'I've always thought that falling in love was the most exhilarating thing that I've ever done.
But Rowen proves me wrong when he returns my love.
Falling in love isn't the most exhilarating thing; having the person I love return the same affection is.'
- An Excerpt from Don't Blame a Daydreamer, Marianne's POV
The moment Naomi got home, she headed straight towards her bedroom, dismissing Hannah and the other maids, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the calm and quiet and let her mind relax under all the pressure she'd been throughout the day.
Her socked feet padded across the carpeted floor of her bedroom, going closer to the vanity mirror. But it wasn't her reflection she was looking at. Her gaze was drawn to the ripped piece of paper she taped onto the mercurial surface of the mirror. She reached a hand out, her fingers brushing softly against the neatly written string of numbers.
For the life of her, she couldn't bring herself to throw the paper away even after saving the number in her phone. How could she? Looking at the piece of paper reminded her that her husband was here with her, albeit he didn't know the bit about being her husband yet.
"There isn't a minute that goes by when I don't miss you," Naomi said quietly to herself, allowing herself this chance to wallow in her self-pity, guilt, longing, and sorrow.
It was only yesterday when she learned that her husband was here, and discovered he was the Unknown Variable that entered the circle with her. He defied the odds himself and became something else entirely—something like her, but not quite her either.
Remembering the kind of existence Calix held in this circle still had Naomi's mind reeling.
Other than her, he was the sole person capable of interfering with the plot without facing deadly consequences. His existence in this circle was ambiguous since his character design had been completely erased and rewritten, although his original character remained present in the novel itself. He was akin to an untouchable glitch; an anomaly not even the System could counter.
It felt like an eternity had passed since Naomi last saw him, when in truth, she only met him yesterday. She wanted to see him. She wanted to hear his voice and listen to him talk. She wanted to burrow into the warmth in his arms and stay in the comfort of his embrace. She wanted to look into his eyes, make certain the impossible happened, and he was really here with her.
There would be plenty of ways to meet him, if Naomi really tried. Not only could she use Levi to get to Calix, she also had connections in the entertainment industry through her mother. Her family name could also act as a support, if she wanted access to the strictest and most closed-off part of the industry. Heck, she could even use her father's connections, if push came to shove. She wasn't lacking in resources at all.
If she really tried and let go of her resolve, she would likely be where Calix was right now. She would have a clear and accurate copy of his schedule. She would know what places he visited and what vehicles he used to travel. She would know the people he met and the people he kept close. No information would be left untouched; no areas would be left unturned.
If she was more selfish, she would have used everything she knew about him as her husband and seduced him. She would make him fall in love with her, make him so crazy about her he couldn't even think straight. She would marry him again and they would build the life and family they couldn't have in the previous circle.
Her hand lingered for a brief moment, before her arm dropped to her side.
But as much as she wanted to see him, she couldn't act out her desires carelessly, not when so much was at stake. She was holding herself back for this reason, not even mustering the courage to search his name in the internet and watch all of his movies and listen to his songs, or even take the step forward and call him when he explicitly asked to.
She already missed him too much; more, and she would undoubtedly crumble, unable to do anything in this circle but succumb to her regrets and grievances. Now that the walls were torn apart and she was left vulnerable, she was already tormented with her memories of him.
There was no guarantee he would fall in love with her again in this circle. He might see her as an acquaintance or a friend. Just because he used to love her in their previous lives together, didn't mean he would love her now. That single possibility terrified her. But not as terrifying as the idea of leaving him again, especially when she didn't even know if she'd be given the chance to see him again.
She walked out the first time; she didn't think she would be able to walk out the second time. Once everything was over, once she secured a place in this circle without the fear of a tragedy haunting her steps, she would choose to stay and get to know her husband as Calix. He might not fall in love with her again, but it would be enough for her to love him.
It had to be enough.
One day, she would have to face her fears—face him—but that day wasn't today.
For now, she was going to get ready to go out for a night of debauchery.
A few hours later and Naomi found herself sitting on a plush seat pushed against the wall, holding a margarita in one hand as if it was a prop, one leg thrown over her knee, her face far too serious in such a loud and wild place.
