Heren
All other Chinese-style names have been anglicized or clarified.
Target word count: ~1800 word
Rayden Wolfe raised his glass and pointed dramatically at Adam. "This guy right here—he's my good brother! Whoever takes care of him tonight gets a reward!"
Wesley He, always the loudest in the room, bellowed, "You heard him! The prize money is coming out of my pocket!"
Instantly, the glitter in the eyes of the surrounding models intensified. Their attention turned sharply to Adam, who had been quietly trying to blend into the background.
Though dressed like a low-key bodyguard, Adam's tall and upright posture, clean-cut jawline, and fierce aura gave him a commanding presence. His cold gaze, honed by battlefield experience, only added to his dangerous charm.
Two models broke from the group and practically pounced on him.
"Hi handsome, what's your name?"
"You look way too serious. Come have a drink with me!"
A thick waft of perfume hit Adam like a wall. He glanced sideways at the women—and immediately regretted it. Their faces were caked in heavy makeup, unnaturally smooth from cosmetic surgeries, and their giggles pierced his ears.
The God of War… reduced to this? he thought bitterly.
In the past, the daughters of nobility would've begged to enter his chambers—and he'd reject most of them outright. He had standards. These women were not it.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Mr. Wolfe, I think I'll pass..."
Rayden laughed and waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, just relax. Let loose a little! Tonight's a celebration—don't be shy with your own brother!"
"Yeah!" Wesley chimed in, raising his glass. "You're a man, right? Then sit your ass down and enjoy!"
Caught in a corner, Adam grit his teeth. To maintain his role and gain Rayden's full trust, he forced himself to endure. He sat stiffly, letting the women cling to him while they giggled and poured him drinks. One casually rested her arm around his shoulder while another leaned in far too close, brushing against him with every exaggerated movement.
Rayden, watching the chaos unfold, chuckled into his drink.
A rare sight indeed—seeing the unshakable God of War flustered like this. He leaned back in satisfaction. Absolutely priceless.
Just then, Wesley stood up with a drink in hand. "Brother Ray, I gotta toast you properly!"
Before Rayden could respond, Rachel, who had been quietly sipping her mocktail beside him, leaned forward with a chilly expression.
"My boss has to work first thing in the morning. No alcohol tonight, or you'll screw up tomorrow's business."
Rayden nodded immediately like a student who'd been caught misbehaving. "She's right. I have an early meeting. Better not push it."
Wesley pouted like a child denied candy. "Really? Bro, you come to my bar and don't drink? What's the point of this party then? If this gets out, my reputation will be ruined!"
Rayden chuckled awkwardly and then clapped Adam on the back. "How about this—my brother Adam here drinks with you instead?"
Wesley's eyes lit up. "Brother Adam? I like the sound of that. Let's go!"
Adam's expression immediately twisted with unease. "Mr. Wolfe, that's not really appropriate… I'm the driver tonight."
Rayden gave him a sly grin. "Don't worry about the car—I'll drive it myself. Just enjoy yourself and don't kill the vibe."
After a moment's hesitation, Adam nodded. Fine. What's a few drinks? I've held my own against worse.
Back in the day, he'd downed bottles during victory celebrations with fellow warlords. They'd fallen under the table long before he even got buzzed.
He picked up the glass and drained it in one go.
"Nice!" Wesley clapped. "Now that's what I call a proper brother! Another round!"
Rayden, watching them go back and forth, smiled and muttered quietly to himself, "System, if I make a wish, will only the closest protagonist double the result? Or do they all get affected?"
Ding!
"Heaven's Path setting prioritizes proximity. Closest protagonist receives the effect. Great for face-slapping moments!"
Rayden grinned devilishly. "Perfect. I make a wish to get instantly drunk tonight… but in a way that makes me ecstatic and wildly energetic!"
Ding! Wish granted.
At that moment, Adam polished off another glass. But this one hit differently. A warmth surged through him, dizzying and sharp.
"What the hell… this wine is something else," he muttered.
He tried to shake it off, but his vision began to blur. His face flushed red, and his eyes began to gloss over.
"I don't… I don't get drunk…" he murmured unsteadily.
His words slurred.
Then, without warning, Adam slammed his glass down, refilled it, and shouted with manic energy, "Another one! Drink! If you're a man, drink with me! Anyone who doesn't is a coward!"
Wesley glanced at Rayden with raised eyebrows and laughed. "Your guy's got some fire in him!"
"Drink!" Adam shouted again, pouring for everyone.
And so the drinking war began.
Red wine. White wine. Whiskey. Brandy. Vodka. You name it—they drank it.
Bottle after bottle emptied, clinking and stacking on the table like war trophies.
After a dozen rounds, Wesley collapsed onto the leather couch, his shirt half-unbuttoned and belly protruding.
"I'm… done. Can't feel my face. Drink without me… urgh."
Adam scoffed at him. "Lightweight. Just a few bottles and you're out?"
The two models clinging to Adam squealed with delight.
"Oppa, you're so cool! You're a tank!"
"I love a man who can drink!"
Adam grinned, drunk and uninhibited. "That's nothing. I'm even braver in bed."
The two girls giggled uncontrollably and leaned closer, clearly enjoying the attention.
Adam's hands grew bolder, openly holding both models by the waist, laughing crudely.
Rachel, watching the spectacle, narrowed her eyes.
The disgust on her face was barely concealed. She turned to Rayden with a frosty tone.
"Seriously? Is this what you call 'brotherly bonding'?"
Rayden, who was sipping a soda and enjoying the show, froze mid-drink.
She rolled her eyes and muttered sharply, "Men are all the same—absolutely shameless."
Rayden lowered his glass slowly, trying not to choke. "Hey now… that wasn't me…"
Rachel turned away in a huff and crossed her arms, leaving him to stew in awkward silence.
Rayden let out a sigh. "Why do I always get the blame for his actions…"
Later that night, with half the lounge passed out, and the music still blaring on stage, Rayden sat back and smiled.
The God of War, drunk and clinging to two bimbos, Wesley knocked out, Rachel silently fuming next to him.
And all he had to do… was sit back and enjoy the chaos.
A night well spent.🥵
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