I fell silent at Elara's words.
Memories surfaced one after another.
The first time we met—when she had shown me a strange kind of mercy after I promised to quit that business, only for me to be caught again not long after, delivering another package.
Then the second time. When she had told me not to show my face at one of her establishments—yet we still ended up meeting, of all places, in the bathroom of one of her bars.
Elara always had a very good and valid reason for everything she had done. But what about me?
Trust, after all, was built either through actions or through a reputation of one's quality. And what kind of reputation did I have? The only thing she truly knew about me was that I sold drugs.
That wasn't exactly something that inspired trust.
"I swear on my soul." I said with every ounce of sincerity I have left.
There was nothing in my name. So I could only sweat in myself.
A soft chuckle came from the other end of the line, startling me. It was an unusual sound for someone like Elara to make.
For a moment, I found myself wishing I could see her face. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't imagine what expression she wore when she laughed like that.
"Never mind. If you don't have money, you can only pay with your body, right?"
A chill ran straight down my spine.
The image of that pig-like man rose up instantly, sharp and unwanted. My heart slammed hard against my ribs, unease twisting through me.
But my eyes widened even more when a laugh came from her side.
"Do you like drinking?"
***
Elara was seated inside her office, speaking with Lyra over the phone. Even after the call ended and she set the receiver down, a faint smile lingered on her lips.
A man stood nearby, quietly observing her. He was her right hand man, someone who had been by her side for a long time.
"Are you starting a charity, boss?"
Elara was not the kind of woman who smiled easily. On rare occasions, she smiled to maintain appearances.
This, however, was different. The smile she wore now was natural.
"Hm? Charity, you say?" she replied, her brows drawing together even as the smile lingered.
"Let's just say," Elara continued, her voice steady, "that as an adult, I am merely guiding a young lamb back onto the right path."
The man offered a small smile, careful not to let his true thoughts show.
To him, Elara Holloway was the sort of person who would skin a lost lamb long before its owner had the chance to reclaim it. She was a rare talent, discovered by her adoptive family, yet she had carved her own path instead of living in his shadow.
"Isn't she the one who spoiled your shoes last time, boss?"
That girl was the one reckless enough to sell drugs in his boss club and step into her casino. And it hadn't been just any drug, but Cross, the infamous omega inducer. It forced the body into an omega like heat, making it dangerously desirable.
As a synthetic drug, it carried severe side effects, enough to nearly kill one of his boss VIP clients. Meticulous as ever, she had immediately tracked down the kid responsible.
Instead of killing her, as anyone who knew Elara might have expected, she let the girl go.
The girl had been young, far too naïve to grasp the world she was in. But that had not been the reason Elara spared her. It had been nothing more than luck.
And yet, what did she do with it? She showed up in another club not long after, and had the audacity to lie to his boss face.
The man had thought her luck would run dry that day. But once again, Elara had done nothing more than confiscate her ID.
And then came the third time. Even when the girl had vomited all over her shoes, Elara hadn't punished her. She had even gone so far as to give the girl her number.
At that point, the man could only settle on one possible explanation…
"Do you like that girl, boss?"
Elara looked at him but didn't answer for a while, and then with a firm "no," she answered him.
"Then it seems like you are being too nice to her." Elara's expression shifted, the look on her face quietly demanding to know why he thought such a thing.
Then she crossed her long legs and glanced at the ID on her table. The photo of the ID showed Lyra's younger self when she still had baby fat on her cheeks, and her red hair was unkempt, falling over her eyes.
"Maybe it's time for her to grow up. I can't have her running around my establishment." She paused as she noticed a mole under Lyra's eye in the photo, which she wasn't able to notice when she was with her.
"Maybe it is just as you said. Charity doesn't seem like a bad thing." She lifted her long index finger and tapped the photo, as though aiming for the tiny mole on the girl's face. But with the picture being so small, her finger ended up covering half of it. Unbeknownst to the man, Elara was already thinking of doing the very same thing in person the next time she met her.
The man, still wondering about his boss's unusual behavior toward that girl, caught sight of her eyes. They were sparkling—an expression so rare on Elara's face that it startled him. The sight tugged at his memory until he finally realized where he had seen that look before.
They were the same eyes his young nephew had whenever he discovered a new toy.
In that instant, his earlier assumptions crumbled. He had been wrong about his boss growing soft or sentimental toward the girl. No, what he now understood was far simpler—Elara Holloway had merely found herself a new plaything to ease her boredom.