Lucien spent the next five minutes pacing circles around his room.

Ten.

Thousand.

Dollars.

No— worse.

One hundred thousand dollars.

There was absolutely no way that transfer had been intentional.

He didn't even have Leon's contact saved properly yet. What if the guy had added an extra zero by accident? What if Lucien spent any of it and then got sued by a billionaire boxer?

Lucien was midway through a stress spiral when his phone started ringing.

Unknown Number.

Lucien answered instantly.

"Hi—!"

"Sorry."

Leon's voice came through first.

Low. Rough.

Breathing slightly heavier than usual.

Like he'd just finished training.

"In the locker room," Leon added casually. "Training ran late."

Something about hearing his voice through the phone felt strangely different.

Closer somehow.

Too close.

Lucien blinked twice before his brain restarted.

"No, it's okay, but—" He lowered his voice. "You transferred me a hundred thousand dollars."

"Yeah."

"…Yeah?!"

"No mistake."

Lucien stopped pacing.

Across the locker room, Leon leaned back against the wooden bench, phone balanced against one shoulder while he reached for a towel.

Sweat slid slowly down his chest and stomach from the end of sparring.

A few teammates nearby were openly staring.

Leon ignored them.

On the phone, Lucien sounded halfway between horrified and ready to pass out.

Cute.

"I wanted to apologize properly," Leon said.

Lucien made a strangled noise.

"Most people don't apologize with six figures!"

Leon almost laughed.

Honestly?

He'd wanted to send more.

But there was a very real possibility Lucien would panic and disappear off the face of the earth.

Which would've been inconvenient.

Very inconvenient.

"Can I see you tomorrow?" Leon asked.

Immediate suspicion.

"What for?"

"To bring you something."

Lucien narrowed his eyes automatically despite Leon being unable to see him.

"…Why?"

"Because I kidnapped you."

Fair.

Lucien sat down slowly on the edge of his bed.

"You already paid me."

"I know."

"Then why are you still apologizing?"

Leon opened his locker one-handed.

Inside sat:

a wrinkled designer tie,

and one tiny white lamb tail.

Leon stared at both for a second.

Then shut the locker again.

"I feel bad," he said simply.

The honesty of it caught Lucien off guard.

Most rich people he'd met at WK acted allergic to accountability.

Leon, meanwhile, sounded genuinely annoyed with himself.

Dangerous combination.

Lucien hesitated.

Because okay.

Another gift from a billionaire athlete?

Probably expensive.

And Lucien, unfortunately, had always respected money tremendously.

"…Fine," he muttered eventually. "I work tomorrow."

"Where?"

"The pizza place near the front gate. The one with the red sign."

"I know it."

Of course he did.

He was campus royalty. He probably knew every building by tax category.

Silence settled for a second.

Weirdly awkward.

Lucien picked at a loose thread on his blanket.

"…So. Tomorrow?"

Leon's voice softened slightly.

"Tomorrow."

The call ended.

Lucien stared at the dark screen afterward.

Something about Leon Bolton felt increasingly inconsistent with the rumors.

Which honestly should've worried him more than it did.

—

Lucien barely had morning classes this semester, so he showed up at the pizza place early.

Jamie was already there wiping tables while humming obnoxiously under his breath.

He looked radiant.

Concerningly radiant.

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

"You win the lottery?"

Jamie looked up.

"Better."

Oh no.

Lucien already knew that tone.

"The guy from the party?" he guessed.

Jamie clutched his chest dramatically.

"The waist on that man."

Lucien pointed a warning finger at him.

"Nope. Absolutely not."

Jamie rolled his eyes.

"God, you're such a prude." Jamie grinned after. "Anyway— he's in the WK boxing club."

Lucien froze.

Uh oh.

Jamie kept going happily.

"He promised me tickets to Leon Bolton's next fight."

Lucien nearly dropped the tray he was holding.

Right.

Because apparently every road in his life now somehow led back to Leon Bolton.

Great.

"Anyway," Jamie continued, "what happened to your watch? You sell it?"

Lucien coughed violently.

"Yeah."

Technically true.

He had, in fact, sold a ticket.

For an amount of money that still made him dizzy thinking about it.

Jamie narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Lucien shoved him toward the kitchen.

"Go work before the manager kills us."

Around noon, the lunch rush started.

Lucien spent most of it running between tables and delivery pickups before his phone buzzed in his apron pocket.

His stomach flipped.

Leon.

For some reason, Lucien instinctively sneaked into the back hallway before answering.

"Busy?" Leon asked.

His voice slid warm against Lucien's ear through the speaker.

Nope.

Absolutely not reacting to that.

"I'm outside," Leon continued. "Can I come in?"

Lucien looked horrified at the idea instantly.

"No!"

Pause.

Then, hurriedly:

"I mean— I'll come outside."

A beat of silence.

Leon sounded amused when he answered.

"Okay."

Lucien hung up.

Then removed his apron, checked both directions like he was escaping federal custody, and slipped out the side entrance.

Leon's Aston Martin sat across the street.

Lucien hurried over and climbed inside quickly.

The second the door shut, Leon handed him a paper bag.

Lucien blinked.

"What's this?"

"Peace offering."

Lucien eyed him suspiciously.

"You already gave me a hundred thousand dollars."

"Still feel guilty."

Normal people did not say things like that while driving luxury sports cars.

Lucien accepted the bag carefully.

"…Can I open it?"

