As soon as Sophie Smith walked into the private room, she felt something strange in the atmosphere.
She hesitated at the doorway, using the dim light to take about three seconds to digest the situation before her.
There were around ten or so people in the room, men and women, very lively. From time to time, the sound of clinking glasses or unabashed moaning echoed in the spacious compartment, making Sophie's ears tingle with discomfort.
"Cough, cough..." Sophie seemed to have been choked by a cigar smoke, uncontrollably coughing a couple of times.
"You're Sophie Smith?" A middle-aged man with a beer belly sauntered over to her, leeringly sizing her up even in the dim light, making Sophie perceive his lewd expression.
"Yes, I'm Sophie Smith. Hello, Director Chapman." She answered respectfully and politely, feeling very uneasy inside for reasons unknown; the noisy environment was uncomfortable for someone accustomed to quiet.
Currently, she was a third-year student at Eastern Film Academy, performing actively in class and her acting skills garnering attention from the department chair. As such, the chair recommended her to a renowned domestic director, offering her a chance at her first significant role if the director was satisfied.
"Come and sit!" The man, whom Sophie referred to as Director Chapman, disregarded her struggle and resistance, dragging her toward the sofa. This made Sophie feel deeply repelled. Upon sitting down, a cup of crimson alcohol was shoved before her.
"Drink."
Sophie's tolerance was poor. Though she purposely trained herself to drink more, the effect wasn't significant. She took the drink, forced herself to down it in one go.
The alcohol was high proof, burning her throat intensely upon consumption.
"Drink again!"
"Director Chapman, I, I can't drink anymore," Sophie confessed truthfully, now feeling lightheaded and dizzy. If she continued drinking, how could she discuss the screenplay with him?
"Stop pretending, just drink!"
Helpless, Sophie accepted the glass.
She sat properly against the sofa, her eyes scanning the surroundings involuntarily. Her gaze landed on an obscure corner, and all of a sudden, she felt a chilling tremor. She could sense someone there, but due to the lighting, she couldn't see anything clearly.
Who exactly was sitting there? Despite the darkness, she could feel the icy aura emanating from him.
Sophie shook her head and pulled her gaze back, adhering to the idiom: "Minding one's own business without crossing lines." She reassured herself: Be good, don't think about, don't do anything, and avoid that person, there's nothing to be scared of.
In the dim corner, the man held a burning cigar between his slender fingers, lightly puffing smoke out.
Unlike the other men in the room, he had no women around him, simply sitting there quietly, smoking, drinking, and observing everything coldly in the room, naturally including Sophie's slightly frightened glances.
An evil hand suddenly slid past Sophie's back, tugging down the zipper of her dress.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sophie panicked, scrambling to cover her clothes to prevent them from slipping off.
"Just want to play with you, why so tense?" In a public setting, Sam Chapman shamelessly carried out his dirty deed, while the surrounding people watched as if for entertainment, causing her immense humiliation.
Sam kept pressing closer to her as she retreated backward continuously.
"Ah!" She accidentally tripped over the table corner and fell, but the expected pain didn't follow; she felt like she fell into a broad embrace.
She seemed to have found a lifeline, instinctively gripping the sleeve of the man beside her tightly. The man frowned with displeasure, flicking his hand, though failing to shake her off.
"You're trying to act virtuous while being a *****?!" Sam sneered coldly, grabbing Sophie's wrist, "Don't obstruct my esteemed guest, get over here!"
"No, let me go!"
Sam's fierce demeanor terrified Sophie, who never expected the respected and admired director publicly to be so vile privately.
Terror gripped her; her entire body trembled uncontrollably.
The man naturally sensed her fear; she was like a startled bird, any loud noise would make her lose her soul. "Want me to help you?" He benevolently offered, speaking softly so only they could hear.
Sophie was momentarily unresponsive, purely drawn by his voice—so nice with magnetic charm but also carrying an air of unapproachable unfamiliarity.
"Hmm!" A few seconds later, Sophie snapped out of her daze, nodding fervently. If anyone were willing to help her now, she'd be eternally grateful.
"Get over here!" Sam impatiently yelled, tugging her hand forcefully. Sitting in that corner was no ordinary person; the patron was here to discuss script investments. If this girl upset the big patron, consequences would be unimaginable.
"Are you yelling at me?" The man savored a sip of red wine, speaking slowly and unhurriedly.
"No, no, of course not..." Sam panicked, his words turning shaky. Even given a billion guts, he wouldn't dare, "You, you've misunderstood, I was speaking to the girl."
"Since you weren't, stop shouting in my direction." His voice remained consistently frigid, startling Sam who quickly released Sophie's wrist.
"Sorry, sorry..." Sam quickly retreated, hurriedly returning to his seat, looking discomfited.
Sophie internally breathed a sigh of relief; the man beside her was certainly remarkable, with a few simple words he had extinguished Sam's domineering flame. She steadied herself and calmed her emotions.
"Tha..." Her thanks remained unsaid when she again heard the man's cold voice.
"What's your name?"
"I'm Sophie Smith, Sophie like in color, and Smith like a promise." She said seriously.
"It's a good name."
Sophie felt something amiss, suddenly remembering she was still in his arms, which felt inappropriate, so she wanted to stand up, but the man's large hand grasped her slender waist.
"I just rescued you, what's this? Turning your back on me now?" His playful words accompanied a slender finger with a faint tobacco scent lightly brushing across her cheek.
"Sir, I, I didn't mean that," Sophie turned her head away in resistance, caught between a rock and a hard place, momentarily flustered, unsure how to react.
Momentarily embarrassed, she was about to protest when, unexpectedly, the man refrained from further presumptuous acts, instead zipping up the back of her dress.
"I saved you." The man's lips curved into a smile so enigmatic that no one noticed, "Remember to repay me."
Repay? How could she repay?
Stunned, Sophie heard unease in his tone. Nonetheless, she was in a place of chaos; she couldn't stay any longer.
"If we meet again someday, I, I will repay you, sir."
She tried desperately to free herself from his grip; this place was definitely not safe to linger.
Of course, he discerned her eagerness to escape, which displeased him slightly.
"Thinking of escape, possible?" His hoarse, mesmerizing voice sent her aflutter with fear.
.........