Lee Dong Wook leaned back in the plush leather chair, the city lights a glittering, silent symphony outside the panoramic windows of his penthouse office. Below, Seoul pulsed, a vast, intricate circuit board over which he held an unseen, yet absolute, control.
A crisp, almost imperceptible thwack echoed in the spacious room as his personal assistant, Mr. Han, placed the final, signed contract on the polished obsidian table before him.
"The takeover is complete, Chairman Lee," Mr. Han stated, his voice a low, respectful hum. His eyes, though deferential, held a flicker of the awe and fear shared by every soul who knew Lee Dong Wook's name.
Dong Wook merely nodded, his gaze fixed on the dense urban sprawl. He didn't need to read the contract; every clause, every intricate legal maneuver, had been meticulously orchestrated by him, a grand puppet master pulling strings no one else even knew existed.
At thirty-four, he commanded an empire built not just on ambition, but on sheer, unadulterated ruthlessness. He'd dropped out of high school, left to carve a existence in a society that offered him nothing. He learned quickly, adapted faster, and by twenty-three, led a gang whose name was whispered with dread.
By twenty-six, his name was feared. The years in the trenches had stripped him clean, leaving behind zero conscience, only an instinct for survival and absolute victory.
The numbers on the screen before him, glowing green with astronomical profits, meant nothing. Another conquest, another acquisition, another rival systematically dismantled. It was simply the game.
Fourteen years he'd been playing it, rising too fast, accumulating power so swiftly it left a vacuum where normal human connections should have been. Family? Gone. Love? A concept for fools. Real friendship? A weakness he'd surgically removed from his life. All he knew was the relentless push, the endless vigilance. Sometimes, in the quiet moments like these, the sheer toil of it all settled deep in his bones, a weariness that even his vast wealth couldn't alleviate. All he wanted, truly, was to rest.
Mr. Han coughed subtly. "The evening's itinerary, Chairman?"
"Cancel it all," Dong Wook said, his voice flat. "I'll drive myself tonight."
Mr. Han merely bowed, accustomed to his chairman's abrupt decisions. Dong Wook picked up his keys, the cold metal a familiar weight in his palm. He walked past the silent, impeccably dressed guards, descended in a private elevator, and slipped into his customized luxury sedan parked discreetly in the underground garage. The engine purred to life, a low, comforting growl.
He drove, not to his sprawling estate in the hills, but aimlessly through the neon arteries of the city, the only true solitude he ever found. A flash of headlights in his rearview mirror.
Too fast. Too close.
He registered the blare of a horn, the screech of tires, then a blinding, searing pain. Metal shrieked, glass exploded. The world spun into a violent, chaotic blur.
Then, silence.
His body lay twisted in the mangled wreckage, the scent of burning oil thick in the air. He didn't feel pain. He felt nothing but a profound, unyielding fury. This couldn't be it. Not like this. He refused to believe his empire, his life, would end in such pathetic, random finality.
He fought against the encroaching darkness, but it was a losing battle. His consciousness, a sharp, defiant spark, left his cold, unresponsive body.
A sensation of profound emptiness, a drift in a boundless, silent void. He floated, unmoored, until a sense of solidity returned.
He opened his eyes. Even before he sat up he already knew,he was dead...for now.
He stood in a room of impossible proportions, bathed in a soft, ethereal light that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere. Opposite him, behind a simple, polished wooden table, sat a man. Not old, but timeless, his face serene, his eyes focused intently on a scroll unfurled before him. The man didn't spare Dong Wook a glance.
Dong Wook, instinctively defiant even in this incomprehensible place, simply walked over and pulled out a chair, settling himself comfortably opposite the silent figure.
Minutes stretched into an eternity.
Finally, the man sighed, a sound like rustling parchment, and lifted his gaze. His eyes, ancient and knowing, met Dong Wook's.
"Hmm. I'm pretty sure you know where you're headed."
Dong Wook didn't flinch. "Back. I'm going back."
The mysterious man chuckled, a dry, papery sound. "You're funny, I'll give you that." He lifted a delicate teacup to his lips, sipping slowly. "Would you like some?"
Dong Wook stared at him, then at the steaming cup. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice rough.
"Me?" The man paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "Nothing. What could I possibly want?" He set the cup down with a soft clink and leaned closer, his voice dropping. "I should be the one asking. What do you want?"
Dong Wook crossed his arms, a ghost of his old arrogance in the gesture. "I want—" He scoffed. "No. I need to go back. Right now."
The man leaned back, resuming his tea. "Not possible."
Dong Wook shook his head, placing his hands flat on the table, leaning in slightly. "Never say never. There must be something you want."
"Nope. What could I possibly want." The man's gaze was piercing. "Meanwhile, for what reason do you even want to go back? Revenge?"
Dong Wook paused. Revenge? He smirked,its seems his accident wasn't really an accident but even at that. Honestly, he was just tired. Fourteen years in this game. It wasn't long by some standards, but it had been relentlessly toiling.
He had risen too fast, accumulated too many frenemies. Along the way, he had lost all the good things – family, love, real friendship. Now, all he wanted was to rest.
The mysterious man studied him for a long moment, a silence thick with unspoken understanding. Then, he poured Dong Wook a cup of tea. "Drink up," he said.
Dong Wook hesitated, then lifted the cup. The tea was tasteless, like warm air. He glanced back at the man, who gestured for him to keep drinking. He tilted his head back, finishing the last drop.
"Fine," Dong Wook asked again, setting the empty cup down. "What do you want?"
The mysterious man sipped his own tea before replying. "I'll tell you when you wake up."
Dong Wook frowned. Wake up from what? A huge wave of dizziness suddenly crashed over him, the room tilting violently. His head hit the table with a dull thud.
What exactly did he give me?