A figure loomed over him, cloaked in shadow. As his vision adjusted, he made out a pair of sharp, unreadable eyes staring down at him, framed by a face he didn't recognize. It was a stranger-one who radiated danger and precision, an assassin sent to kill him.

Jongsu's mind raced. He wasn't just anyone; he was the heir to one of the most powerful conglomerates in South Korea, a name whispered in both reverence and envy. But privilege didn't come without enemies. In fact, it painted a target on his back. He'd lost count of how many people wanted him gone, for business, revenge, or greed. This, however, was a first-being chained to a bed with death quite literally staring him in the face.

He forced a smirk, his charm and arrogance bubbling to the surface even in the face of danger. "At least you're cute," he drawled, his voice hoarse but laced with defiance.