Disclaimer: All characters, locations, organizations, groups, and events depicted in this book are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people, places, or entities is purely coincidental.

The night covered a bright city like a smokescreen of his cigarette-stained breath, with every inhale, his choices wrapped around his neck tighter. He held them closer to his neck than the bursting veins, veins that stretched like rose vines. The arm bled harder the more it choked him, piercing it with poisonous spikes. The jazz box kept repeating the same music over and over again, and he closed his eyes, shutting them tighter than he’d shut his heart, keeping his vision from getting blurred, for to him, the most important thing is to never be blind. Sometimes, you can only see things when you close your eyes. He looked so elegant, so flawless, his lashes reaching out of his damp eyes, redness like he was higher than the city’s polluted sky, lost among the stars where time seemed to drift apart. Yet, he hadn’t even touched a drop of wine. He was a painting of “beautiful suffocation,” desperately divine, enchanting in his slow, inevitable decline.

Sitting alone in a black leather chair, slightly tilted back, he stared out of the window, only to meet the reflection of himself. He hated what he’d become, but stared intensely, a fierce glance of despair—reminding himself of the path he had chosen. Reality knocked on his door once again, warning him that despite his wealth, rest is a luxury not meant for a man like him. His phone rang a melody of the clinking glasses through the quiet chatter, and he let a slight sigh, thinking about how ridiculous it was that he hadn’t even gotten to drink yet.

He picked up the buzzing phone and answered with a hum.

“Are you sick of me?”

His secretary replied carelessly, like any other ordinary day.

“What is the matter?”

He slowly laid his head on his fist, his elbow on the hinges of his frustration. His voice carried the grace of silence between each word, though his head spun like a Ferris wheel, weighed down by pain and sleeplessness.

“We’ve arranged a meeting at the penthouse with the vice chairman of Danison Entertainment. Kendly has compiled all the materials we need for the deal.”

The secretary spoke professionally, almost clicking back into the role he was supposed to play.

His arms relaxed, placing the phone back on the coffee table. His head felt heavy with thought, so he rested it against his backbone. He was exhausted, but he knew he had plenty left to be done.

He got up from his chair slowly, like an anchor pulled from quicksand. His hands pressed into the arms of the chair to support his heavy burdens. He staggered slightly, reaching for his phone, the music slowed down, and the volume lowered as he walked toward the elevator. A musical orchestrated just for him.

Seoul, a city of lights, cast its radiant shimmer against the glass walls of the elevator. He stood still, staring down at the endless stretch of towering buildings. Then the elevator lowered along with his guard. He stared down at the marble floor and tucked his cold, anemic hands into the pockets of his suit. Leaning his shoulder against the glass, he waited patiently to reach the bottom, submerging his mind in momentary emptiness. The elevator hummed a melody to ease his thoughts—a calm piano that played as the doors slid open, pulling him back into his business life.

A high-society club greeted him with crystal chandeliers and beige, tall, engraved walls. A floor filled with the shadows of suits and gowns, heels and derby leather shoes—a gentle contrast from the quiet bar he’d been at.

He walked in as if the party was awaiting his arrival to begin. The lights shone brighter, a stage where the spotlight was meant solely for him. A place where everyone besides him was hardly a side character, blurring into the darkness of the background. He was not sure where to go, but his confident demeanour appeared as if he had owned the place. He walked into the ballroom, grabbed a glass of white wine, swirled it and breathed in the aroma. He wasn’t really drinking it. He was drinking it mentally until his secretary spoke.

“Sir, you shouldn’t drink right now.”

He reminded him with frustration.

He stared right into his eyes, then he drank it all in one go without breaking eye contact, like a child’s rebellion.

“Do you think one drink would make a difference?”

He gave a scoff, ridiculing him with disregard.

“Can I have a glass as well then? I’m tired of working overtime.”

He tilted his head.

Ji-won glared back,

“Are you being sarcastic with me now, Joon-ho?”

He said seriously in an attempt to sound somewhat threatening.

“I dare not, for I am but a peasant under your league—”

Joon-ho spoke once again, using the same font.

Quickly, like a switch, Jiwon let go of his humour like a nagging mother.

“Get going, aren’t you keeping that old man waiting? What if he leaves? Will you take responsibility for losing the deal?”

The door to the meeting room opened with a dramatic sound, and Joon-ho carried the drama with him inside. Everyone in the room turned their heads.

With a slight bow, he introduced himself, his voice smooth and unwavering—almost like a TV anchor.

“I apologize for being late. I am Secretary Lee Joon-ho of AX Investment Corporation. A pleasure to meet you.”

The vice chairman of Danison Entertainment returned the greeting with a nod. He raised his eyebrows unimpressively,

“Good evening, Mr. Lee. I was under the impression that Mr. Han would be here himself. In the end, he only sent his secretary.”

Joon-ho leaned back slightly. He smiled elegantly, but somehow he looked irritable. He let out a soft chuckle, resting his ankle on his knees and his back straight. He tilted his head slightly, as if he was explaining to a child.

“Sir, did you forget your position already? No way… surely not. You—a vice chairman—expected a personal audience with the CEO of one of the biggest investment corporations?”

His smile sharpened as he let the words sink in, as he leaned forward,

“If that was the case, shouldn’t your CEO be here too?” He began looking around as if he were searching for someone.

The vice chairman stiffened up and cleared his throat while looking down. He itched his neck and spoke in a cranky tone,

“Anyways, why don’t we get to the point? I heard you had a proposal.”

“That is right. We arranged this meeting because Danison Entertainment has been gaining traction in the corporate world. Our CEO believes that investing in your company is a promising opportunity for both of us.”

The vice chairman folded his hands together.

“We are indeed seeing steady growth, particularly in the stock market. Right now, we’re looking for investors to back our next entertainment project. Danison has successfully launched multiple hit K-pop groups, and we plan to push the industry forward in the next generation.”

Joon-ho’s gaze didn’t waver.

“K-pop has seen exponential global growth in recent years. AX Investment is looking to take advantage of that momentum. Our vision is simple—we help expand your next group beyond Korea and Asia. We’re talking worldwide influence.”

The vice chairman arched a brow.

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Joon-ho’s fingers tapped lightly against the arms of the couch.

“A Danison branch in North America. If that venture proves successful, Europe will be next. This expansion will not only boost your company’s global presence but solidify Danison as an international entertainment powerhouse, though of course, you will work on that, we only provide the expenses.”

The chairman was intrigued,

“Alright, I’ll take your proposal to the CEO, we’ll contact you to set up the date for signing the contract.”