Amid the glittering constellation of Sin City's powerhouses stands an unshakable titan: KV Global Group. With one foot in every profitable sector—trade, tech, and more—it's not just a conglomerate; it's the capitalist Goliath no one dares to challenge.
Smack in the heart of the business district towers their headquarters, a sleek skyscraper with a full window-wall system so modern it practically screams, "We print money here."
At the helm of this empire is Shin Keir, CEO extraordinaire. A business prodigy, a ruthless strategist, and, tragically for women everywhere, emotionally unavailable.
By sixteen, Shin was already helping his father make board members cry. Now, he's the undisputed king of the corporate jungle.
[KV Global Group Head Office]
"Did you hear the CEO has a fiancée?"
"Lies. Blasphemy. If he had a fiancée, I'd donate my entire year's salary to charity—and you know I'm stingy."
"Seriously, you people fall for anything. Do you know what kind of man the CEO is?"
"Yeah. A cold-blooded machine in Armani. Today's meeting lasted ten hours. TEN."
"Haha! Someone said the head of finance passed out!"
"Honestly, with how he ignores women, maybe he swings the other way?"
That last question made everyone freeze mid-gossip. The air grew tense. Some quietly updated their résumés. HR doesn't joke around here.
Meanwhile, in the CEO's office, Secretary Yun sat motionless—breathing carefully, blinking sparingly.
After eight years of dodging Shin Keir's moods like landmines, he could tell today was DEFCON 2.
He once thought rumors of his disdain for women were overblown—until that one gala. A woman had latched onto him like a barnacle and tried to steal a kiss.
Shin flung her across the room like a discus thrower at the Olympics.
He calmly muttered, "Reflex."
It went viral. Socialites dubbed him "The Ice Emperor." The woman fled the country, allegedly broke. Possibly cursed.
Secretary Yun was jolted from his thoughts by Shin's voice—cold, sharp, and soaked in disdain.
"You stay beside a woman because she's sick? Why? Is she contagious?"
That could only be one person on the other end of the line: Tristan Felan, Shin's charming, scandal-prone cousin.
"Maybe… maybe Young Master Felan actually likes this woman?" Secretary Yun offered weakly.
Shin sneered and turned back to his paperwork. "He has the taste of a fruit fly."
He glanced at a financial report and frowned. "Who gave this absurd 20% annual return estimate?"
"Um… Mr. Lim from Finance."
"Fire him."
"Understood. HR will handle it."
Secretary Yun internally said a prayer for the portly Mr. Lim—who had, coincidentally, passed out during the meeting. Nepotism won't save you now, buddy.
Shin tossed another stack of poorly written reports into the trash.
"Has our company started paying in peanuts? Is that why everyone's half-assing their work?"
"Perhaps a warning letter…?"
"Final warning. Next time, I'll fire the entire department."
Secretary Yun grimaced in sympathy for the soon-to-be-traumatized staff.
"Prepare the car."
With a curt nod, he left. Shin lit a cigarette and stared out the glass wall, eyes narrowing.
Gaia Bar. Ugh.
---
[Gaia Bar]
Welcome to the playground of Sin City's rich and restless. Gaia Bar is a five-star establishment with three moods: exclusive VIP, deluxe karaoke rooms, and a dance floor where trust funds and inhibitions go to die.
Yeri and Nina pushed through the crowd, music blasting their eardrums.
"I thought you were dying or something!" Nina yelled over the music. "Your dad let you come here?!"
Yeri grinned, hips swaying. "He thinks I'm home. They're at some snobby social gathering!"
"You're insane!" Nina smacked her arm. "Don't come crying to me when you get grounded for life."
"C'mon! It's my birthday!" Yeri laughed and headed to the bar.
"This place is a scam. $350 for wine?! It better age me backwards!" Nina complained.
Yeri smirked and tilted her head toward a group of attractive men. "Nina, shall we put our beauty to use?"
One of the guys looked like he walked off a runway.
"You're drunk already, aren't you?" Nina squinted. "Since when are you flirty?"
Yeri winked. "Since I realized being sick stole my youth. If I keep waiting for doctors to fix me, I'll be eighty by the time I go to a party."
Fair enough.
In school, Yeri had the reputation of a delicate porcelain doll—beautiful, unreachable, and frequently absent due to mysterious health issues.
Nina, bless her soul, grew somber. "Don't worry, Yz. I'll find you a loyal husband."
Yeri gagged. "Who said anything about marriage?!"
Nina looked so heartbroken, you'd think Yeri just confessed she was becoming a nun. In her mind, she saw old-lady Yeri living in a house full of cats.
