The luxury hotel lounge is illuminated by chandeliers. Tonight's private event, the "Cross-Industry Networking Mixer," was a cesspool of swirling desires and ulterior motives.

Entrepreneurs with bloodshot eyes hunting for connections, young models sizing up potential sugar daddies, and bored socialites brought along just to fill the numbers. From multi-level marketers and cult recruiters waiting for an opening, to gossip reporters keeping a sharp eye out for a scoop on country bumpkins dreaming of a reversal, to part-time staff serving drinks with expressionless faces—a motley crowd swarms with glasses in hand.

In a dim terrace seat away from the noise, Rui Kagari sat alone before an untouched drink, looking down at the city below with cold eyes. The "young genius investor" the media keeps praising. His sweet, refined looks and languid allure attract people unconsciously, but his amber eyes are coated with overwhelming emptiness and rejection of others.

The top-floor suite of this hotel, which he calls home, is equipped with perfect security that allows no intruders and services that cover everything from meals to facilities. Why did he bother coming down to this farce from his absolute castle where no one interferes with his life?

For him, pure "entertainment" does not exist. There is only escapism or an extension of self-defense. Even now, his mind is occupied only by thoughts of night drives on the midnight Shuto Expressway or the bayside lines. In the sealed car where no one can interfere, simply taking in the flowing night scenery was the only stabilizer holding his frayed nerves together.