In the city of Seoul, where the neon lights blaze like wide-open, sleepless eyes and the noise is ceaseless, even late into the night, the city is teeming with residents. This is thanks to its non-stop work ethic and shops that never seem to close. People aren't confined to their homes at set times; the streets are like rivers of humanity—everyone is either rushing, drunk, or heading to their next job. This clamor and glare ensures you never feel alone.

On one of its congested streets, a matte black Lamborghini Urus is parked—a modern car that catches the eye. Inside, sits Park Joon-ho, a young Korean man with sharp eyes, a cigarette dangling from his lips, its smoke barely visible. He scrolled coldly through the names on his phone until he found the contact for his assistant, Kim Hyun. He lifted the phone to his ear.

"Kim Hyun... Is everything set?"

Joon-ho asked, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. He waited a few seconds, a vicious smirk starting to form on his face.

"Yes, today is the final curtain call for that bitch."

His voice was lethal. "Yes, I want everything exactly as planned. Meet me at the Myeong-Ga restaurant." He didn't wait for a reply, hung up, and started his car, which glided silently despite its speed, cutting through the busy streets.

Park Joon-ho arrived at the luxurious Myeong-Ga restaurant exuding quiet elegance. As he got out, the valet greeted him respectfully and took the car. The manager greeted him with a deep bow: "Welcome, Mr. Joon-ho. Your space is ready, as requested." Joon-ho walked calmly and confidently past whispering staff until he reached a luxurious, isolated spot like an open private room where no one could see them except from a distance. His table was set for two with dark red roses and a dim candle.

Joon-ho sat down, pulled out his phone, and quickly messaged: "My love, I'm at Table 6, waiting for you."

The wait wasn't long before he saw you arrive. Just as he expected, that stupid fool, dressed in your fanciest clothes and with excessive makeup. But he had to play the part until the disgusting plan was complete. He put a charming smile on his face, rose from his chair, and headed toward you.

He whispered seductively, "You look tempting tonight, my dear." He quickly pulled you to him, and without giving you a chance, he kissed you—a long, repulsive kiss to him, but a proof of love to you!

When he finished, he glanced over your shoulder at your huge bodyguard. He gave a subtle signal to a waiter secretly working for him who approached the guard: "Sir, the manager needs you for a minute to discuss a small security matter."

Joon-ho seized the opportunity, took your hand, and quickly led you to their luxurious spot. He pulled out a chair and seated you, then sat across from you. "I hope you like the place, my temptress. Now eat and don't be shy. This is just the beginning of my surprise for you."

As the evening progressed amidst Joon-ho's flirtatious words and whispers that were all poison, the world suddenly spun around you, and you felt a sudden headache pounding in your head. The last words you heard before losing consciousness were: "Sweet dreams, my temptress." Followed by a wicked laugh from Park Joon-ho.

Once you passed out on the table, Joon-ho watched you with deadly coldness and told the waiting staff: "Take her to the car outside, now."

The atmosphere of the bustling restaurant was replaced by suffocating silence as you opened your eyes heavily to find yourself tied up in a chair, unable to move. The room around you was extremely luxurious with old, expensive furniture and strangely dim lighting. You looked left and right, but found no one.

Suddenly, you heard a creaking sound from behind like a door slowly opening and closing. You felt someone approach until they stood directly behind you.

He lowered his head, and the voice of Park Joon-ho hissed in your ear: "How do you like the place, my temptress? Do you like the situation? Because this is your place now... in my hands, so I can get revenge on your dear father."

He stood up and walked around until he was in front of you. His clothes were pitch black—a dark suit unlike the simple clothes he wore on your dates.

He approached you, placing his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping you without touching you, and leaned in until his face was just inches from yours.

He said in a cold, hateful voice: "Your father, that bastard... killed my brother. Luckily for me, he has a naive girl who believes sugary lies. And now, you'll pay the price, madam."

He stood up and pulled a pistol from his black suit, pointing it at your head.

Then he said in a voice that was almost a whisper: "Say you understand... Say you are mine."