Chapter 2

"AAAHHHHH!!!!!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs, raising the vase above my head.

If this criminal so much as twitched in my direction, I was going to bring the thing down on his head. I wasn't taking any chances. I had no intention of becoming a murder victim in my own apartment.

Apparently, my scream startled him.

The man jerked awake, rolled sideways, and tumbled straight off the couch.

“AAACK!”

He hit the cold floor with a heavy thud.

I flinched but tightened my grip on the vase.

The black jacket was still draped over his face.

“W-Who are you?” I demanded.

My voice came out shakier than I would have liked.

I took several cautious steps backward, putting as much distance as possible between us while keeping the vase raised.

“Who are you?” I repeated, louder this time. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

The man groaned.

For a moment, he didn't answer.

Then, slowly, he reached up and pulled the jacket away from his face.

I froze.

...Whoa.

My jaw dropped. My eyes widened.

The criminal was... handsome.

No.

Handsome wasn't enough.

This man was ridiculously handsome.

His brown hair was slightly messy, as though he'd just woken up from a deep sleep, but somehow that only made him look more attractive. His features were sharp and well-defined, and his eyes, dark, narrow, and almost unnervingly intense seemed to pierce straight through me.

He had a lean, perfectly proportioned figure beneath his clothes. The kind of figure that could make a fashion designer stop mid-sentence and start sketching.

If this man wanted to become a model, I was pretty sure half the fashion industry would fight over him.

It was almost insulting.

Someone this handsome had chosen to become a criminal? What a waste.

“Yo-You...” I stammered, quickly remembering the situation. “Who are you?”

He rolled his eyes and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

“D-Don't move!”

I raised the vase higher.

He stopped.

For a few seconds, we simply stared at each other.

He looked at me as though I were the strange one.

I, meanwhile, was trying to decide whether the vase would actually knock him unconscious or simply make me look ridiculous.

“I knew you were going to react like this,” he muttered.  “And this is exactly why I hate introductions,” he added.

His voice was deep and husky, with a faint hint of irritation.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed.

“Do I really have to introduce myself again?”

He took one step toward me.

“Stop!”

I immediately raised the vase higher.

“Stop right there!”

He froze.

“Okay! Okay... calm down.”

He slowly lifted both hands in surrender. His expression was strangely helpless.

“I really hate the introduction part,” he muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

He cleared his throat.

Then, almost sheepishly, he asked, “Can we skip the introduction part?”

For one horrifying second, I almost fell for his innocent expression.

Almost.

“No.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Now tell me who you are and what you're doing here.”

I pointed the vase at him.

“In my apartment.”

The man sighed again, his hands dropping to his sides.

“My name is Toby.”

He said it so casually that I almost lowered the vase.

Then he continued.

“I'm your boyfriend.”

I blinked.

He smiled.

“And your future husband.”

Silence.

“...What?”

My voice came out several octaves higher.

He simply stared at me.

I nearly dropped the vase.

“Are you kidding me?! Boyfriend? Future husband?! I don't even know you!”

I pointed at him accusingly.

“You crazy pervert!”

He rubbed his right ear as though my shouting had physically hurt him.

Then, to my absolute disbelief, the corner of his mouth lifted.

It was the sexiest smirk I'd ever seen.

“You know me, Lara Hayes.”

My blood ran cold.

“H-How do you know my name?”

His expression changed.

The amusement disappeared, replaced by something that looked almost sympathetic.

“Well...” He paused. “About last night...”

My stomach dropped.

Last night?

What had happened last night?

Before I could ask, a strange memory flashed through my mind.

A dim room.

A strange man.

A ridiculous conversation.

My face paled.

“Oh, no...”

LAST NIGHT

“Welcome...”

I stared at the strange man standing in front of me.

He was wearing black glasses despite the fact that it was already late at night.

Was he blind?

Probably not.

He had somehow managed to greet me and lead me into this bizarre room without walking into anything.

The room itself looked like something straight out of a fortune-teller's shop.

Or a shaman's office. Or perhaps a nightmare.

The walls were painted a deep blood red, making the small room feel strangely suffocating. A purple curtain hung along one wall, while a red sofa sat in the corner beneath it. Between us stood a low wooden table covered with an unnecessarily extravagant gold tablecloth.

