"Come on... Can't you have a little sympathy for me?" Bimo kept trying to rile her up while they were at the basecamp.
Arya had just wrapped up a quick meeting with Gani to discuss monthly expenses, utility bills, and other household costs. Meanwhile, Gani was busy doing maintenance on their club’s app.
Letting out a sigh, Arya slumped back into her plush chair. "If you're asking to skip lower-paying clients just to prioritize higher-paying ones, that's not fair to them, Bim. They've been waiting for their turn, so why should they have to wait longer just to suit your needs? You're working in a service industry—you have to understand these kinds of things."
"Yeah, but what about my credit card bills? And I'm already maxed out on the club's petty cash. I can't borrow any more."
"Maybe you should cut down on your drinking habit," Fadela interjected suddenly. "Seriously, opening a table just to look cool in front of your hedonistic friends? What's the point?"
"Exactly!" Justin pointed a finger at him. "Or how about less traveling abroad? An even simpler solution—just apologize to your dad and ask for allowance again. If you really want to go against your old man, take a cue from Arya. The moment she moved out, she started her own business. And you? Still partying without a care!"
"Shut up, all of you!" Bimo snapped, visibly annoyed. "I didn’t ask for your opinions on how I live my life!"
Both Fadela and Justin quickly backed off. Fadela made an excuse to head off to Judo practice, while Justin went out to buy groceries for the month.
"I can cut you some slack and offer a way out," Arya said after a pause. "For the next three weeks, the limit of taking only three jobs a week won’t apply to you. So, you can take four to five jobs a week, but they still have to go through the app’s queue system. Deal?" She extended her hand toward him.
Bimo's face lit up instantly as he shook Arya’s hand. "Deal!"
"But make sure to maintain the quality. I don’t want your ratings to drop any further. Overworking yourself will just ruin your performance," Arya added. "You already have the lowest ratings among us, Bim. It's because you're overexerting yourself, getting exhausted, and letting the service quality slip."
"Yeah, yeah. Got it. Now, excuse me, I’ve got a job in two hours. Bye!" Bimo rushed off.
Arya sighed, rubbing her temples. "Do you think three weeks is too long?" she asked, glancing over at Gani, who was absorbed in his laptop.
"Yeah, it’s a bit much. But at least it’ll keep him from complaining," Gani shrugged.
"Next time, try supervising Bimo’s jobs. Sample his services and see how he’s handling things. You’re the one who knows best what standards I want in our Host Club."
"Sure, tomorrow,” Gani nodded. “But you also told me to train Alwin. When’s he starting? Are you sure you can handle him?"
"Oh, right! Speaking of him, did Justin give you any updates on the investigation into Alwin’s accident two years ago?"
"He did. He handed it to me this morning during class." Gani reached into his bag and pulled out a folder containing police records.
"That kid is impressive. Recruiting him was a good call, being a general's son and all," Arya said in admiration as she flipped through the police report.
"I skimmed through it. In short, they were returning from the state team swimming preliminaries. The accident happened when a heavy vehicle driver fell asleep and swerved, causing a chain collision. The car carrying their swim team was crushed between two heavy trucks. No one survived. Everyone was trapped inside until they died. Miraculously, Alwin was pulled out alive and became the sole survivor, though he was in a coma at the time."
Arya’s eyes lingered on the crime scene photos. A crushed car wedged between two large trucks, the swim team still inside, soaked in blood.
The victims were still alive when the photos were taken, pinned in the wreckage until death claimed them.
Then came photos of their bloodied bodies, finally pulled out five hours after the crash. Among the reports was a profile photo of Alwin, labeled as the only survivor, who had been comatose at the time.
"Additional info—Alwin was set to represent the state in nationals and later in an international championship," Gani continued. "Imagine all the effort he put in to make the national team, only to have it all taken away by something completely beyond his control."
Arya swallowed hard.
"And when he finally woke up, he was alone, with all his teammates gone, and two years had already passed. Too much to process all at once, not to mention the painful recovery. It’s no wonder he’s battling depression."
Arya gave Gani a long, steady look. "You’re really an empath, aren’t you?" she said, impressed.
Gani shrugged, uncomfortable with her praise. Arya leaned forward to peek up at his face. "What?"
"Nothing. I’m just proud to have you in our club. I hope when we eventually turn this into a legit business corporation, you’ll still be by my side."
