The dining room shimmered under a low golden chandelier, its light pooling like liquid fire across the polished mahogany table. Jason sat across from her, his posture perfect, aura calm, yet beneath the mask his heart beat like a quiet drum. He had faced men twice his size, repaired engines no one else dared to touch, survived a life of scraping through dust and hunger—but this felt different. He was sitting opposite a woman who looked as if she had been carved out of the very concept of luxury.
She leaned back in her chair with effortless grace, the silk of her gown catching the light. Her eyes lingered on him in a way that told him she was evaluating—not just his looks but the way he carried himself. Jason knew the game well. Pretend nothing is shaking you, even when everything inside you is.
The system flickered before him, an invisible glow only he could see.
[Status Scan: Subject—Mariana Veyra]
Likes: Confidence, wit, ambition, strong men who don't bend easily.
Dislikes: Flattery without substance, men who grovel, dishonesty.
Mood: Amused. Curiosity—80%. Attraction—61%.
Jason smirked inwardly. At least he had a compass guiding him through this battlefield.
"So," Mariana broke the silence, swirling her glass of wine, "you sit there looking like you've already mapped out the world. Do you always study people with such… stillness?"
Jason allowed a slow smile to tug at his lips. "Not people. Just the ones worth studying."
She tilted her head, half-impressed, half-curious. "And I'm worth the study?"
He leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with her. "I wouldn't be here if you weren't."
Her laugh was soft, genuine. The kind of laugh that made her bodyguards standing at the door exchange a quick glance—they didn't hear it often.
The conversation flowed from there like a game of chess. She tested him with sharp remarks; he parried with calm wit. And when she thought she had caught him off guard, he leaned back in his chair and smiled like a man who already knew the ending to a story.
At one point she asked, almost teasing, "Do you live alone, Jason?"
He shrugged, playful. "I live with responsibility."
"Oh?" she said, intrigued.
"My sister. Sophie. She's younger, stubborn as hell, thinks I don't notice when she steals my shirts, but she's everything."
The way he said it—low, steady, without shame—made Mariana pause. It wasn't weakness. It was loyalty, spoken with the kind of conviction money couldn't buy.
"Interesting," she said softly. "Most men would have tried to impress me by talking about what they own. You tell me about your sister instead."
Jason chuckled. "If I wanted to impress you, I'd have worn a crown on my head."
Mariana laughed—loud this time, unrestrained. Jason caught the faintest rise of pink in her cheeks. The system popped up again.
[Attraction +12%. Current: 73%]
Jason smirked at the number, though he kept his expression neutral.
Then she tilted her glass toward him. "Tell me, Jason, no girlfriend? No wife hiding somewhere? You're… too self-controlled around me. Makes me wonder."
Jason lifted his own glass, swirling the liquid. He let the silence linger just long enough to make her lean forward slightly, waiting. Finally, he said, "If I had either, do you think I'd be sitting here, drinking your wine, and matching your fire?"
Her laughter rang out again, musical this time. "God, you're dangerous."
"Only if you're afraid of honesty," Jason said smoothly.
Her eyes lingered on him for a long moment, as if weighing whether to believe him. She broke it with another laugh and a sip of wine.
The food was brought in—plates arranged with almost artistic precision. Jason wasn't much for fancy dining, but he carried himself like he belonged here. Fork in hand, he ate at her pace, listening more than he spoke.
Mariana rested her chin on her hand, watching him with amusement. "You fascinate me, Jason. You don't bow, you don't flatter. It's like you know exactly who you are."
Jason put down his fork. "Or maybe I just know what I'm not."
"Which is?"
"Not a man who pretends to be something he isn't."
Her lips curved slowly into a smile. "I like that."
For a moment, silence stretched—not awkward, but heavy with something unspoken.
Then Mariana leaned in, her voice softer. "So… what's your plan, Jason? You're young, sharp, and clearly not satisfied with fixing cars for the rest of your life. What's next?"
The system's glow flickered urgently.
[System Notice: High-impact question detected. Answer determines bond trajectory.]
[Recommendation: Reveal partial truth. Do you wish to disclose your sister's situation?]
[Yes / No]
Jason hesitated for a fraction of a second, then blinked the confirmation.
"Yes," he thought.
He looked at Mariana, his mask steady, his aura still glowing with confidence. But his voice carried a thread of something deeper.
"My plan? Honestly, I want to explore other paths. Jobs that pay better, jobs that give me a chance to pull my sister out of the mess she's in. She's ill. Treatment costs more than I can reach. And every day I stay stuck in the same place, I feel like I'm failing her."
Mariana's eyes softened. For a woman who had everything, she wasn't used to men laying bare their struggles without sounding defeated. Jason wasn't defeated. He was just… honest.
"You'd do anything for her," she said quietly.
Jason nodded once. "Anything. She's the reason I fight. In every sense."
She sat back, staring at him, her wine forgotten. "You know… I could help."
Jason arched a brow. "Help?"
She shrugged lightly, as if it were nothing. "Money isn't an issue for me. I could write a check tomorrow that would cover every medical bill she has. But…"
Jason's lips tugged into the faintest grin. "There's always a 'but.'"
Her smile matched his. "But… I'd want something in return. The problem is, I'm not sure what that is yet."
Jason leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, letting the weight of his aura fill the silence. "Then you'll have to figure it out. Because I don't take gifts. I take exchanges."
Her laugh was softer now, almost fond. "You're unbelievable."
The system flickered again.
[Attraction +18%. Current: 91%]
Dinner wound down slowly, every glance and word between them charged with something stronger than either wanted to admit outright.
When the last plate was taken away, Mariana looked at him with a mischievous glint. "Would you like to stay the night, Jason?"
Jason raised a brow, pretending to misunderstand. "Stay the night? You mean… play cards with your bodyguards?"
She burst out laughing, covering her mouth, shaking her head. "No, no, not that."
Jason tilted his head, grin widening. "Then you'll have to be clearer. I don't like guessing games."
Her cheeks colored slightly as she smirked. "You know what I mean."
Jason let the silence hang, then leaned forward, his eyes locked with hers. "If you want me, Mariana, then say it. Out loud. I'm not a man who reads between lines."
Her breath caught for the briefest second, then she laughed again, richer this time, her eyes sparkling. "You're impossible."
"And yet here I am," Jason said calmly.
She rose from her chair, walking around the table, her movements slow, deliberate. Jason stayed seated, watching, every muscle in his body relaxed yet alert. She stopped at his side, leaned down, and whispered, "Come with me."
Jason stood, towering slightly over her, and for a moment neither moved. Then she turned, leading him through the corridors of her golden-touched mansion.
The system flickered again as they walked.
[Warning: High-intimacy event approaching. Proceed with caution.]
Jason ignored it, his lips curving into a faint smirk. For once, he didn't need guidance.
They entered her room—a vast chamber with walls of white marble, a bed so large it seemed to swallow the space, and curtains that shimmered with threads of gold. She turned to him, eyes half-teasing, half-serious.
"You could still leave, you know," she said softly.
Jason stepped closer, his voice low. "Do you want me to?"
Her smile answered for her.
And as the door closed behind them, Jason understood something—the night wasn't just about Sophie's bills, or tournaments, or survival. It was about choice. And for once, he wasn't choosing out of desperation. He was choosing because he wanted to.
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