The only light in the entire room came from a lamp directly above the strange man. It illuminated him like he was standing on a stage.

I staggered toward the sofa and collapsed onto it.

The moment I sat down, the entire room seemed to tilt.

The walls swayed.

The ceiling spun.

Even the strange man seemed to multiply into two... then three.

“Aishh...”

I pressed my fingers against my temple.

I really needed to stop drinking. I had made that promise before.

Several times, actually.

And apparently, I was going to have to make it again.

I squinted at the man.

“Who are you?”

I pointed at him.

He chuckled.

“I am your angel.”

I stared.

“I'm going to save your life.”

He gave me an enormous smile.

I burst out laughing.

“Ttch... Hey! I'm drunk, not stupid.”

I waved my hand dismissively.

“How could an angel look like you?”

His smile twitched.

He looked offended.

“Ehem.”

He straightened his posture.

“My name is H.E.X.”

He paused dramatically.

“Harlan Ezekiel Xavier.”

I stared at him.

Then I covered my mouth.

I was dangerously close to throwing up.

“...What?”

He didn't seem to notice or simply didn't care about the look of disgust on my face. With the same ridiculous smile plastered across his face, he proudly continued his introduction.

“Welcome to Adopt-a-Guy! A store promising a high-end shopping experience for women searching for Mr. Right!”

He spread his arms dramatically.

“Choosing your own guy has never been this easy!” he winked.

I stared at him.

This man was definitely weird.

“What?”

“Adopt-a-Guy,” he repeated proudly.

“Just tell me your problem. Give me the criteria of the man you want in your life, and we will provide him for you.”

I blinked.

Then my drunken brain processed his words.

“You can really do that?”

Suddenly, I was interested.

He nodded confidently.

I leaned forward.

Don't judge me.

I was lonely.

Very lonely.

I was twenty-seven years old, a virgin, and I had never been in love.

Not once.

How pathetic was that?

“So...” He leaned closer. “What kind of guy are you looking for?”

I giggled.

Then I started imagining my perfect man.

“Hmm...”

I held up one finger.

“I want a perfect guy.”

Another finger.

“Handsome.”

Another.

“Sexy.”

Another.

“Tall.”

I paused.

“And he has to have a model's figure.”

I smiled dreamily.

“The most important thing is...”

I clasped my hands together.

“I want every woman to be jealous whenever they see me with him.”

I looked at him expectantly.

“Do you have someone like that?”

He stared at me for a moment.

Then, without warning, he burst into laughter.

Not a small chuckle.

Not even a polite laugh.

He threw his head back and laughed so loudly that his shoulders shook. The sound echoed strangely through the dim room, making the already bizarre atmosphere feel even more ridiculous.

I stared at him.

My drunken smile slowly disappeared.

What was so funny?

A minute passed.

He was still laughing.

Another minute.

Still laughing.

I began to feel offended.

I folded my arms across my chest and frowned at him.

“What?”

He finally noticed my irritated expression and tried to suppress his laughter, pressing his lips together. It didn't work. A snort escaped him, and he quickly turned his face away.

My cheeks puffed up.

Was my dream really that ridiculous?

I sank deeper into the sofa and sighed.

Well... maybe it was impossible.

A man who was handsome, sexy, tall, perfectly built, and, most importantly, single? Someone like that probably didn't exist.

And even if he did, there was no way he'd be available.

A man like that would probably have women lining up around the block just to get his attention. He was definitely already taken.

My shoulders slumped at the thought.

Just as I was about to give up on my ridiculous fantasy, the strange man finally stopped laughing.

He straightened his glasses and looked at me with a strangely confident smile.

“You came to the right place.”

My head immediately lifted.

“Really?”

I leaned forward, suddenly interested again.

“You actually have someone like that?”

He nodded proudly.

The confidence in his expression made me suspicious, but my curiosity quickly won.

“He is handsome,” he said.

My eyes brightened.

“He is sexy.”

My smile grew wider.

“He has the figure of a top model.”

I clasped my hands together, my imagination already running wild.

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

“He is...”

He suddenly paused.

His smile faded into a mysterious expression as he leaned slightly closer.

I waited.

“And?”

He narrowed his eyes dramatically.

“He's expensive.”

My smile vanished.

