoulder.
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