'No wonder he gives me déjà vu,' Jet thought, his chest tightening. 'He is him.'
His eyes darted between the photo of Yau Han on his phone and the illustration of Zhao Han in his book. The resemblance was unmistakable. Jet would know—he'd obsessed over every detail of Zhao Han's design when creating his story. Hours spent describing the sharp line of his jaw, the intense eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets, and the quiet strength in his posture. And now, here was Yau Han, mirroring it all, down to the piercing gaze that seemed to cut through the screen.
Jet's hand tightened around the edge of the book as he muttered, "Stupid dream. Stupid photo." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. 'Why does this even matter? Why do I care so much?' But no matter how hard he tried to brush it off, his gaze kept returning to the images.
"You're here…" he whispered, the words escaping like a confession. His pulse quickened, the weight of it sinking in.
Yet, something about Yau Han felt… different. He wasn't just like Zhao Han; he was more. Broader shoulders, a presence that practically leapt out of every photo Jet could find.
Frowning, Jet picked up his phone again, scrolling through picture after picture of Yau Han. Red carpet events, business galas, candid shots from interviews—the search results were endless. In every one, Han stood out, his height and presence commanding attention. His confidence wasn't loud; it was something unspoken, effortlessly captivating.
Jet's breathing slowed. "No way," he muttered to himself, staring at yet another photo. 'It's just the camera angle,' he tried convincing himself, but deep down, he didn't buy it.
The more he scrolled, the harder it became to dismiss the nagging thought that this meeting wasn't just a coincidence. And now, paired with the fact that Han was clearly much taller than him, Jet couldn't resist the urge to take a leap.
He grabbed the slip of paper from his desk, holding Han's number. His thumb hovered over the phone screen before he finally typed out a message.
"Hello."
Jet stared at the screen, expecting silence. Someone like Yau Han, with his quiet personality, was probably too busy to notice a random text, right? He tossed the phone aside, expecting a long wait.
But then it buzzed.
"Hello."
The reply was instant. Jet's eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. Picking up the phone, he quickly typed again, his fingers fumbling over the keyboard.
"I'm sorry for the late response. I've been busy."
"That's fine," Han replied, short and polite as ever.
The conversation started slowly, just a casual exchange. Jet's nerves eased slightly as they chatted—though it was brief, it wasn't awkward.
"I've been wondering if we could meet and talk more," Jet typed hesitantly before pressing send.
Han stared at the message, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he replied, "I'll see. Location?"
Jet's heart skipped. He needed to confirm something about this Alpha—his height, his presence. He glanced around his studio, searching for inspiration. His gaze landed on his fencing equipment propped against the wall. An idea struck.
"How about my fencing competition?" Jet quickly typed back. "It's in two weeks. I can send you the location and time."
Han's reply came almost instantly. "I'll check my schedule."
The conversation ended, and Han stood, heading off to find his assistant.
"I'm here, sir," Victor said, appearing at his side. "Do you need something?"
"Clear my schedule in two weeks," Han instructed, his tone firm. "There's an event I want to attend."
Victor tilted his head slightly, surprised by the unusual request, but nodded. "Understood."
—
Jet let out a deep breath, relief washing over him as he leaned back in his chair. His heart, which had been racing since he sent the message, finally slowed.
"I can't believe I just did that," he muttered, shaking his head with a small laugh.
His eyes fell on the fencing equipment again. "It's like sword fighting, but with more rules, right?" he mused, chuckling to himself. ""
For the next two weeks, Jet threw himself into training. Every practice session was intense—each parry, lunge, and feint executed with more determination than ever. He wasn't just preparing for his competition; he was preparing to impress Yau Han.
—
The day of the competition arrived, and the venue buzzed with a mix of energy and anticipation. Competitors filled the space, their movements purposeful as they warmed up, while the hum of spectators' chatter created a lively backdrop. Jet arrived early, his gear in hand and nerves bubbling just beneath his composed exterior. This wasn't just another competition—it felt like a personal challenge, a moment to prove himself and, maybe, to leave an impression on Han.
In the warm-up area, competitors stretched and adjusted their equipment. Jet joined them, loosening his muscles with practiced ease, but his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. Each time the doors opened, his heart gave a little jump. As more people streamed in, including his mother and sister, doubt began to creep in. 'Maybe inviting Han was a mistake.'
He shook the thought away, forcing himself to focus. Jet greeted a few familiar faces—old rivals and friends from past tournaments. There were also new competitors, faces he didn't recognize but would soon come to know on the piste. He exchanged polite nods, but in his heart, he whispered a silent prayer: may the best fencer win.
The competition began with the pool rounds, and Jet found himself grouped with a mix of familiar opponents and fresh challengers. He stepped onto the piste for his first match, casting a quick glance at the spectator seats. His family waved enthusiastically, their cheers cutting through the noise of the crowd.
A small smile tugged at his lips. With their support behind him and a mission in his heart, Jet slid on his mask. As the buzzer rang, he moved forward, ready to face whatever came his way.
Jet stepped onto the piste, gripping his foil tightly as his first bout began. The opponent across from him was an old rival, someone he'd fenced against many times before. The familiar rhythm of the match helped calm his nerves as he quickly settled into his form.
The buzzer signaled the start, and Jet moved with precision, his body remembering every drill and movement he'd practiced over the past weeks. His strikes were sharp, his parries clean, and he secured a solid victory in his first round.
Between bouts, Jet adjusted his gear, sipping water and catching his breath. He exchanged nods and a few words with the other competitors in his pool, but his mind kept wandering to the entrance. 'Was Han going to show? What if he didn't?'
By the time Jet finished his pool matches, he'd won four out of six bouts—a solid performance that would likely place him in a good position for the elimination round. His confidence was building, but he couldn't shake the feeling of anticipation.