"My current earnings are much better in coding, just so you know," Gani muttered. "But—"
"But you enjoy this job," Arya cut in, tying her hair into a high ponytail. "You know you can do more in this club. It gives you a break from staring at screens all day and reconnecting with real life. That’s why you’re my trusted right-hand here. I’m lucky to have you," she said with another smile.
Gani's cheeks flushed a deep red. Arya always knew how to genuinely appreciate someone.
"Oh, what time is it? I’m running late." Arya glanced at her watch. "I have to take care of Looney. You can head home, Gani. It’s fine."
"All good. You go handle Alwin!" he said with a grin.
After Arya left, Gani turned back to the club's financial spreadsheets. As he worked, his mind wandered to the first time he met Arya.
They had been friends since middle school. Back then, Gani was nothing like he was now—just a small, geeky boy who faded into the background until puberty hit.
Yet Arya had seen something in Gani long before he grew taller and his features became defined. They had been friends since the days when Gani was constantly bullied by the popular kids at their school.
That was Arya’s skill all along. When Gani thought about it, he realized he wasn’t special in that regard. Because that’s just who Arya was—she always had an eye for spotting potential in others.
But as close as anyone got to Arya, she remained unattainable. She never had a boyfriend. Never showed any romantic interest in anyone.
Her only interest seemed to lie in the people she would recruit into the club. Gani was the first person Arya had recruited three years ago, followed by Bimo, Fadela, and most recently, Justin.
Gani picked up Alwin's profile photo from the stolen police report that Justin had taken from his father’s office, studying that face intently. He couldn't help but wonder: what exactly did Arya see in this guy?
Why was she going through so much trouble to recruit him?
Alwin was damaged goods, someone hard to fix. What made Arya go out of her way to secure him?
Out of the four of them, Alwin was by far the most uncooperative and troublesome candidate. He would definitely become even more of a headache once he officially joined.
Gani would bet on it.
*
Bimo double-checked the contents of his bag one more time before stepping out of his car. He pulled out a few items and laid them on the passenger seat: condoms, lubricant, and a few other accessories.
Once he was sure everything was accounted for, he packed them back into his bag. His client tonight had claimed to be straight, but for some reason, he had specifically requested the services of a male host.
"Probably just curious," Bimo mused to himself.
He glanced again at the documents attached to the client's profile, particularly checking the age on the ID photo. The client's name was Haidar, a private sector employee. They were five years apart in age. From the looks of the ID photo, Haidar seemed to have a decent appearance.
"Not too bad," Bimo thought.
He spat out the mint gum he'd been chewing, then stepped out of his car and made his way toward a building with a banner that read "Exclusive Boarding House, Rooms Available."
After sending a quick text to confirm his arrival, he waited only a moment before a young man, who Bimo guessed was Haidar, came to the gate and unlocked it.
"Haidar?" Bimo asked, just to be sure.
"Yeah," Haidar replied curtly, stepping aside to let Bimo in before locking the gate behind him.
Without exchanging any further pleasantries, Haidar turned and led the way toward his room on the second floor. Bimo followed, noting the dampness of Haidar’s hair—an indication that he had already showered, per the club’s protocol for clients before a meeting.
Haidar had booked a three-hour session, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t the type who enjoyed small talk. His room was at the end of a long corridor, and once they reached it, he gestured for Bimo to enter with a quick, almost impatient motion before following in and locking the door behind them.
The atmosphere inside the room was tense, heavy with unspoken expectations. Bimo could sense the client's nerves, and as usual in situations like these, he knew he’d have to break the ice to make things easier.
"Nice place you’ve got here," Bimo began casually, trying to ease the tension. "How much is the rent for a room in this boarding house per month?"
Haidar stared at him for a moment, clearly uninterested in conversation, his expression cold and detached. He didn't bother to respond, simply watching Bimo with a guarded look.
Taking the hint, Bimo nodded to himself, deciding not to push it. He set his bag on the small desk in the corner of the room and began unpacking the contents. “Alright, let’s get started then...,” he said, letting his tone drop into a more professional, yet relaxed, demeanor.
Bimo was used to clients like Haidar—those who didn’t want to waste time with chit-chat. For some, this was purely transactional; no need to complicate things with personal connections. And Bimo, experienced as he was, knew how to adapt to whatever the client needed—whether it was warmth and charm or just silent professionalism.
As he laid out the items on the desk, he glanced over at Haidar, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed, his posture tense and hands gripping the sheets as if bracing himself.
“Relax,” Bimo said softly, turning back to Haidar with a reassuring smile. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
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