Chapter 1

I was trying to book a male escort online, but somehow I accidentally texted a hitman.

Me: "How much per session?"

Hitman: "How many people."

Whoa, group rates? Awesome!

I hesitated, a blush creeping up, and typed my name.

"O-only one person. Any chance of a discount?"

It was the tenth day since the breakup, and my hormones were acting up again, just like every month, making me restless.

I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

So, in the middle of the night, I turned to the internet, looking for something to help me unwind.

Clicking around, a powerfully striking photo suddenly scrolled across my screen.

In my view, the man wore a dark helmet and mask, with only a pair of broad, strong hands, gripping a weapon, visible.

His knuckles were sharply defined, veins bulging.

The oversized weapon looked small and effortless in those palms.

I couldn't help but imagine his long fingers pulling the trigger.

What if his fingertips weren't on a trigger, but on…

I instinctively covered my tingling nose.

I instantly clicked into his profile, desperate for more eye candy.

But most of the account's content was hidden, requiring a paid subscription to unlock direct messages.

Underneath, a flood of anonymous five-star reviews.

“Totally worth it.”

“Excellent and professional service!”

“Clean, on point, no regrets.”

I thought for a second and understood —

It had to be OnlyFans!

I did a quick mental calculation of the price and hissed through my teeth.

It wasn't cheap. This male model was truly expensive.

Normally, I'd just drool for a bit and move on.

But I was still furious about my cheating ex and desperately needed some good stuff to soothe my soul.

We independent women deserve to treat ourselves.

Money comes and goes, but I’d never again, in the prime of my twenties, alone, miss out on a masked, buff 'daddy' fantasy.

I immediately splurged on the most expensive tier.

Sure enough, a private message arrived quickly.

“What service do you require.”

His tone was as steady and cold as he was.

I could almost picture him, stoic, giving me a sharp, knife-like glance.

I touched my rapidly beating heart and bravely asked him.

“How much for you to come out once?”

He replied quickly: “How many people.”

Whoa, group activities too? I was momentarily stunned by his wide range of services.

Ugh, with the economy in the dumps, even us sugar mamas are feeling the pinch.

My spirit animal must be a rusty old sponge – its flower language is pure, unadulterated suffering.

I sighed for a moment: “Just one person.”

I thought for a moment and then asked: “Any discounts?”

The other side was silent for a moment, seemingly not expecting my question. After a brief pause, four bolded words popped up.

“NO BARGAINING.”

So cool and aloof. Business must be booming.

He probably realized his tone was a bit stiff. A moment later, another message came.

“Any special requests.”

Me: !

Was the service *that* good? Paying definitely made a difference, making my mind race with naughty thoughts.

My face flushed crimson, my brain like a wild horse, replaying every comic, video, and story I’d ever seen.

It took me a long time to timidly type out my reply.

“Anything goes?”

The other side fell into a deep silence again, longer than before.

Finally, after a long pause, two concise words appeared.

“Extra charge.”

…My inner fangirl suddenly keeled over.

I instantly became pure and desireless: “Oh, then never mind.”

After sending him my name, birthday, and a photo as requested, I casually asked.

“What's your name?”

The cool guy's reply was just as cool.

“No need to know. Once the transaction is complete, we won't be in touch again.”

Wow, this is that legendary cold, hard cash transaction, isn't it? Adulting is really something else.

Me: “I need something to call you. A stage name?”

He seemed to ponder, typing for a moment, then slowly replied.

“Codename, Phoenix.”