Ryan Grant didn’t answer, his gaze sliding past her hand. Then, in a calm voice, he said, “I’m the owner of this bar.”

Evan Carter’s hand froze in midair, her reaction a bit slow.

For a moment, she wasn’t quite sure.

Was he introducing himself with that statement;

Or was he showing off how well he was doing now, already successful and a boss at such a young age.

In this situation, she still found herself distracted, her mind wandering to what Samuel Clark had said.

—“The owner of this bar is basically the top card of Degenerate Street.”

She couldn’t help but glance at his face a few more times.

Jet-black hair and thick brows, his pupils pure black, appearing even colder in this light.

The rebelliousness of his youth had faded, his once immature features now sharp and defined. Tall and lean, dressed all in black, yet his arrogance and wildness were undiminished—unrestrained and distinguished.

To call him the top card—

It really wasn’t an exaggeration.

Ryan Grant slowly uttered two more words, pulling her back to reality.

“Sang. That’s my surname.”

“……”

Was he telling her his last name?

So, he didn’t recognize her, just introducing himself.

Evan Carter understood the situation and said calmly, “Is there something you need?”

“I apologize. Because of our mistake, we’ve caused you trouble and inconvenience,” Ryan Grant said. “If you need anything, just let me know. Also, all your expenses tonight are on the house. I hope this won’t affect your mood.”

He kept addressing her formally, but Evan Carter didn’t hear any real respect in his tone.

He still spoke the way he used to. His words sounded perfunctory, lazy, cold, and a bit provoking.

Evan Carter shook her head, politely saying, “No need. It’s fine.”

As soon as she said this, Ryan Grant’s expression relaxed, as if relieved. Maybe he thought she was easy to talk to, because his tone softened a bit as he nodded, “Then I’ll excuse myself.”

With that, he looked away and started to walk out.

Evan Carter was still holding his jacket, and she called out instinctively, “Sang—”

Ryan Grant turned back.

Meeting his gaze, she suddenly realized they were strangers now, and the word “Yan” got stuck in her throat.

Her mind blanked, and Evan Carter didn’t know how to address him.

The atmosphere was awkwardly silent. In her panic, her mind filled with what she’d just been thinking about, and two words surfaced. Staring at his face, she blurted out, a beat late, “—Top card.”

“……”

Their eyes met.

The world fell silent again.

In this nearly frozen moment, Evan Carter seemed to see a barely noticeable twitch between his brows.

“……”

Huh?

What did she just say?

Sang Top Card.

Sang, Top, Card.

Oh.

Sang…

Shit.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

Sang Top Card ahhhhhhh!!!

“……”

Evan Carter stopped breathing, barely able to keep her expression steady. She didn’t dare look at Ryan Grant’s face, pressed her lips together, and handed him his jacket again: “Your jacket.”

The best way to handle this was to do what she always did—pretend nothing was wrong, as if nothing had happened.

Just skip over this little episode.

But Ryan Grant didn’t give her the chance.

He turned his head, slowly repeating, “Sang, Top, Card?”

Evan Carter pretended not to understand: “What?”

A moment of silence.

Ryan Grant looked at her, a bit surprised, as if he’d just realized something. He drew out an “ah,” the corners of his lips curving up, looking as if to say “I knew it”: “Sorry, this is a proper bar.”

“……”

The implication was clear.

I know I’m good-looking, but I’ve never considered that kind of service, so please, have some self-respect.

Evan Carter wanted to explain, but realized there was no way to make it clear.

She let out a silent sigh, too lazy to struggle. They wouldn’t see each other again anyway, so she just went with it and said regretfully, “Really? That’s a shame.”

“……”

Ryan Grant’s expression seemed to freeze for a moment.

But maybe it was just her imagination.

Evan Carter blinked, and saw that his face was as calm as ever, unchanged. She didn’t think much of it, gave a polite smile, and brought it up again: “Your jacket.”

Ryan Grant still showed no intention of taking it.

For the next ten seconds or so, Evan Carter noticed, oddly, that he was staring at the curve of her lips, his gaze direct and thoughtful.

He just stopped there—

“Wearing my jacket,” Ryan Grant paused, then suddenly smiled, “isn’t it pretty nice?”

“……”

Evan Carter: ?

“Though I’m not sure, but I think I’m more famous than this bar?” He raised an eyebrow mischievously, sounding like he was giving her an out, “Take it as a souvenir.”

“……”

-

“He really said that?” Samuel Clark confirmed again, then burst out laughing, “Damn, why didn’t he just tell you to frame it and hang it up?”

Evan Carter said slowly, “That’s exactly what he meant.”