Obsession's Edge: Alaska

"Ta... You're not joking, are you? You know I hate places like this," Ivy whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes staring hesitantly at the building before her.

A bar with dim lights glowing outside, accompanied by the booming music echoing beyond its walls. People were busy chatting, laughing, or dancing, as if the world only revolved around fleeting happiness.

Agata smirked and nudged Ivy's arm casually. "Stop complaining. You agreed to come with me, remember?" she said while grabbing Ivy's hand, pulling her forcefully through the crowd at the entrance.

Ivy's steps were heavy, her body rigid. Her heart rejected this place, but she lacked the strength to resist. She was the kind of person who preferred solitude—a bottle of wine in a dark room was enough for her. But tonight, Agata had dragged her out of her shell.

As they entered, the pounding music instantly filled the room, accompanied by flashing neon lights. Around them, people were busy downing drinks, dancing, or simply chatting. Smiles adorned their faces, as if all the world's problems had vanished behind bottles of liquor.

Agata guided Ivy to a corner of the room, where an empty table awaited. Once seated, Agata looked at Ivy seriously. "I know you don't like crowds, but you need to try something different. You can't keep locking yourself away in your misery."

Ivy sighed, her eyes avoiding her friend's gaze. But Agata had already ordered two bottles of wine and placed them on the table. She pushed one bottle toward Ivy. "Drink. Forget everything. Just for tonight."

Ivy stared at the bottle uncertainly before finally reaching for it. With trembling hands, she uncapped it and began drinking. The warm liquid flowed down her throat, burning away the pain embedded deep in her heart. The bittersweet taste was somehow better than the agony that had been tearing her apart since that night.

As time passed, Ivy started losing awareness of her surroundings. The pounding music and laughter in the bar felt distant, like echoes from another world. In front of her, empty bottles began to line up, a testament to her attempt to bury all her pain in alcohol.

Ivy's face flushed, not with anger but from the effects of the alcohol she drank without restraint. Her once-vacant eyes now brimmed with open wounds.

"Ta..." Ivy finally spoke, her voice hoarse and low. "Did you know... I saw them making love."

Agata stared at her sharply but stayed silent, letting Ivy continue.

"Darren and Luna..." Ivy let out a small laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "On that bed, they were moaning together. Luna... my own sister. My biological sister."

Tears began streaming down Ivy's face, mingling with the anger and sadness she could no longer contain. "How could they? How could they do this to me, Ta?!"

Agata gazed at Ivy with deep empathy. She wanted to say something but chose to remain silent. Ivy needed to let it all out.

"They destroyed me, Ta," Ivy continued, her voice now nearly a shout. "They took everything I had—my trust, my love... my life! And they don't even care!"

Agata finally reached out, placing a hand on Ivy's trembling one. "Vy..." she said softly, her voice gentle but firm. "You're right. They destroyed you. But you're Ivy Calista Jade. You won't let them win, will you?"

Ivy looked at Agata with tear-filled eyes, but there was a faint spark—an ember of anger transforming into resolve.

"No," Ivy murmured, her voice low but determined. "I won't let them win."

Agata nodded, her smirk returning. "Good. Now, finish your wine. This is just the beginning of your revenge, Vy."

Ivy nodded slightly, then lifted the bottle in her hand again. Sip by sip, she drained it, as if trying to drown the pain that haunted her. Across from her, Agata began to change. The alcohol coursing through her veins brought out a wilder, untamed side of the girl, one that craved attention.

"Ta, what are you doing?" Ivy asked, trying to focus amidst her spinning head. But her friend only chuckled, a sly smile spreading across her face.

"I'm having fun, Vy. You should join in too," Agata replied with a teasing tone before rising from her seat. She walked confidently toward the crowd, where the music pounded and bodies moved against each other shamelessly.

Ivy remained seated, her eyes following Agata as she disappeared into the chaos. In the crowd, Agata became the center of attention. Her flirtatious smile, the way her body moved to the rhythm, and her sharp gaze made her a magnet for the men around her.

Every now and then, a man would approach, pressing their bodies against Agata. She let them, even sharing brief kisses without hesitation. For Agata, tonight was about forgetting—rules didn't exist, and nothing else mattered.

But on the other side of the room, Ivy remained lost in her own world. She stared at the bottle in her hand, sipping its contents little by little. The chaos around her felt like a faint shadow, unable to penetrate the walls of sorrow surrounding her.

Ivy glanced up, scanning her surroundings with vacant eyes. In a few corners, couples were locked in embraces, kissing passionately, oblivious to the world around them. The sight pinched at her already bleeding heart. How easy happiness seemed in a place like this, even though she knew it was all just a fleeting escape.

Suddenly, Ivy's shaky legs carried her toward a quieter area, where the atmosphere felt heavy with tension. A large table sat in the center, surrounded by men in sharp suits. Their dominating aura was palpable, making the air feel oppressive.

Without realizing it, Ivy tripped over something. Her weak body lost balance and fell straight into the lap of one of the men seated there.

The room seemed to freeze in an instant. All eyes turned to Ivy, a disheveled, drunken girl now sprawled on the lap of Alaska Christopher Michael—a name that made everyone in the room hold their breath.

"Oh, look! This little girl must be seeking attention," one man in a gray suit sneered, laughing mockingly. His tone dripped with derision, while the others remained silent, waiting to see what Alaska would do.

Alaska, the man beneath Ivy, sat motionless. His gaze was sharp, cold as ice, revealing no emotion. His perfectly chiseled face remained unperturbed, but his eyes betrayed a simmering, dangerous fury.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to..." Ivy mumbled, her voice weak and slurred with shame and dizziness. She tried to get up, but her trembling hands only pressed against Alaska's chest, bringing her closer.

A heavy sigh escaped him. Alaska slowly raised a hand, as if to push Ivy away. But he stopped midway, as though restraining himself.

"Do you have any idea what you just did?" His voice was low and icy, reverberating like an unchallengeable command.

The room remained silent. Everyone at the VIP table knew who Alaska was. The young CEO of NeuroSphere was infamous for his ruthlessness, arrogance, and, most notably, his hatred of physical contact—especially from strangers.

"Ivy! What are you doing there?" Agata's panicked voice came from behind. She rushed over, her face pale at the sight of her friend in such an unfortunate position.

But before Agata could pull Ivy away, Alaska stood up. Even the smallest of his movements intensified the tension in the air.

"You all know the rules," Alaska said in a low voice, but it was clear enough for everyone to hear. "I hate chaos." His gaze fell on Ivy, making her shudder. "You've ruined my night."

Agata swallowed hard. "Sir, please... she didn't mean to..."

"Silence." Alaska cut her off, leaving no room for argument. His cold eyes were locked on Ivy, as if deciding what to do with her.

"Take her to my office," Alaska ordered his men without waiting for a response. His gaze returned to Ivy. "We'll talk later."

Two burly men approached, grabbing Ivy's limp arms. Agata tried to resist, but the men were too strong.

"Ta... I'm sorry..." Ivy whispered, tears streaming down her face as she was dragged away.

At the VIP table, Alaska sat back down, his expression as emotionless as ever. But behind his cold gaze, a dangerous glint flickered—an emotion far more perilous than mere anger.