"Great, I love choosing names the most."

  "This name will represent your traits, hinting at your position in the food chain," Dylan said.

  Elian lowered his head in thought. A few seconds later, he spoke:

  "Thunder Giant Long-nosed Deep-sea Wrinkled Spotted Sea Slug?"

  "What is that?" Dylan's mouth twitched. "And why do you remember such a long name?"

  "Because that creature doesn't exist."

  "Alright, little guy, you can't use a nonexistent creature as your codename," Dylan sighed, sounding somewhat helpless.

  "You should have said so earlier. Got my hopes up for nothing."

  "You could use codenames like Elk, Springbok, that sort of thing. How about it?"

  "Why are they all herbivore names? Are you hinting that I should just let myself be slaughtered?" Elian began to feel displeased.

  "I'm just giving suggestions. What do you want then?"

  "Hmm... I've decided. Just call me Frog," Elian said rather casually.

  "Frog... that sounds like a rather unalluring codename."

  "But it suits me. Think about it, don't I have to jump over many obstacles in competitions? A jumping creature like a frog is perfect for me."

  "Alright... whatever makes you happy." Dylan couldn't help but laugh.

  The "Finch" at the counter noticeably paused for a moment upon hearing Elian's codename, but quickly composed himself and brought out a register.

  "And your real name? We still need it for the record."

  Just as Elian was about to give his name, Dylan's hand stopped him.

  "I'll vouch for him."

  The counter person looked at Dylan, then finally nodded.

  "You know the rules, Crimson Fox. Guests can only move in designated areas," the person at the counter said.

  "Of course, I'll keep an eye on him."

  The counter person handed Elian a plain-colored mask. Although its design wasn't as intricate as the Crimson Fox's, it still carried a vague sense of prestige.

  "This is your mask. Guest level."

  Once the mask was on, the young man followed Dylan into the interior of the Jungle.

  "Enjoy yourself, my frog prince," Dylan said, moving as if to kiss the young man's wrist like a medieval duke, but was waved off.

  Not the least bit annoyed, Dylan simply laughed and walked with Elian deeper into the crowd.

  In the center of a stage, a person wearing revealing black leather rope attire and a zebra mask was slowly turning. Lights pierced through cage-like metal frames, casting stripes across their bare skin. Below the stage, several people wearing different beast masks were huddled together, discussing in low voices.

  "That waistline is quite good. Must have been trained."

  "But I preferred the previous one, that scarred Sika deer... more wild."

  Elian glanced at the group. He understood now; this was essentially a zoo auction.

  Except what they were auctioning were flesh and desire.

  And he swore he saw a few "items for sale" with slight builds who still carried a hint of childishness.

  God, were they even adults?

  Just as he was about to turn away, a flicker in his peripheral vision caught his attention—Dylan had somehow already blended into a crowd of attractive men and women.

  He was lounging on a sofa, his mask slightly askew, his lips locked in a fervent kiss with a blond man, while his hand was brazenly sliding over another woman's waist. The woman let out a sensual gasp, her smooth thigh directly wrapping around Dylan's waist, pulling him even closer.

  Elian raised an eyebrow and scoffed.

  "It seems Mr. Fitzgerald is going to have a wonderful night with... 'many' people."

  He shook his head, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned away from that area.

  Elian wasn't a stranger to other clubs. He wasn't averse to the almost overflowing hormonal atmosphere here. It was just that compared to the physically intense games of passion, he usually preferred the music in such places. Of course, provided the DJ's taste aligned with his.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Walking down a dim corridor, he arrived at the dance floor area. The atmosphere here was completely different—softer lighting and a brisk rhythm.

  The speakers played a finely mixed electronic track, the beat deep and fluid, interwoven with the alluring murmurs of a female vocal, creating an addictive rhythm.

  Elian stood at the edge, initially just wanting to listen quietly, but that perfectly balanced rhythm seemed to quietly take hold of his nerves. He nodded slightly, then unconsciously began to sway with the beat.

  His arm was suddenly grabbed. Elian turned around.

  "You dance really well. I've been watching you for a while," a middle-aged man with a slightly out-of-shape build said, his voice heavy with breath.

  "Uh... thanks."

  Elian tried to pull his arm back, but found the other party had no intention of letting go, instead leaning in closer.

  "What's your codename?" The man wearing a crocodile mask pressed closer, his tone suggestive.

  "Frog."

  The man clearly wasn't expecting this answer. He paused for a second, then laughed and leaned in again. "Are you with someone?"

  Elian frowned. The other man's hips were almost pressing against him, and in this crowded dance floor, he couldn't immediately get away.

  Just as he was preparing a response, a voice abruptly interjected.

  "He's mine."

  It was Dylan Fitzgerald.

  He had approached at some point, his collar slightly disheveled, still bearing a few faint lipstick marks.

  The crocodile-masked man frowned, clearly displeased with Dylan's interruption. He snorted coldly, his gaze shifting from Elian to Dylan. He seemed about to retort, but upon clearly seeing the fox mask, he swallowed his curses.

  "So it's 'Crimson Fox'... changed beauties again today?"