“...Expensive?”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the air conditioner.

I blinked several times.

Then I shrugged.

“So?”

The strange man raised an eyebrow.

“Money isn't important to me.”

I straightened proudly and tapped my chest.

“I have plenty of money.”

His expression changed immediately.

His eyes widened behind his glasses.

“Really?”

I nodded confidently.

“I'm Lara Hayes.”

I said my name with such pride that, for some reason, I expected him to applaud.

Instead, his face lit up.

He rubbed his hands together excitedly, and a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Well, in that case...”

He leaned forward.

“Let's proceed, shall we?”

I nodded enthusiastically.

At that moment, with alcohol clouding my judgment and my imagination running wild, I had absolutely no idea what I was agreeing to.

If I had known...

I would have walked out of that strange room immediately.

I would have ignored the handsome man I hadn't even met yet.

And, most importantly, I would have kept my signature far away from that contract.

Unfortunately...

I knew none of that at the time.

PRESENT

“Oh... no.”

I covered my mouth as the memory came crashing back.

My stomach twisted. My legs suddenly felt weak beneath me, and I had to steady myself.

The strange room.

That ridiculous man.

The contract.

The guy.

My guy.

I slowly turned my eyes toward the man standing in front of me.

Toby was watching me carefully, his expression becoming increasingly concerned as the color drained from my face.

“Are you okay?”

I couldn't answer.

My fingers had gone numb.

The vase slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull clunk before rolling across the wooden floor. It spun lazily for a few seconds before coming to a stop near his feet.

I didn't even look at it.

I was too busy staring at him.

“You...”

My voice came out barely above a whisper.

“How much?”

He blinked.

Then scratched the back of his neck, looking strangely uncomfortable.

“About 50 grand.”

My eyes widened.

“WHAT?!”

He flinched and immediately took a step backward.

“Or... maybe a little less?”

“So...” I stared at him in disbelief. “I paid 50 grand for a guy?”

“You didn't pay for me.”

He frowned, looking almost offended.

“You adopted me.”

He deliberately emphasized the word adopted.

“Whatever!”

I grabbed both sides of my head.

“This can't be real.”

I shook my head, desperately trying to convince myself that I was still dreaming.

“No. No, something is wrong.”

I looked at him again.

Then a thought struck me.

My eyes narrowed.

“You...”

I pointed accusingly at him.

“And that weird man...”

My suspicion grew with every word.

“You two are working together, aren't you?”

His eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“You're trying to scam me!”

I marched toward him.

He instinctively backed away.

“I'll call the police.”

“Wait.”

“I'll tell them everything.”

“Lara—”

“I'll report both of you for breaking into my apartment and trying to extort money from me.”

He kept retreating until his back finally met the wall.

There was nowhere left for him to go.

His eyes widened.

“You can't do that!”

I stopped in front of him.

A smug smile slowly crept across my face.

“Aha.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“So you are scared.”

“I'm not scared.”

“Yes.. You are.” I smirked.

“I said I'm not.”

“You don't want to end up in prison with that weird guy, do you?”

“I—”

I reached forward and poked him lightly on the nose.

“Scaredy cat.”

“Heyy!”

He immediately slapped my hand away, his face twisting with annoyance.

“You already signed a contract!”

I froze.

“...Contract?”

He stared at me.

“Yes.”

“What contract?”

He let out a long, exhausted sigh, as though he had been expecting this question.

Without another word, he walked past me and returned to the couch. His black jacket was still lying across one of the cushions.

He picked it up and began searching through the pockets.

For a moment, his fingers rummaged through the fabric.

Then he found what he was looking for.

A folded sheet of white paper.

He pulled it out and held it toward me.

I stared at it suspiciously.

“What is that?”

“The contract.”

My stomach sank.

Slowly, I reached out and took the paper from him.

The moment I unfolded it, my eyes began moving across the page.

CONTRACT OF AGREEMENT

With this contract, Lara Hayes, 27 years old, officially adopts Toby, 25 years old, on September 17, 2026, and sincerely donates $52,000 to Adopt-a-Guy.

By signing this contract, Lara Hayes agrees to all applicable requirements and willingly obeys the terms and conditions stated in here.

Thank you.

Lara Hayes

(signature)

I stared at the last line.

My eyes widened.

That signature...

