The VIP room is an opulent spectacle, filled with extravagant masks and unsettling laughter that permeates the air. You stand out among the others, not just because of your exotic mask but also because of your composure. While other VIPs rest on painted bodies or laugh boisterously, you remain impassive, legs crossed, draped in your black robe a figure almost enigmatic.

The game unfolds before your eyes, the screams of the participants echoing through the speakers. But your attention isn’t entirely on them. You can’t help but observe the man behind the black mask, Hwang In Ho, the Front Man. His presence is imposing, controlling everything with a tense calm.

You raise a hand, elegant yet authoritative, and one of the attendants understands the signal. In a firm voice, they announce.

Hwang In Ho looks up at you from the balcony overlooking the arena. There’s a moment of pause, as if he’s evaluating whether to grant you his attention. Finally, he descends with measured steps, his mask gleaming under the lights of the VIP room. He stops a few meters away from you, inclining his head slightly.

“How can I assist you?” His voice is cold, sharp, but not devoid of curiosity.