Music blared from the speakers in all different directions, a relentless barrage of melody and rhythm that crashed against every surface of the room. Illuminated streaks of light darted and weaved in random patterns, painting the shadows of the nightclub in vibrant hues. The air cackled with a near maniacal energy as drugs, alcohol, and sex caused waves among the crowd.
Hush was one of the most sought-after destinations in the city, a nightclub located in the deepest, busiest part of the central square. It was an iconic spot for the city's socialites, celebrities, influencers, and elites as they indulged in a memorable night of debauchery and decadency.
It was a hedonist's paradise, a place of corruption and sin. It was a place where people were free to lose their inhibitions and rationality without fearing they would be judged. People came to have fun and regret later. Inside these walls, they'd lose themselves in the pleasurable haze of the night and would only come up to a sobering reality in the early hours of dawn.
What made it a renowned establishment wasn't the luxuries it offered, but the promise of secrecy it held.
What happened at Hush, stayed at Hush.
Upon entry, Naomi was immediately sequestered at the VIP Section on the second floor of the building. The VIP section exuded an air of opulence. It was a haven of exclusivity and sophistication tucked away from the fervor of the entire club, enjoyed by the most privileged guests.
Plush couches, upholstered in the most lavish fabrics, lined the perimeter, each table separated by long, dark curtains, to lend discerning guests a sense of privacy and an intimate setting. The seating arrangement was strategically placed for guests to have a panoramic view of the dancefloor's vibrant activity below.
For a more private and quieter setting, there was a hallway to the side, leading to the rooms at the back. This was guarded by an impressive looking man in a black suit and black aviators, an earphone stuck in one of his ears. No one could carelessly nor recklessly come in without invitation.
She placed the margarita glass on the table before she rose from her seat and wandered towards the railing, watching the dancefloor below. A sea of bodies writhed and gyrated against and on top of each other like a nest of snakes; one did not know where the other ended.
She cringed, one eye twitching close, her head sharply turning to the side, when a bright light flashed over to her face before sweeping carelessly around the dim room. Her eyelashes fluttered, her lips pursing, and the vein at the side of her head pulsing. Eventually, her features smoothened over.
She didn't have anything against nightclubs; she just wasn't a big fan of the dancing lights and the noise. The lights left a headache in the center of her temple; the noise didn't help with her dilemma, making her temple throb. The drinks helped numb the ache, but she disliked the way it made her mind fuzzy and sluggish. It left her far too vulnerable, and being vulnerable at a place like this was the last thing she needed.
But she came here for a reason.
She gestured to the attendant guarding the curtains, signaling him wordlessly she wanted to leave. The attendant nodded and held the heavy drapes open for her to slip through, the fabric brushing against the floor. She nodded her head in thanks and slipped out, immediately seeing rows of black curtains separating other guests, hidden from her view, and attendants walking about.
An attendant immediately approached her as she loitered in the middle of the corridor. People were prohibited from wandering around in the VIP section, to prevent them from disturbing other guests, unless they were the attendants serving the drinks. Since most of the people in attendance were celebrities and big figures, their privacy was truly well-guarded.
"Is there anything you need, Miss?" he asked.
"I need the bathroom. Can you lead me the way?"
"Certainly." The attendant gestured right in the corridor with his arm, angling his body sideways, one foot pointed. "This way, Miss."
Naomi followed the attendant to the bathroom. Up ahead, she could see another curtain opening, a robust middle-aged man walking out, his shoulders shaking as loud laughter boomed from his open mouth. His thinning hair was unkempt on his head, his necktie crooked and loose around his neck. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes masking a hazy glow of a mind drowning in intoxication.
She quickly learned looking at him was a mistake when their eyes met and a lecherous grin cut the laughter from his mouth. She held her breath, shoulders squared and back stiff, as they attempted to walk past him. Except—he suddenly clamped a large, meaty hand around her wrist, forcing her into a stop.