It was mine.

I knew it immediately.

The familiar curve of the letters. The way I always dragged the last stroke of my surname slightly to the side.

There was no mistake. I had signed that paper.

My fingers tightened around the edges of the contract as I looked at it again, hoping, praying that somehow I was misreading it.

Maybe the alcohol had scrambled my memory.

Maybe this wasn't real.

Maybe someone had forged my signature.

My eyes moved slowly across the page.

Then they stopped at the date.

September 17, 2026.

I swallowed.

That was last night.

My gaze dropped lower.

$52,000.

I stared at the number.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

My brain refused to process it. My mouth fell open slightly.

“52... grand?”

The words came out as a weak whisper.

My throat had suddenly gone dry.

That was not pocket money. That was enough to buy a decent car. Enough to cover several months of expenses. Enough to make a perfectly sane person think twice before spending it.

And apparently...

I'd spent it while drunk.

On a man.

I slowly lifted my eyes from the paper.

The room seemed to have changed.

The bright morning sunlight coming through the windows suddenly felt too harsh. The refrigerator hummed quietly from the kitchen, and somewhere outside, a car drove past, its tires making a faint sound against the road.

Everything around me was perfectly normal.

Calm.

Ordinary.

Yet my entire life had somehow gone completely insane.

My heartbeat grew louder.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I could feel every beat against my ribs.

I looked at the contract again.

My name was still there.

My signature was still there.

The date was still there.

And the amount...

Unfortunately, that wasn't going anywhere either.

I slowly raised my eyes.

Toby was watching me.

He stood a few feet away, his black jacket hanging loosely from one hand. His expression was surprisingly calm, as if finding a strange man sleeping on your couch was an ordinary way to start the morning.

Meanwhile, I was one second away from having a nervous breakdown.

“Oh... my God.”

My voice trembled.

I lowered the paper and stared at him.

He didn't say anything.

I looked back at the contract, almost desperately, as though the words might suddenly rearrange themselves into something more reasonable.

They didn't.

I closed my eyes for a moment.

Maybe if I opened them again, everything would disappear.

The contract.

The strange apartment guest.

The entire Adopt-a-Guy nonsense.

I opened my eyes.

Nope.

He was still there.

I looked at him again.

That handsome face.

Those sharp eyes.

That annoyingly calm expression.

This man was apparently...

My boyfriend.

My adopted guy.

And, according to the ridiculous contract I'd apparently signed while drunk—

My future husband.

My stomach twisted.

“No...”

I shook my head slowly.

“This can't be happening.”

I took a step backward and sank onto the edge of the couch, still clutching the contract.

“I don't remember doing this.”

Toby tilted his head slightly.

“You don't remember anything?”

“I remember the wedding.”

“Okay.”

“I remember drinking.”

“That's good.”

“I remember going somewhere strange.”

“Also good.”

I pointed at the contract.

“But I don't remember adopting a human being!”

Toby blinked.

For a moment, he looked as though he didn't know how to respond.

Then he quietly cleared his throat.

“Technically... you didn't adopt a human being.”

I stared at him.

“You adopted me.”

I glared.

“That doesn't make it better!”

He immediately looked away.

“Right.”

I pressed my fingers against my temples.

A headache was beginning to pound behind my eyes again.

This was a nightmare.

It had to be.

There was absolutely no way I had spent 50 grand on a complete stranger because I was lonely and drunk.

And yet...

The evidence was sitting in my hands.

My signature was proof.

The contract was proof.

And the man standing in front of me was apparently the biggest proof of all.

I looked at Toby again.

He was staring back at me with an almost innocent expression.

Then, as though he couldn't help himself, he said,

“Technically, it's a legally binding agreement.”

I slowly lifted my head.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“That's what the contract says.”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither of us spoke.

Then I narrowed my eyes.

“Shut up.”

He immediately closed his mouth.

For several seconds, we remained completely silent.

I looked down at the contract one last time.

50 grand.

Gone.

A boyfriend.

Acquired.

A future husband.

Apparently included.

I slowly lowered the paper onto my lap.

And for the first time in my life, I seriously wondered whether money could buy happiness.

Because if it could...

I had just spent 50 fucking grand trying to buy it.

And somehow, I had ended up with a man sleeping on my couch instead.