A Bet with the Devil

My Top Husband

Episode 5

Trip spun his stylus between his fingers, staring at the revised character design on his screen. He had made the changes Sanzo suggested—adjusting the stance, streamlining the weapon—but something still felt off.

"Ugh," he groaned, slumping in his chair. "I hate it when he’s right."

He tapped the screen, zooming in and out, hoping inspiration would magically strike. It didn’t. He sighed and glanced toward the far end of the office, where Sanzo sat in his glass-walled office, working like a machine.

Sanzo barely moved, his posture perfect, his focus intense. His sharp jawline was set in concentration, and his fingers typed swiftly across the keyboard.

Trip scoffed. Does this guy ever relax?

Just then, Ren appeared beside him, setting a cup of coffee on his desk.

"Still struggling?" Ren asked, glancing at the screen.

Trip exhaled. "It’s fine. But I don’t wanna settle for fine." He turned to Ren. "Be honest. Is this missing something?"

Ren studied the screen for a moment before nodding. "It’s technically perfect, but… it lacks your usual energy. Feels like you’re trying to please someone rather than create."

Trip groaned, throwing his head back. "Exactly! It’s like Sanzo’s robotic perfectionism is infecting my art."

Ren chuckled. "Sanzo’s feedback can be harsh, but he’s rarely wrong."

Trip smirked. "Rarely? So you’re saying there’s still a chance I can prove him wrong?"

Ren gave him a curious look. "What are you planning?"

Trip leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Something fun."

Ren sighed. "That sounds dangerous."

Trip grinned. "Only if Sanzo loses."

Later that afternoon, Trip strolled into Sanzo’s office without knocking.

Sanzo barely looked up from his work. "If you’re here to waste my time, leave."

Trip ignored him, plopping down in the chair across from his desk. "Relax, bossman. I actually have a proposition for you."

Sanzo finally lifted his gaze, narrowing his eyes. "A proposition?"

Trip grinned. "A bet."

Sanzo arched an eyebrow. "I don’t gamble."

"Then think of it as a challenge," Trip said, leaning forward. "If my revised design actually impresses you—like, really impresses you—then you owe me a favor."

Sanzo’s expression didn’t change. "And if it doesn’t?"

Trip smirked. "Then I’ll work overtime for a week. Without complaining."

Sanzo’s dark eyes flickered with something unreadable. "You already work under company deadlines. Why should I entertain this?"

Trip shrugged. "Because you think I can’t do it. And because I know you like to be proven right. So, what do you say?"

A long silence stretched between them. Trip could practically see the calculations running through Sanzo’s mind.

Finally, Sanzo leaned back in his chair, fingers laced together. "And what exactly do you want if you win?"

Trip thought for a moment before grinning. "One favor. Anything I want."

Sanzo’s brow lifted slightly. "Anything?"

"Within reason," Trip clarified. "I’m not gonna ask for your company or your secret stash of black suits."

Sanzo exhaled, rubbing his temple. "You’re absurd."

"And yet," Trip pointed out, "you haven’t said no."

Another silence. Then, to Trip’s surprise, the corners of Sanzo’s lips almost twitched—like he was amused.

"Fine," Sanzo said. "But don’t expect me to go easy on you."

Trip’s smirk widened. "Wouldn’t dream of it."

Back at his desk, Trip cracked his knuckles and grinned.

"Alright, Sanzo," he muttered. "Let’s see if I can wipe that smug look off your face."

This time, he didn’t just adjust the design. He revamped it.

Instead of focusing on Sanzo’s strict feedback, he focused on emotion. He gave the character a stance that commanded attention, blending strength with personality. The armor was sleeker, the weapon lighter yet deadlier. Even the character’s expression radiated confidence.

Trip worked tirelessly, pouring his own energy into the design. He didn’t even notice the hours slipping away.

By the time he finished, the office was quieter. Some employees had already left for the day.

Trip exhaled, staring at his screen.

"Damn, that’s good."

He saved the final version and smirked.

Sanzo wouldn’t know what hit him.

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