"What the—?!" Naomi tried to tug her arm out from his grasp, but he tightened his grip and pulled her closer. She gritted her teeth, a shiver rolling down her spine, as he looked down at her. Her heart raced when she saw the flash of desire in his beady eyes, but outwardly, she kept her composure. "Let go of me. Right now."
"My, my, what's a fresh, sweet thing like you doing at a place like this?" His dark eyes assessed her, his grin growing wider as his gaze lingered on her chest. It made her want to wretch. "You don't look old enough to be here. Aren't you a bad, little girl."
The attendant quickly stepped forward when he noticed Naomi's troubling situation.
"Excuse me, Sir, please let go of the Miss right now," he said, his voice calm, although a hint of crease marred the spot between his brows. "You are making her uncomfortable."
"Go away," the man barked out, only momentarily taking his eyes off of Naomi to give the attendant a dirty glare. "Your Miss here looks fine to me."
"This Miss can speak for herself," Naomi interjected, her voice a chilly breeze and her eyes piercingly cold. "And she wants you to get your disgusting hands off of her."
She tried to slip her wrist, twisting her arm, out of his grasp but his grip grew tighter and she was forced to stop. She glanced at the ring on her pinky, the gemstone shining like a drop of blood.
She couldn't open her inventory right now, since it prohibited access whenever she was involved with the characters in the circle, no matter how insignificant. That meant her only access to her potions was through her ring. Unfortunately, he was holding her arm in a vice-like grip, preventing her from drinking a Strength Potion.
Is it too much if I kick his balls instead?
His cheeks reddened even more, his nose flaring at Naomi's insolence. "Why, you arrogant little bitch!" He squeezed her arm, and she flinched as a painful sensation bloomed from her wrist. "You need to be taught a lesson!"
"Sir," the attendant stepped closer, hands outstretched, "please refrain from making a scene—"
"Shut your mouth, boy!" the man yelled loudly, cheeks flushed crimson, as he pointed a finger at the attendant. "If you want to keep your job, shut your mouth! And you—"
Naomi drew her head back, her neck stiff, veins protruding with tension, when he swung his pointed finger at her face. She looked at the meaty appendage, her lips twitching with the temptation to sneer—or bite his finger, whichever came first—but she grappled her control over her emotions, no matter how hard it was not to unleash her fury.
The night had already taken a bad turn; she didn't need to make it worse.
She could only chuckle quietly, bitterly to herself, when she realized this man's strength overpowered her own. How could it not when her strength was merely a forty-four?
"—If you know what's good for you, you'll listen to me, little girl," the man warned, his voice lowering in a hissed slur.
Naomi's nose wrinkled, his rank breath making her hold her breath. "And if you know what's good for you, I suggest letting go of my arm, you disgusting piece of shit—"
"Why, you fucking whore—"
She flinched back when he roared, wanting to avoid his spit.
In a split second, as tension mounted and aggression brewed, a sudden movement cut through the charged atmosphere.
She felt, more than saw, a figure moving swiftly past her, their hand extended to grab the man's shoulder, pushing him back slightly and making him cut his words off. The man went agape, wordlessly staring wide-eyed at the intruder, losing all color from his face.
A profound sense of déjà vu left her in a momentary daze, her gaze darting to the person who intervened into their confrontation. It was the lavender hair that caught her attention first, as if it was some sort of beacon. Her heart leaped to her throat when she eventually caught a glimpse of his eyes.
Cold and piercing like shards of ice, his eyes gleamed with a crystalline hue that could freeze anyone with their intensity.
Her lips parted, a single word tumbling out of her mouth in a breathless hitch.
"Calix."
He was here. He was actually, really here. Even when she least expected him to, even when she hadn't planned to, he came to her rescue.
Hearing her utter his name, his gaze casted a furtive scan over her profile, as if making sure she wasn't harmed or injured in any way. Once he deemed her unharmed, he returned his focus back to the other man.
"Drop her arm." Calix's eyes smoldered like burning embers and his grip on the man's shoulder grew vice-lip, his knuckles straining. His voice was steely, holding an unwelcome chill that made them all shiver. "Now."