Leon glanced sideways.

"Go ahead."

The bag felt light.

Lucien expected: jewelry, designer clothes, maybe cash again because apparently Leon had lost his mind.

Instead—

tickets.

Several of them.

Lucien stared.

"…Oh."

Leon watched him carefully.

"Too much?"

"No, I just—"

Lucien counted quickly.

Eight tickets.

Jesus Christ.

Leon rested one arm against the steering wheel.

"I wanted to ask something."

Lucien looked up cautiously.

"Would it be weird if I invited you to the fight?"

Oh.

That—

unexpectedly sounded much softer than Lucien had prepared for.

Leon continued before he could answer.

"Sell them if you want. Give them away. I don't care." He paused briefly. "Just keep one."

Lucien blinked at him.

The eye contact lasted slightly too long.

Leon looked away first.

Interesting.

Lucien suddenly became very aware they were alone inside the car again.

Which felt different this time.

Less terrifying.

More…

Nope.

Not unpacking that.

"These are expensive," Lucien said weakly.

Leon shrugged.

"They're just tickets."

Just tickets.

Right.

Only worth several thousand dollars each.

Normal rich people behavior.

Lucien swallowed.

"…Thank you."

Leon nodded once.

Neither spoke for a few seconds afterward.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable exactly.

Just strange.

Lucien reached for the door handle automatically.

"I should get back to work."

Leon checked the time on his watch.

"Yeah."

Lucien opened the door—

"Lin Yu'an."

Lucien froze instantly.

Then slowly turned back around.

Leon leaned slightly against the seat watching him.

"This one better?"

The pronunciation was nearly perfect now.

Lucien stared.

"…How many times did you practice?"

Leon smirked slightly.

"So it was good."

Lucien looked away.

"It was okay."

Lie.

It had sounded unfairly nice in Leon's voice.

Lucien escaped the car before his brain could embarrass him further.

Back inside the pizza shop, he shoved the paper bag deep into his backpack like he was hiding classified government documents.

Because technically—

those tickets were worth a small fortune.

After lunch deliveries ended, Lucien asked for the afternoon off and rushed home.

The second he reached his room, he dumped all eight tickets across the desk.

Three thousand.

Six thousand.

Nine thousand—

Lucien's eyes sparkled brighter with every calculation.

Okay.

One ticket reserved for himself.

One for Jamie because Jamie had unfortunately become emotionally attached to him.

That still left six.

Lucien leaned back in his chair grinning like a tiny criminal mastermind.

Leon Bolton wasn't a boxer anymore.

He was a financial aid program.

Lucien photographed the tickets

and uploaded the listings online.

Then he picked one up again.

Something near the corner caught the light strangely.

Lucien frowned.

The edge turned faintly transparent under the lamp.

And there—

A tiny red dot embedded near the seal.

Anti-counterfeit marking?

Lucien narrowed his eyes.

Interesting.

Especially because the fake tickets Leon mentioned apparently looked convincing enough to fool people.

Could they copy this too?

Before he could think harder about it, Jamie texted him asking to get dinner together.

Lucien brightened instantly.

Perfect.

He could give Jamie his ticket tonight.

—

Dinner happened at a burger place because both of them were chronically broke at heart.

While waiting for food, both spoke at exactly the same time.

"I got you something."

They stopped.

Then burst out laughing.

Jamie went first.

"I got us fight tickets."

He dramatically slapped two tickets onto the table.

Lucien stared.

Then slowly pulled out his own.

"…Funny story."

Silence.

Then both of them nearly choked laughing.

Halfway through aggressively salted fries, Lucien asked casually:

"The boxing guy gave those to you?"

Jamie looked smug.

"Yep. His name's Chuck."

Pause.

"We're dating now."

Lucien nearly inhaled a french fry.

"You met him three days ago."

"And?"

"You know nothing about him!"

Jamie shrugged.

"The dick was persuasive."

Lucien almost dropped his drink.

"Jamie!"

"What?" Jamie grinned shamelessly. "You should loosen up more."

"Nope."

"You're too tense all the time." Jamie pointed a fry at him. "Seriously. One good hookup would change your life."

Lucien looked horrified.

Jamie spread both hands dramatically.

"I can introduce you to people."

"No."

"Hot people."

"No."

"Very hot people."

"Absolutely not."

Jamie sighed heavily.

"Waste of a face."

Honestly, he wasn't wrong.

Lucien's whole soft mixed-race art-boy thing did catastrophic damage on campus.

Black hair.

Pale skin.

Pretty eyes.

Nervous energy.

People loved that shit.

The problem was Lucien looked fragile enough to snap in half.

Jamie took another bite of his burger.

"So where'd your tickets come from?"

Lucien started coughing on his soda.

Right.

That.

He couldn't exactly say:

Oh, Leon Bolton accidentally kidnapped me and now he's giving me gifts.

That sounded clinically insane.

"A friend," Lucien answered weakly.

Jamie narrowed his eyes.

Suspicious.

Lucien panicked and shoved one ticket toward him.

"Take it before I change my mind."

Jamie accepted it happily.

Then Lucien froze.

The overhead restaurant light hit Jamie's ticket at a different angle.

Lucien frowned.

Wait.

No transparent corner.

No red security dot.

His expression changed instantly.

Jamie noticed.

"…What?"

Lucien slowly looked up.

"That ticket," he said carefully.

"Where exactly did Chuck get it?"