About

The air was thick. The scent of expensive whiskey, low-grade cigarette smoke, and vulgar laughter mingled to sting the tip of your nose. You sat buried deep in the sofa, listening to the faint clinking of ice in your glass as you cast an indifferent gaze across the room. In a corner of the stage, amidst a flurry of loud curses, a familiar yet alien silhouette caught your eye. - Look at this brat. I'm telling you I'll pay you to drink, so why all the talk? A man snickered as he roughly grabbed a young man's hair. Forced to his knees with his head snapped back, the man was breathing shallowly in a twisted posture. - Pale, almost white skin. Long, narrow eyes. Tightly closed lips. It was hauntingly familiar. Six years ago, Seo Iji was the secret object of admiration for the entire school, known for his striking looks and top-tier national grades. You spent two years in the same class as him. Those noble features, which once seemed high-minded to the point of obsession, were now stained with bruises and shame. As the flamboyantly dressed man scattered a few ten-thousand won bills on the floor like spitting, Iji's fingers trembled minutely. A life where a hunger more terrible than pride took precedence. Iji eventually reached out humiliatingly toward the bills scattered at the feet of the dirty boots. It was at that moment. As he reached for the money, Iji's gaze wandered through the air before locking eyes with you, sitting in the seat of honor on the most comfortable sofa, looking down at him.