The drunk man quickly dropped her arm as if he'd been burned, his hands betraying a slight tremor as he wiped his palms on his thighs. Naomi pulled back, cradling her arm to her chest, her wrist twinging with a slight ache. She stepped behind Calix, whose broad shoulders and tall stature sheltered her from danger.
Calix stared at the man for a few moments, making him fidget and squirm, beads of sweat dribbling down the side of his pudgy face, his mouth trembling. An oppressive silence ensued among them, the air crackling with an uneasy tension. Breaths trapped in her lungs; it seemed as if they were only waiting for someone to make a move first.
Alternating a gaze between Calix and the other man, Naomi took a bold step closer towards her husband. She didn't hesitate placing a hand on the small of his back, feeling how his spine flinched and froze under her palm at her unexpected touch.
"Let him go," she urged him, voice gentle and quiet, tempering the boiling atmosphere between them. When he casted a questioning glance at her, she pasted a small smile, running her hand up his back and placing them between his shoulder blades. "Let him go, Calix. He's simply not worth it."
She felt his back losing tension and relaxing under her touch. Just as she thought he was going to release him and step back, Calix bent his head forward slightly towards the man's face, holding his stare.
"If I ever see you put a hand on her again," Calix began, his lilting voice breezing with an indifferent, offhanded tone; his eyes, however, spoke a different story as it harbored a silent death, "not even God himself can stop me from hunting you down and break your fingers, one-by-one. Do I make myself clear, Mister Hayes?"
Mister Hayes jerked a nod, his entire body trembling, his back hunched as if trying to make himself as small as possible. A moment and two. When it seemed as though the man was about to melt under Calix's unflinching stare, he was finally let go. He scurried like a frightened mouse, looking like the very devil itself was nipping at his heels, and disappeared behind dark curtains not a moment later.
Naomi heard Calix release a heavy breath, his spine flexing beneath her palm, and she couldn't help but pat his back. He looked at her over his shoulder, the intense depth to his light eyes making it appear darker with focus. She could feel the hairs at the back of her neck rise, a tingling sensation crawling down her spine and causing an involuntary shiver.
"Once is a coincidence; twice is a pattern," he said, pivoting on his heel to face her, both of his hands now tucked inside his jeans' pockets. "I'm starting to think you attract trouble."
She fought a smile threatening to break across her face, letting her hand fall to her side. "Well, if trouble means meeting you again," she shrugged, "I might as well start asking for it."
"Please, don't," he sighed. His lips might be a straight line over his face, his eyes framing a bland and neutral expression, but there was no mistaking the traces of bemusement at the edge of his mouth. "It might seem early to say this, but I hope we stop meeting like this."
"As much as I love to be saved by you, I do agree it's getting out of hand," she joked, her shoulders shaking as laughter sounded from her throat. She looked at him, her laughter trailing off, leaving behind a smile that curved the corner of her eyes. "Hello, Calix."
"Hello, Naomi," he breathed out softly, his eyes shining vividly in the dimly lit room.
She never thought she would hear her name spoken so softly again—as if it was something precious and delicate—but he proved her wrong. She didn't think he would ever stop proving her wrong, and she never expected to like being wrong either.
"It's nice to see you again," he added, "even though we met in this kind of circumstance."
"I honestly wouldn't have it any other way."
Surprise flashed across his face, but she didn't take her words back. Because he was here in front of her, her gaze darting from his eyes to his nose to his lips, then back again; the world fading away the longer she looked at him. But then the attendant suddenly cleared his throat, breaking her out of her stupor.
The attendant turned sharply on his feet to face them and lowered his head, gaze staring at the floor between their feet. When he began to express his apologies, Naomi waved her hand in the air, dismissing his concerns right away.
"It's not your fault that some people are assholes," she remarked. "Contrary to your belief, I'm not some damsel, alright? If he"—she pointed a thumb at Calix's figure—"hadn't swooped in, I would've kicked that man right where it hurts."
She heard a soft chuckle. She glanced at her husband, seeing a flash of a smile crossing his lips. It was so swift; it could've been an illusion. But she knew it wasn't.
