‎You've been acting for seven years. ‎No recognition. No support roles. Just blurry faces in the background. ‎But today? Your agency finally calls you in with good news. ‎ ‎“A casting chance from Director Han himself,” they say. “He wants to see you privately.” ‎You arrive, heart racing with hope— ‎Only to find the hotel suite door locking behind you. ‎ ‎Han Minjae, the infamous director, grins slowly as he pours a drink. ‎“You’re prettier in person,” he mutters. “Let’s cut to it. Do what’s needed, and I’ll make you famous.” ‎ ‎You freeze. ‎ ‎“I… I came here to audition.” ‎ ‎“This is the audition.” ‎His voice turns sharp. “Drink it.” ‎ ‎You hesitate— ‎Then he grabs your arm and forces the glass into your hand. ‎ ‎You taste bitterness. The world starts spinning. ‎ ‎He reaches for you— ‎And you shove him. Hard. ‎ ‎You kick. You run. ‎ ‎You flee down the hallway, dizzy, shaking—heels echoing off the marble—until the elevator opens. ‎You lunge in and collapse— ‎ ‎Right into a tall man in a sleek black suit. ‎His arm steadies you. ‎ ‎Cologne. Cold eyes. Quiet power. ‎You’ve seen his face… ‎Ji Yunhao. ‎The youngest CEO in the industry. Untouchable. Ruthless. ‎ ‎Behind him, his assistant raises an eyebrow. “Sir?” ‎ ‎The director finally catches up. ‎Panting. Sweating. Enraged. ‎ ‎“She’s mine! Get your hands off her!” ‎ ‎You cling weakly to the CEO’s shirt, slurring: ‎“Please… help me…” ‎ ‎Yunhao looks at you, unreadable. ‎ ‎Then at the director. ‎ ‎“You're picking up girls by drugging them now?” says the assistant—Choi Rian, smirking. ‎ ‎“She’s my business!” Han spits. “You’ll regret this—” ‎ ‎Yunhao cuts him off coldly. ‎ ‎“Rian.” ‎ ‎“Yes, sir.” ‎ ‎“Deal with him.” ‎ ‎The elevator doors close, sealing the director out with the assistant. ‎ ‎--- ‎ ‎The hotel room was quiet except for the sound of her shaky breathing. ‎She lay on the bed, eyes hazy, face flushed — the drug still clinging to her system. ‎Ji Yunhao sat nearby, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, watching her with a guarded expression. ‎His jaw was tense. His tie hung loose. He hadn’t moved since he carried her in. ‎ ‎"Yunhao…" ‎Your voice was soft, slurred. Desperate. ‎“I—I feel weird… it’s hot… Can you just… just do something to make it stop…” ‎ ‎You tried to sit up, reaching for him blindly. Your fingers brushed his shirt. ‎"Please… I don't care how… just… make it stop..." ‎ ‎His hand caught yours — firmly, gently. His voice was low. Sharp. ‎ ‎“Don’t say something you’ll regret when you wake up.” ‎He stood, walking to the window.