Yeri sighed. "Stop writing my tragic future in your head."
---
[VIP Lounge – Gaia Bar]
The atmosphere in the VIP room was ten shades darker than the rest of the bar. Here, men didn't party. They plotted.
The meeting was supposed to be hosted by the suave Tristan Felan. Instead, they got his cousin—the human embodiment of an execution notice: Shin Keir.
Sin City's underworld, much like its nightlife, is divided. Mafia groups once ran wild, but now it's a shadowy hierarchy where only the strongest survive.
One such group? Hexion. A mafia organization so efficient it felt like Amazon Prime for crime. In just six years, they'd absorbed or crushed every rival.
Drego Tim, a minor crime boss, came tonight hoping to ally with Hexion. But now, seated across from Shin Keir, he questioned all his life choices.
This man doesn't negotiate. He eliminates obstacles.
"Young Master Keir, how about—"
"Denied."
The room collectively flinched.
Why was he even here?
Shin listened to their proposals with the same expression he gave bad coffee. Blank. Offended.
Then Droopy Eyes spoke up, attempting to joke about Shin's notorious aversion to women.
Shin's finger tapped the armrest. The sound alone made hearts stop.
"Our laws may not prohibit prostitution," he said flatly, "but coercion, blackmail, and human trafficking? That's illegal. You expect us to protect that?"
No one breathed.
Finally, Drego asked carefully, "What about high-end service auctions?"
"Good," Shin said.
Droopy Eyes smirked in victory.
Shin's glare turned on him. "Not you."
"Young Master Keir must've had a reason, right?"
"Greasy face. Not ideal for business."
Everyone: "..."
Whoever said Shin Keir doesn't hold grudges clearly had never met him. May their soul rest in pieces.
Time crawled by until, eventually, an agreement was reached—more out of fear than diplomacy.
---
Shin Keir didn't wait for Secretary Yun, who had disappeared for a quick bathroom break. He stormed out of the VIP room like a vengeance-fueled ghost and took the emergency corridor to avoid the chaos of the dance floor.
The hallway was dim, quiet—his preferred environment.
Just as he reached for his phone, he slammed into something soft.
His face crumpled in slow-motion horror.
The air went still, heavy with tension.
What did he just bump into?
Shin's jaw clenched, neck veins popping like warning signals. His eyes darkened with barely concealed fury.
"GET. OFF."
"..."
The other party didn't respond. She was drunk—comically so. Her head lolled slightly, vision fuzzy, body uncooperative. Something hard had stopped her fall.
A wall? A statue?
Instinctively, she hugged it. It smelled really good. Comforting, even.
"So hard... so relaxing..." she mumbled against him.
Shin: "..."
Ah, fantastic. It had been ages since he'd felt the urge to snap someone's neck.
His hand shot out, grabbing the back of her neck.
She jolted upright in surprise, head lifting to meet his gaze.
And then, time screeched to a halt.
Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes wide and watery. Despite being obviously inebriated, she looked... captivating.
What the hell?
Did he just admire a drunken creature?
"You—you can move?!" she gasped, staring at him like he was a miracle.
Shin: "..."
Forget it. She's clearly a lunatic.
She was still clinging to him. He looked down at her like she was a particularly dense fungus.
"You are very, very..." She paused, biting her lip.
"Let go!" he snapped.
"Oh~" She reluctantly let go, took a wobbly step back, and groaned. "Waah... I thought I was going to throw up!"
Shin recoiled like she'd just sneezed pure filth on him. "You're blocking the way. Move."
"I'm not a wall. Why am I blocking the way?"
"Because you are in the way."
The hallway was too narrow. He didn't want to get close in case she decided to vomit on his designer shoes.
Then she tilted her head with a grin. "You're lost, aren't you?"
Shin: "..."
"Come, come! I'll take you home! There's yummy food and a warm bed waiting!"
Shin nearly combusted. "You do not have the qualifications to take me home!"
"Qualifications?" she echoed, blinking.
Then, with the confidence of someone with no self-awareness or sobriety, she grabbed his right hand and pressed it to her chest.
"I have a clear conscience!" she declared. "You can feel it—no silicone, no injections. It's 100% organic!"
Shin's brain short-circuited.
Why... why didn't he fling her across the hall the moment she collided with him?
He, Shin Keir—ice king, boardroom tyrant—was letting a drunken stranger talk about her breasts like they were ethically-sourced produce.
Without a word, he shoved her off and marched away.
She swayed on her feet, staring after him. "Meanie. Don't blame me if you get lost!" she muttered.