A moment before the police barged in, Hater was lying there, stunned, his mind racing.
Who am I?
Where am I?
Did I travel through time?
These were the questions swirling in his head as he tried to piece together what had just happened.
His thoughts were interrupted by the movement beneath him. He glanced down, and his eyes widened in shock.
A woman with curly hair was bent over, cleaning up after their encounter. She occasionally looked up at him, offering a bright red smile that felt both seductive and mocking.
Hater was in disbelief. What the hell happened?
"W-What are you doing? Stay away from me! I feel disgusted!" he shouted, recoiling.
The woman, clearly not amused, paused her cleaning and glared at him. "Disgusted? You only feel disgusted now? Why didn't you say that before you walked in? You're disgusting to me, too!" She coughed and spat on the floor, her anger palpable.
She had never seen such an arrogant, shameless guest. He had been a pig throughout their encounter, but now, after the fact, he had the nerve to call it disgusting?
Without warning, the woman spat directly at Hater's face.
The anger that flared in Hater was immediate, his face turning a deep shade of red. Before he could respond, a loud bang echoed through the room.
"Cracking down on prostitution!" shouted a group of police officers as they rushed in. "We've received reports from concerned citizens. You are under suspicion of illegal activity. Everyone, squat down and stay still!"
The officers wasted no time, taking photos to document the scene and quickly taking control of the situation.
"Sir, this is a mistake! You don't understand!" Hater tried to explain, though he could already tell this wasn't going well.
"What mistake? Get your hands on your head and squat down in the corner!" a police officer barked.
"Yes, no mistake at all!" The woman chimed in, her tone filled with vindication. "This guy is a whoremaster! I can testify! The evidence is under the bed!"
Hater felt his blood boil, but he knew better than to lash out. Now was not the time. Instead, he scrambled for a way out. "Look, I'm a reporter! This is my employee ID!" He quickly showed his press card in a last-ditch effort to explain his presence.
The officer looked at the card and frowned. "Reporter? What kind of reporter?"
"Entertainment reporter," Hater muttered.
The officer's expression darkened. "An entertainment reporter? Shouldn't you be off recording behind-the-scenes tidbits? What's this secret interview about? Who are you trying to fool? Squat down now, and if you move again, I won't be so nice!"
Hater felt like crying, but there were no tears. What the hell happened?
The two were detained, criticized, and fined. When Hater was finally released, he was still none the wiser about what had occurred.
He'd tried explaining himself multiple times during the process, but the more he spoke, the more tangled his story became. Eventually, he gave up and admitted to the authorities, hoping they wouldn't think he was being uncooperative.
Once out of the station, Hater's phone rang. It was his boss.
"Bastard," his boss barked. "I told you to keep an eye on him, and you end up in that kind of place? What were you thinking? Do you want to keep your job?"
Hater let out a frustrated sigh. "Boss, it's not what you think! I was just—"
"I don't care what you think, I care about what you did. Explain yourself!" his boss interrupted.
Hater tried to explain. "I was following that young man, John Lopez. When I saw him enter the brothel, I thought I'd just follow him and get some photos. But then... then he dragged me inside. I don't even remember how it happened! Next thing I know, I wake up and—"
He paused, the realization creeping in.
Hater's mind began to churn. Maybe John Lopez had drugged him. Perhaps he'd been manipulated into sleeping with the prostitute without realizing it.
When he'd been in the police station, Hater had immediately suspected he was framed. He'd thought a blood test would prove he'd been drugged.
But when the woman testified against him, everything he thought he knew fell apart.
She pulled out a video from Hater's own phone.
The video showed Hater, clearly sober and engaged, as he asked the woman to record their encounter. In the video, Hater was speaking to her directly, suggesting that he might watch the footage later. The woman had clearly agreed to the request, mentioning how much money he'd paid her for it.
Hater's face flushed red with embarrassment. "What the hell? Two thousand? Is it worth that much? I wouldn't even keep this video! I'd rather throw it away!" he protested, hoping the video could somehow be dismissed.
But it wasn't dismissed. The police found the video on his phone, and it sealed his fate.
"Could I have been drugged?" he pleaded, but the blood test results came back negative—there was no trace of anything in his system.
Faced with overwhelming evidence, Hater had no choice but to admit the truth.
"Boss, I swear, it's not what you think. It's that young man you asked me to follow! He went into the brothel first, and I took several photos of him… Wait, the photos!" Hater suddenly remembered.