  "Changed today, might change again tomorrow, who knows? Maybe 'Hare', 'Yellow Finch', or 'Long-tailed Sheep'," Dylan listed off his lovers' codenames one by one.

  "But it definitely won't be yours," Dylan said with a laugh.

  "Crocodile" looked the man over again. Traces of intimacy still lingered at the corner of his mouth, yet his eyes held an uncharacteristic seriousness.

  A flicker of hesitation passed through him; he wasn't keen on clashing with "Crimson Fox."

  Then, wisely, he withdrew his hand and melted back into the crowd of the dance floor by himself.

  "He's gone," Dylan said, while simultaneously lowering his head to straighten the wrinkled cuff on Elian's sleeve, his movements intimate, almost like a lover's.

  Elian raised an eyebrow. "I thought you went off to... 'enjoy yourself'. Why are you back?"

  Dylan lifted his eyes, a fox-like smile curling beneath his mask. "What can I do? My frog nearly got kissed by someone else the moment I wasn't looking. That won't do. They might discover the handsome prince hidden beneath."

  "You're really annoying..." Elian rolled his eyes and averted his gaze.

  Crimson Fox leaned in even closer, almost whispering into his ear. "But you didn't refuse me coming to your rescue, did you?"

  Elian moved away. Crimson Fox didn't mind, instead pulling him towards a semi-open booth.

  The booth was decorated with gauze curtains and metal filigree, with hazy light filtering through the gaps. After pulling Elian inside, Dylan deftly retrieved a small vial of transparent crystalline powder from an inner pocket, along with a thin sheet of gold leaf and a torch lighter.

  "What's that?" Elian asked.

  The other didn't answer immediately.

  After inhaling the mixture, Crimson Fox leaned close, his amber eyes locking onto Elian's, then slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke that brushed past Elian's nose and lips, enveloping him like a gentle yet dangerous mist.

  "This is the antidote to heaven," Crimson Fox said.

  Elian leaned back, frowning deeply, but his gaze inadvertently fixed on Dylan's eyes.

  They were a beautiful pair of amber eyes. Through the gap in the mask, they glittered with an intoxicating sheen in the interplay of light and shadow, like a wild beast lurking deep in the forest. The mask covering his face was outlined with ruby inlays and delicate gold threads, shimmering faintly with his breath.

  "I think if you inhale a bit more, you'll meet God directly."

  Elian pondered the safety of that unknown smoke.

  "That suits me just fine. Pity God probably wouldn't want to take me in," Dylan leaned back on the sofa, laughing.

  Then he pulled a small vial from his inner pocket, casually pouring the liquid inside into an unknown mixed drink. Without even stirring it, he downed it in one gulp, the movement of his Adam's apple carrying a dangerous sort of pleasure.

  Elian was taken aback. He saw Dylan's pupils dilate slightly within a few seconds. His body seemed to sink into a deeper level of intoxication, his breathing becoming light, even trembling slightly.

  He realized Dylan was on some strange and potent substance.

  "Want some?" Dylan asked, narrowing his eyes.

  "No thanks. Life might not be just the equestrian grounds, but it definitely doesn't include this stuff."

  The young man pushed the strange drink away without hesitation.

  "Don't act so high and mighty," Dylan scoffed. "There are no exceptions here. Once you enter the Jungle, you have to accept its rules."

  "And what if I end up like... the skeleton on an anti-drug poster?" Elian rolled his eyes again.

  "I'll be right beside you then," Dylan's tone was ambiguous, murmuring as if reciting a vow. "Heaven is very lonely; not many can go there. But hell is lively; I'll be waiting there."

  Now the young man thoroughly regretted coming to this damned club. Dylan seemed determined to give him a 'wonderful' drug experience. Though he wasn't forcing him, he was being incredibly persistent and troublesome.

  Elian frowned, contemplating the possibility of knocking the other out and leaving by himself.

  —However, he noticed Dylan seemed to have already lost his ability to move?

  The man's smile still lingered at the corner of his mouth, but his body was gradually stiffening. His breathing became erratic, his fingers trembling so much he almost dropped his cigarette.

  "Strange..." Dylan muttered, sounding confused by the effects for the first time. "This shouldn't be..."

  His gaze grew unfocused, his body swayed, and then he suddenly went completely limp, collapsing.

  "Problem with the drug?" Elian asked uneasily.

  "Not the drug," Dylan's voice grew hoarse, alertness surfacing in his eyes. "I've done this stuff plenty; I know the dosage. But this dizziness... something's wrong."

  He stared at the glass in his hand, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "I'm afraid the drink was spiked."

  As soon as the words left his mouth, a commotion erupted outside the booth. An angry roar pierced through the door: "Crimson Fox! When the hell are you delivering the goods you owe, you bastard!"

  The door was violently kicked open. Several burly men wearing black crow and canine beast masks barged in.

  They wore metal knuckledusters, their footsteps heavy, their eyes coldly fixed on Dylan. Elian barely had time to react before he saw one of them swing a liquor bottle, smashing it hard against Dylan's head—

  A dull thud sounded as the bottle exploded against Dylan's head. Shards of glass mixed with liquor flew. Dylan's head snapped to the side, and his whole body slumped into the sofa. Blood immediately gushed forth, flowing into his eyes.