Two days passed, and the direction of public opinion grew increasingly unfavorable.

Lucian lay curled on the sofa, the light from his phone screen reflecting off his face.

Using his own account, he scrolled through the comments one by one.

【This lawyer doesn't look like a good person at first glance.】

【Keeping a young boy while helping a scumbag bully his wife—trash among trash.】

【That guy looks like an escort; so young and already choosing the wrong path.】

The more Lucian read, the angrier he became. He knew he was good-looking, but how did he look like an escort? With a build as sturdy as his, why couldn't this just be a normal relationship?

His finger paused on the screen, staring at the word "escort," and then he began to type.

【Do you even know him? Do you know the truth? Stop your blind babbling.】

Send.

The next one.

【What do photos prove? You believe whatever gossip accounts tell you? Do you not have a brain?】

Send.

And another.

【He is cleaner than all of you combined. Shut up!】

His fingers tapped the screen rapidly, rebuffing them one by one. But there were too many comments, surging in like a tide; for every one he countered, ten more appeared.

He gritted his teeth and kept fighting back.

Inside the bedroom, Sebastian stared at the ceiling with wide eyes.

It was three in the morning, and he still couldn't sleep.

Messages in his phone arrived one after another—firm groups, industry groups, friend groups... some were concerned, some were probing, and some were kicking him while he was down. He didn't reply; he just watched the messages scroll upward.

At dawn, Joe sent a photo.

The law firm’s door had been smashed, glass littering the floor. On the wall, the words "TRASH" and "CORRUPT LAWYER" had been sprayed in large red letters, the paint dripping down the surface in a chilling display.

His car hadn't been spared either. The hood was covered in deep scratches, the tires were slashed, and the body was smeared with filth.

Joe’s text followed:

【Counselor Sebastian, don’t come in for now. We’ve called the police...】

Sebastian stared at the photos, feeling a sudden impulse to go out and fight someone. He set the phone down and closed his eyes.

——

For the next few days, he took a leave of absence and stayed home.

He didn't go out, didn't see anyone, and didn't answer his phone.

Lucian went to school every day, and whenever he returned, he would see Sebastian sitting on the sofa with a vacant gaze.

A beard had started to grow, his hair was a mess, and he wore nothing but a thin set of loungewear.

He looked as if he had been hollowed out.

One evening, Sebastian sat on the sofa again, holding his tablet and flipping through those photos.

The entrance of the hotel in his hometown.

The food street in the small town.

The forced-perspective shot at the restaurant.

Frame by frame, his anger grew.

His fingers tightened, his knuckles turning white.

He had been followed in his hometown.

The angles of those photos clearly indicated they were taken surreptitiously.

And then there was Marcus—the moment Marcus invited him out, the internet exploded.

There were no such coincidences in this world.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number.

After two rings, the other side picked up.

"Oh, the great Counselor Sebastian. What brings you to call me?"

Marcus's voice came through the receiver, laced with irrepressible mirth.

Sebastian held the phone, waiting for the other man to speak first.

Marcus chuckled.

"What, no words? Have you seen the stuff online? Tsk, tsk, tsk... those photos are quite well-shot. Even I thought..."

"It was you."

Sebastian interrupted him, his voice flat.

Marcus paused, then let out a loud laugh.

"Me? What does this have to do with me? Counselor, don't go slandering an innocent man."

Sebastian’s grip on the phone tightened a fraction.

But he didn't explode; instead, he gave a faint smile.

"Fine," he said.

Then he hung up.

Marcus stared at the dial tone, stunned for a moment.

He had expected to hear Sebastian’s roar, to hear him break down, to hear him beg for mercy.

But he only heard one word.

Fine.

He suddenly felt a twinge of unease.

Knock, knock, knock—

There was a knock at the door.

Sebastian lifted his head.

Lucian stood in the doorway, watching him.

Seeing his messy hair, his stubble, and the dark shadows under his eyes, Lucian’s heart tightened instinctively.

Lucian walked in, sat beside him, and reached out to pull him into an embrace.

Sebastian set the phone down, his mood clearly sour.

Lucian’s hands pressed lightly onto his shoulders, beginning a slow massage.

"Stop looking at it," he said.

Lucian was silent for a while, then spoke again.

"If it comes down to it, we can just admit it."

Lucian stared at him, his gaze earnest.

"We’re in a real relationship," he said. "What is there to fear?"

Sebastian stared at Lucian and let out a cold laugh.

"Who would believe that?" Sebastian said, his voice raspy. "Kids your age?"

Lucian wanted to explain.

Sebastian continued: "Besides..."

He paused, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

"We aren't exactly in a 'real' relationship."

Lucian’s face froze; a numb sensation washed over his body.

"What do you mean by that?"

Sebastian said nothing, merely giving him a fleeting, indifferent glance.

Lucian stood up, looking down at him.

"What do you mean?" he asked again, his voice rising. "Am I just your escort?"

Sebastian finally looked up at him.

Not an escort, but not a legitimate relationship either—just a moment of impulsive indulgence. He couldn't be bothered to explain further. Regarding this topic, they had already spoken before; he didn't want to bring it up over and over again.

"Get out," he said.

Lucian glared at him.

"What did you say?"

"I said, get out."

Sebastian didn't look at him again. He knew he had a temper, but after thirty-four years, he was far past the point of wanting to change, and he wouldn't change for anyone.

"Fine. I'm going."

He turned and strode out.

The door was slammed shut with a vengeance.

The

bang

echoed through the empty house.

Sebastian sat on the sofa, staring at the door. He felt a sharp pang in his heart, but he recovered quickly.

The priority now was to issue a clarification immediately; otherwise, his career would be over and his reputation ruined.

He picked up his phone again and dialed a number.

...

When Lucian burst out of the villa, it was raining lightly outside.

He didn't take an umbrella, simply walking into the rain.

It was cold, but not cold enough—not cold enough to douse the fire in his heart.

He walked along the road, not knowing where he was going, only knowing he couldn't stop. If he stopped, he would think; and if he thought, he would only get angrier.

An escort?

He was an escort?

He liked him so much, protected him so much, trusted him so much—and in the end, he was just a freaking escort?

Lucian kicked a soda can on the side of the road. It clattered away, vanishing into the curtain of rain.

He pulled out his phone to call Chen, but his finger hovered over the screen and stopped.

What would he say?

Hey, that old man treats me like an escort? Hey, I was just flattering myself?

He wouldn't do something so humiliating!

He shoved the phone back into his pocket and kept walking.

The rain grew heavier, soaking his hair and clothes until they clung to his body, freezing him to the bone.

But he didn't stop.

He just kept walking, as if trying to walk the fire out of his heart.

———

Sebastian spent a long time on the phone.

So long that the light outside faded and then brightened again.

He didn't know if he had slept; he only felt his body growing stiff and his eyelids heavy, while his mind remained agonizingly sharp.

He sat up slowly, bracing himself against the arm of the sofa.

His back hurt.

He hadn't moved much these past few days and hadn't let Lucian massage him; the old injury was starting to act up again.

Supporting his waist, he stood up and walked to the window.

It was still raining outside.