The girl in front of me fidgeted after talking about her latest schedules and a little of her other plans for the next week. She’s just one of the countless blind dates I have to endure for the past years.

“So what are your plans for next week?” she asked.

I lift my glass and took a sip of the wine; still looking at her. She blushed and reached for her drink, avoiding my eyes. I had to smirk for that very familiar reaction. I always had that effect on them.

I checked my watch.

Time is up.

I motioned for the waiter, “Send me the bill,” then I stood up. “I still have to attend to some business dinners, thanks for the night.”

I left her after a polite bow. It’s funny to think that I have to be the one thanking her when it should be her.

“Where are we going next Sir?” My driver asked as I walk near the open passenger’s door of the black BMW.

“Back at my place,” then I got inside, loosening my tie after he closed the door.

The silent ride back home made me chuckle. Maybe after all those times, this is really what I want.

But why does it hurt me?

I massaged my temples as the car stops for the red light.

The large screen ahead, hanging on one of those skyscrapers caught my attention.

‘Just the same old news,’ I smirked.

It shows my very recent photo with the glaring headlines all in capital letters that read:

KRIS WU, THE MOST