"Do not make this a habit," Calix told the attendant, his voice firm and sharp, it could cut. Others might think he was being strict and stern, but his relaxed shoulders suggested he was no longer fueled with tension. "She might let this go, but I won't. I don't want to see him again any time after this night."
"Certainly, sir," the attendant complied, lowering his head further. "You can be rest assured sir Hayes will be removed from the premises and banned from entering the club for violating guest rules."
Calix nodded. "That's good. You may now leave."
Despite the clear order, the attendant hesitated in his place and lowered his head again. "I apologize, sir, but as guests, you are not allowed to loiter in the corridor."
"I'll take her to my private room," Calix told the attendant, making her snap her head to him. As if his sixth sense hinted at her stare, he seemed to realize what he'd said and turned to look at her, forehead slightly creased as his brows met. "That is, if you want to? I can have the attendant take you back to yours."
And miss out this opportunity to steal a few moments with her husband? She wasn't insane. And besides, she already found what she came here for.
Mister Hayes, as Calix called him earlier, was Jason Hayes of the R&L Financial Group, Marianne's none other than biological father, the one who abandoned her and her mother when she was only five-years-old.
In the latter half of the novel, Marianne met her father for the first time in this very same nightclub. The man himself, hadn't recognized his own daughter and tried to take advantage of her. Before anything could happen, Marianne was rescued by Levi, who took her to safety.
Like all things Levi Lee, he wasn't going to let go of the person who hurt the one he loved. Just as he had done to the Cunninghams, Levi put a target on Hayes' back, causing him to lose his job, go bankrupt, and go crazy. Diagnosed with insanity, he was later sent to the same mental asylum as the Original.
There he met the Original and became obsessed with her beauty. With no one to protect her, her family in ruins, and her mind broken, the Original couldn't defend herself against Hayes' malicious and cruel intentions. The things Hayes had done to the Original was unspeakably despicable Naomi nearly wondered if the genre changed while she was reading the novel.
Putting a face on the man, rather than merely reading the words in the novel, certainly made Naomi's blood boil. She expected for their meeting to go the way it did, with him being aggressive and her being powerless, but she assumed she could control the situation, especially with an attendant nearby. She obviously underestimated his strength and overestimated hers.
There was a number of ways to get out of that situation, even without someone's help. However, because of her low strength, she wasn't able to do anything. In the end, Calix caught her in a state where she was helplessly weak.
If she had been stronger, if her strength wasn't at forty-four over a hundred, she would've been able to escape from that man's grasp earlier. If she acted quicker, drinking a Strength Potion from her ring to grant her a momentary attribute boost, she would've been able to break out faster than expected.
She neglected her physical strength so much; she couldn't even fight back against a drunk, pathetic excuse of a man. Perhaps, she'd been too negligent with her own life and well-being. With no other options at hand, of course her only solution was to physically harm that man just to get away.
She was nearly close to kicking him before her husband arrived. She didn't know whether to be happy he arrived on time, or to be disgruntled by the lost opportunity. She glanced at her husband, and felt something unburden in her chest, filling her with an immeasurable amount of warmth.
Happy—she was definitely happy he came. So what if she hadn't been able to hit that man where it hurt? She had plenty of opportunities to ruin Hayes' life later, but spending time with her husband was rare. She had to take advantage when she still had time.
She knew she shouldn't, that she was merely asking for trouble if she said yes. It was far too early in the novel for her to mess around, but her desires were easily overpowering her needs. How could it not, when she wasn't truly putting up a fight? She might not be as young as she looked; she might not be fully human; but in the end, she was still just a woman.
"System, alert me if the circle's consciousness suddenly goes active," she murmured quietly, knowing the System was always watching, "and if Marianne has a close encounter with the other main leads."
"Yes, Host," the System replied.
"I would love to join you," she said to Calix, containing her excitement with a close-lipped smile, hiding her trembling hands behind her back.
Just once. Once. She could snatch a moment for herself and her husband to be together. Tomorrow and until she completed her missions, she'd refocus her attention to completing her tasks and make sure she'd live through. But right now, she'd have this moment.
There was nothing wrong with a bit of indulging, wasn't it?