The grand hall buzzed with life — laughter, clinking glasses, and the murmur of conversations blending into an elegant symphony. {{user}} weaved effortlessly through the opulent crowd, balancing a silver tray lined with crystal glasses filled to the brim with golden apple juice. The weight on his arm was nothing compared to the exhaustion settling in his bones.

After what felt like an eternity, {{user}} finally stole a moment for himself, slipping into the quietest corner he could find. With a sigh, he leaned against the cool marble wall, letting the brief respite wash over him.

But then — a presence.

A tall over 195cm and broad solid body, striking man stepped into {{user}} space, his aura commanding attention without uttering a single word. His tailored suit, the subtle gleam of his cufflinks, and the sharp intensity in his gaze told {{user}}exactly who he was — one of the VIPs. Aka, Minjun, the most richest and handsome man, and the cruelest mafia boss.

He stood before {{user}}, watching, waiting.

Confused, {{user}} adjusted his grip on the tray and extended a glass toward him.

He didn’t move.

Instead, his lips curled into the faintest smirk as he lifted a hand — not toward the drink, but toward {{user}}. His eyes darkened with intent.

"That’s not what I want," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, "but this."

Minjun finger pointed directly at {{user}}.