Sora’s hand flew to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming—or maybe remove the ‘s.’ Then, she slapped herself at such a ridiculous thought.
Sangwon turned to the side just as Zeno ripped off his shirt. “That was what my body looked like back in the days, too.”
Billy felt his throat dry up at the sight. He looked around and saw everyone’s gaze on Zeno.
He had to admit that Zeno’s body appeared very well-balanced. He looked like an inverted triangle! His biceps weren’t that big, but Billy knew Zeno would still win him in an arm wrestling competition.
However, it wasn’t over! The more complicated sequence was going to come soon, and Zeno would make a fool of himself.
Zeno let out a quiet curse as he discarded his clothes to the floor. ‘What the heck am I doing?’ he thought to himself; however, he continued, not wanting to do this all over again.
Zeno stood still, chest rising and falling, the harness tight against his skin, every muscle highlighted under the warm, slatted lights. A shadow of sweat kissed the edge of his jawline, but his face remained composed.
In the silence, Shin whispered, “Is this what they call a sleeper build?”
It was true. Zeno never showed off his body nor wore the clothes that would show his physique. So, once his clothes were off, the shock factor was even bigger.
As the music shifted into its next section, the tempo picked up, and Zeno took a deep breath.
Devon nervously watched him. He had a lot of faith in Zeno, but he also knew that he wasn’t the best dancer. He saw that firsthand in the dance studio.
Zeno was aware that Devon made the routine easier, too. It was clear by the amount of hip thrusts he added to the routine.
That was why it appeared racier than usual.
Zeno remembered watching the choreography demo the night before and discarding it halfway. Instead, he pulled up idol fan cams. Clips of male K-pop groups dancing with restrained sensuality—tight choreo, purposeful thrusts, and lingering looks.
Suggestive but never lewd. That was the key.
At first, he couldn’t get the rhythm right. His body wasn’t used to that fluid isolation. But once he hit an A-grade in his dancing skill… it came like breathing.
The music picked up again, and Zeno snapped back into motion.
His hand slid behind his neck as he twisted his torso with the beat. The lights circled slowly, casting shadows over his ribs.
Then again. Twice, in perfect rhythm, before stepping sideways and turning with a ripple of his shoulders.
Someone in the crowd gasped softly.
He raised his hand to the air, rolled his wrist, and caught it at his temple, mimicking a gunshot gesture before dropping into a kneel—thighs flexed, back straight. The harness straps cut against his frame like he was made to wear them. Then, slowly, he stood again, circling the chair.
He tapped the top of it with two fingers.
Billy’s mouth hung open, and it stayed there. What the fuck was happening? Zeno was pulling off a routine that an idol or maybe a professional dancer could execute! Was this the same man he saw in dancing class?
“Oh wow, he’s really good,” Sora muttered, making Billy feel even worse.
Sangwon tilted his head to the side. Aside from the dancing skills, it seemed that this young man’s storytelling skills were something else. Despite the sexiness of it all, he could still feel the desperation and annoyance in his movements.
Victor, too, narrowed his eyes—not in dissatisfaction but in disbelief. He turned to Devon, who appeared to be in the same state. “Did you choreograph this?”
Devon, despite being a “yes” man when it came to Victor PD, couldn’t say anything back. This wasn’t his routine! It was much more difficult than the original choreography.
He had crafted the routine based on what he saw during their dance class. It had only been two weeks since then, but Zeno had already improved so much in such a short amount of time?
With one palm pressed to the edge of the table beside the stage, Zeno flipped his entire body over, landing on the surface with one knee bent, the other extended behind him. His palm met the tabletop, weight evenly distributed. His other arm raised skyward.
Gasps were heard, not from acting but because they were genuinely surprised. He just did a grind on the table without losing balance! His muscles flexed at the right places, and it appeared to be a show that needed to be paid for.
Even the staff were enamored, completely forgetting they were there to monitor his performance and not just enjoy it.
Jace shook his head in amusement. “He always says he isn’t good at these things, but he always turns out amazing,” he muttered. “What a man.”
Zeno spun again, using the table like a launchpad. The final movements came—complex footwork, quick turns, and a shoulder roll paired with a precise pelvic snap.
He snapped it like it was the very last time he would do it in his entire life, and Zeno wished just that.
Misha, who had settled at the back, couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. She wanted to, of course, because she knew what kind of person Zeno was. However, she couldn’t deny that this performance was electrifying.
On the other hand, Victor saw the money raining from the ceiling. This scene was going to be legendary. He was sure of it! He could already imagine the edits that the international audience would be making!
The music slowed, making Zeno sigh in relief. In the cameras, it appeared as if he was breathless, and it added to the charm of his performance.
‘Thank goodness, it’s almost over,’ Zeno thought.
A few more beats later, and Zeno finally came to a halt. He sat on the chair, leaning with one arm behind it, showing off his lats before tilting his head slightly up, his mask catching the last gleam of the spotlight.