DEBT OF DESIRE

The music came back too loud. Too sudden. Like something had been forced back into place. XiaoLin didn’t move. Didn’t turn. Didn’t breathe properly for a second too long. Because he knew—he knew—if he looked now, he wouldn’t just see the club anymore. “…You heard it, didn’t you?” Lin Mo’s voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the bass. XiaoLin swallowed once before answering. “…Yeah.” It wasn’t fear that settled in his chest. It was something worse. Recognition. Lin Mo watched him carefully, the usual amusement gone, replaced by something sharper—something calculating. “Good,” he murmured. That single word felt wrong. Not relief. Not concern. Confirmation. XiaoLin finally turned his head. Slowly. Deliberately. The space behind him was exactly what it should have been—crowded, messy, alive. People brushed past each other, glasses clinked, someone laughed too loudly near the bar. Normal. Completely normal. And yet— “…There’s nothing there,” XiaoLin said. Lin Mo leaned back, exhaling softly. “There never is,” he replied. That didn’t help. It made it worse. XiaoLin turned back to him, eyes narrowing. “You knew that would happen.” “Yes.” “You planned it.” “Yes.” A pause. “…Why?” Lin Mo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for XiaoLin’s untouched glass, lifting it, inspecting the liquid inside like it held answers. “You always needed proof,” he said finally. “You were never the type to believe in things you couldn’t see.” “And now?” Lin Mo met his gaze again. “Now you don’t have a choice.” The words settled heavily between them. XiaoLin leaned forward, voice low. “Start talking.” For a moment, Lin Mo looked almost… tired. It was subtle. Gone in a second. But XiaoLin saw it. “You remember the night you left?” Lin Mo asked. XiaoLin’s expression didn’t change. “I remember enough.” “Do you?” Lin Mo set the glass back down, untouched. “Because from where I’m standing, you remember exactly what you want to.” XiaoLin’s jaw tightened. “Don’t play games with me.” “I’m not.” Lin Mo leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough that it became something only XiaoLin could hear. “You don’t remember the part where you weren’t alone.” Silence. That shouldn’t have meant anything. It shouldn’t have— “I was alone,” XiaoLin said firmly. Lin Mo held his gaze. “No,” he said softly. “You weren’t.” Something flickered at the edge of XiaoLin’s mind. A memory— —or the shape of one. Dark. Blurred. Incomplete. A hallway, maybe. Or a street. Cold air. And— XiaoLin blinked hard, pulling himself back. “No,” he repeated, sharper this time. Lin Mo didn’t push. But the look in his eyes said everything. You will remember. The music shifted again, slower, almost hypnotic. Time felt… strange. Like it was stretching in places it shouldn’t. “You said three nights,” XiaoLin said, forcing the conversation forward. “Who’s trying to kill you?” Lin Mo’s lips curved slightly. “If I told you, it wouldn’t matter.” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s the only one you’re getting.” XiaoLin let out a quiet, irritated breath. “You’re asking me to protect you from something you won’t even name.” “I’m not asking.” There it was. That edge. That control. “I’m telling you.” XiaoLin laughed under his breath—short, humorless. “You really haven’t changed.” Lin Mo tilted his head. “Neither have you.” A pause. Then, softer— “That’s the problem.” For a second—just one—the tension shifted. Less hostile. More… something else. Something unspoken. Dangerous in a completely different way. XiaoLin noticed it. Of course he did. And just as quickly— He shut it down. “This isn’t happening,” he said, leaning back. “Find someone else.” Lin Mo didn’t react. Didn’t argue. Didn’t try to convince him. Instead, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, black envelope, placing it on the table between them. It looked ordinary. Too ordinary. “What’s that?” XiaoLin asked. “Your answer.” “I already gave you one.” Lin Mo slid the envelope closer. “Open it.” XiaoLin didn’t move. “Open it,” Lin Mo repeated, quieter this time. Something in his tone— Not command. Not pressure. Something else. Something that made XiaoLin hesitate. Slowly, he reached forward, fingers brushing the edge of the envelope. It was heavier than it looked. That was the first thing he noticed. The second— It was cold. Not room temperature. Colder. Like it had been sitting somewhere it shouldn’t have. XiaoLin frowned, flipping it open. Inside— A photograph. He pulled it out. And the world tilted. It was him. There was no