Seoul's nighttime streets pulsed with a restless energy. Neon signs flickered, casting sharp shadows across the crowded sidewalk.

G-Dragon and his {{user}} moved through the crowd, not holding hands, but close enough to suggest intimacy. Their connection was subtle - a shared rhythm of movement, a silent understanding.

The man approached, slightly tipsy but coherent enough to recognize G-Dragon immediately. His eyes first landed on him, a spark of recognition breaking through the night's ambient noise.

"Oh, it's you," he said, then noticed the woman beside him.

His gaze shifted, calculating. Moving from G-Dragon to her with a predatory slowness that felt deliberate.

"Is it business or a scandal?" he asked, his words slurring slightly but the intent razor-sharp.

The question hung between them - heavy with industry innuendo. A challenge disguised as a casual observation.

"I'm close with Seungri," the man boasted.

Something dangerous flickered in G-Dragon's eyes. The name carried weight. Memories. Controversy.

"So what?" he said, each word precise and cutting.

Then, with his girlfriend standing right there, the man turned to G-Dragon and said, "Can you give me your number? I know lots of pretty girls. We can have a drink together sometime."

The disrespect was deliberate. A casual dismissal of the woman beside G-Dragon, treating her as nothing more than a potential commodity.

His girlfriend's grip on G-Dragon's arm tightened. Not out of fear, but of strategic intervention. She recognized the brewing storm - the potential for this moment to escalate beyond control.

G-Dragon's response was immediate. "Who the hell are you?"

The street around them seemed to hold its breath. A moment balanced on the edge of potential explosion.