Around the year 2005, the United States and Japan signed a sweeping economic and security pact.
Rising tensions in East Asia such as China's growing military strength, the uncertainty of North Korea, and competition over global trade routes forced both nations to seek a deeper form of cooperation.
Out of that agreement came something unprecedented: the creation of a joint metropolitan project on Californian soil, a city designed to anchor Japanese industry directly in the Pacific coast of America.
They called it Kibou City. In Japanese, it meant City of Hope; a name chosen to symbolize a future built from former enemies turned allies.
But the reasons were not sentimental.
Washington wanted Japanese capital and manufacturing power tied more tightly to American soil, reducing reliance on unstable supply chains. Tokyo wanted guaranteed access to U.S. markets and a permanent base of operations in the West.
The deal was sealed with tax breaks, land grants, and a special governance framework that allowed Japanese corporations to invest and operate with unusual freedom inside California.
Big names rushed in: Toyota, Tesla, Sony, Mitsubishi and all the rest. They all partnered with American construction firms to raise entire neighborhoods.
Tech giants like Apple and Google joined hands with their Japanese counterparts to make Kibou City a hub of both culture and commerce.
Because of this, multiple corporations were made, companies battled each other while making sure Kibou City remained the biggest city of finance and wealth.
Dylan Lee worked in one of these companies.
Sunlight Group to be specific. He had the role of Managing Director of Investor Relations, a role most people would kill for.
If anyone asked Dylan, it was dreadfully boring, and he didn't even have any actual authority when it came to what happened in the company.
Still, it paid well.
He had a spacious apartment in an upscale neighborhood of the city. It was granted to him by the company so he didn't even have to cut a piece out of his hefty paycheck.
And yet, despite all this, Dylan Lee was miserable.
At 6'3, with sharp cheekbones and an angular jawline, one might think he'd have no trouble with women. Or with people in general.
But there was something about him that unsettled everyone around him.
Perhaps it was his eyes. Dylan was aware that they were deep-set and cold, like he was always thinking something inappropriate. He'd tried to get rid of the eye bags and shadows, but they persisted, regardless of the face cream.
His mannerisms were stiff, awkward, and painfully out of sync with social cues. Or maybe it was the way he spoke, flat and emotionless, like he was perpetually bored.
He had all the cues that one would associate with a serial killer. A young Dexter Morgan.
But Dylan wasn't brave enough to approach people, talk more of killing them. Whatever it was in the end, people just didn't like him. Women especially.
And they let him know it.
Today was Monday, and anyone who actually had a job, knew how they were. The sun was particularly hotter, cars were honking, voices were being raised and people moved helter-skelter in and out of skyscrapers.
Amongst them was Dylan.
He'd just stepped down from his old motorcycle—one he preferred for sentimental reasons over a newer one—and entered the sliding doors of Sunlight Group.
The receptionist, Hana Simpsons, watched him with a suspicious gaze before rolling her eyes as he signed in and entered the elevator.
Dylan sighed once inside the elevator. Hana was a very pretty girl. She had glossy dark hair and big blue eyes.
He'd always been kind and respectful to her ever since she'd started working here, but like the rest, she just naturally found him… appalling.
Dylan puffed air out of his mouth, causing a lock of his thick dark hair to bounce. Maybe it was time to get accustomed to the idea of dying single.
The elevator doors opened.
As he strode passed the sleek, glass-walled cubicles of Sunlight Group's main floor, employees barely acknowledged him.
Conversations died as he approached, only to resume in hushed whispers as soon as he passed. Dylan was pretty much used to that happening.
"Good morning, Mr. Lee," his secretary, Lacey, greeted with the enthusiasm of someone forced to acknowledge a stain on her desk.
"Morning," he replied dryly, not breaking stride.
As one of the major powers in Kibou City, Sunlight Group was more than a company; it was an empire.
Specializing in finance, energy, real estate, and tech, it held monopolistic control over multiple industries. If a person in Kibou City so much as flipped on a light switch, checked their bank balance, or even drove to work, they were likely using something owned by Sunlight Group.
And yet, despite working in one of its most influential departments, Dylan had no real authority. Everyone knew he only got his position because of his parents—two well-respected government officials.
His mother, Kumiko Lee, a South Korean immigrant with Japanese nationality. She was an ambassador for Japan and owned a significant percentage of the company's shares.
And his father, Thomas Lee, an American lawyer and a business man who was drowning in debt before marrying Kumiko. His tech business skyrocketed soon after and he gained shares owned by Kumiko.
Because of their power, they had managed to get their introvert son a job in the company. One that they knew would keep him financially stable even while they were away.
Dylan was the definition of nepotism, and it wasn't difficult to figure out that it was one of the reasons people despised him.
Nearing his cubicle-like office, Dylan's eye caught the sight of Diana Miller, the department's Senior Executive and possibly the coldest woman Lee had ever met.
Diana was stunning. All long legs, sharp features, and icy blue eyes that could cut a man down with a glance.
She was in her late thirties, and her motherly figures were accentuated with her ravishing curves. She had a stoic policy against office romance, at least in her department, and everyone made sure to follow to avoid her wrath.
She was respected and even loved.
But to Dylan, she was a walking migraine. She detested him, made no secret of it, and treated him like a pest she couldn't quite squash.
As he made his way toward his desk, he spotted her struggling to reach a stack of documents on the highest shelf of a filing cabinet.
First, his eyes caught the gentle sway of her hips… and the way her butt strained against her tight grey pencil skirt. Dylan didn't mean to stare, but he wasn't any more than a man.
Pretty soon though, he recovered himself and instinctively moved to help her.
"Here, let me—"
She jerked away, her face twisting in disgust. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Dylan froze, his face barely even showing real surprise. "Helping?"
Diana scoffed. "God, you really are creepy. Just standing there, watching me like that?"
"I—"
"Forget it." She snatched the papers from a lower shelf instead, shooting him a glare before striding off. Several employees nearby chuckled under their breath.
Dylan exhaled sharply. It might have been a perverted thing to think, but he wouldn't mind her yelling at him if it meant he could watch her walk away like that.
...To watch the way her round, firm ass moved and the way her hips…
'Stop it, Dylan.'
He realized that everyone was staring at him. More like glaring.
He pushed past the lump forming in his throat, and without another word, turned on his heel and made a detour to the restroom.
Inside, he leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection.
'Most people would kill for my life,' he thought. 'A fine apartment. A good job.'
'But I hate it. Somehow, I always end up being the creep. Just because of how I look. Because of Mom and Dad.'
He let out a tired sigh.
'I know self loathe sucks but what else can I do? How can I prove to these people that I'm not a creep, and I'm not a bad person for accepting this job?'
He turned on the tap, scooped some of the running water and washed his face. 'It's not like I can change my face. Or my parents. And everyone just hates me without giving me a chance to prove myself.'
'Yeah, well. I hate them too.'
Once he was done, he took some tissue and dried his face. Then he looked into the mirror.
It was the same. Still the same face. The eye bags and the shadows. The gloom etched into his chiseled features.
He tightened his lips in disappointment. 'I just wish I could get a sign or something. A sign that things could change.'
PLOP!!
'Mhm?'
Something had just fallen in front of him.
Dylan looked up at the ceiling and then down into the sink. There, he found a glowing orb bobbed on the surface of the draining water.
He frowned. "What is this odd looking thing?"