doubt about that. Same face. Same posture. Same expression— Except— “…This isn’t possible,” XiaoLin said. Because the photo wasn’t recent. It couldn’t be. He was standing in a place he didn’t recognize, dressed in clothes he didn’t own. And behind him— Someone else. Blurred. Distorted. Like the camera hadn’t been able to capture them properly. “Where did you get this?” XiaoLin asked, voice low. Lin Mo watched him carefully. “Three years ago,” he said. XiaoLin’s grip tightened on the photo. “That’s a lie.” “Is it?” XiaoLin looked again. At himself. At the background. At the figure behind him— And for a split second— It moved. Not physically. Not really. But something about it shifted. Like it was… closer. XiaoLin dropped the photo back onto the table. “…What is that?” Lin Mo didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was softer than before. “That,” he said, “is why you can’t walk away.” Silence. Heavy. Suffocating. XiaoLin stared at the photo like it might change again if he looked too long. “…You’re saying this thing—whatever it is—is connected to me.” “I’m saying it always has been.” A beat passed. Then— “And now it’s awake.” The word hit harder than it should have. Awake. Not new. Not arriving. Awake. Which meant— It had always been there. Watching. Waiting. XiaoLin exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “This is insane.” “Maybe.” Lin Mo’s voice didn’t waver. “But you heard it.” XiaoLin went still. Because that— That was true. “…What happens in three nights?” he asked quietly. Lin Mo leaned forward one last time, his expression unreadable. “In three nights,” he said, “it stops watching.” A pause. Then— “It starts choosing.” The music pulsed. The lights flickered again—just once this time. And across the room— Someone turned. Not toward the bar. Not toward the dance floor. Toward them. XiaoLin noticed immediately. Of course he did. The man didn’t look strange. Didn’t stand out. Average height. Dark clothes. Empty expression. But his eyes— They didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. “…Do you see him?” XiaoLin asked under his breath. Lin Mo didn’t turn. “Yes.” “Is that one of yours?” “No.” A pause. “…Then whose is he?” Lin Mo’s lips curved slightly. “Exactly.” The man started walking toward them. Slow. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world. XiaoLin’s muscles tensed automatically. “Don’t react,” Lin Mo murmured. “He’s walking straight at us.” “I know.” “Lin Mo—” “Don’t.” The word was sharper this time. Commanding. XiaoLin forced himself to stay still. To breathe normally. To act like nothing was wrong. Even as the man got closer. Closer. Closer— And then— He stopped. Right beside their table. Close enough that XiaoLin could see the faint reflection of red light in his eyes. Close enough that he should have said something. Done something. But he didn’t. He just stood there. Watching. Waiting. For what— XiaoLin didn’t know. “…You shouldn’t have come back,” the man said. His voice was flat. Empty. Like it didn’t belong to him. XiaoLin felt something cold settle in his chest. “Who are you?” he asked. The man didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze shifted— Not to Lin Mo. To the photograph on the table. And for the first time— Something changed in his expression. Not emotion. Not exactly. Recognition. “…It found you faster than expected,” the man said. XiaoLin’s pulse spiked. “What found me?” The man’s lips moved slowly. Carefully. Like the words themselves were heavy. “Don’t let it see you twice.” A beat. Then— He turned. And walked away. Just like that. Gone. Disappearing into the crowd like he had never been there. XiaoLin didn’t move for a long moment. Then— “…You’re going to explain that,” he said. Lin Mo exhaled softly. “Not here.” XiaoLin let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Of course not.” He grabbed the photo again, shoving it back into the envelope. “Then where?” Lin Mo stood. Straightened his jacket. And for a moment—just a moment—his expression softened. Not much. But enough. “My place,” he said. A pause. Then, quieter— “If you’re still willing to follow me.” XiaoLin looked up at him. At the man who dragged him back into something he didn’t understand. At the mystery that was already wrapping around him like a trap. At the feeling— That this was only the beginning. “…I don’t trust you,” XiaoLin said. Lin Mo’s lips curved faintly. “I know.” Another pause. Then— XiaoLin stood. “Lead the way.” And just like that— The night shifted again. Because some choices— Once made— Couldn’t be undone.