The lobby of Black Rose Entertainment was a temple of modern glass and polished chrome, a place where dreams were manufactured for the masses. It was buzzing with the frantic energy of a Monday morning; staff members scurried across the white marble floors, clutching tablets and hot coffees, while the digital screens on the walls looped high-definition footage of the agency's top stars.
Vivian Ahn walked through the glass doors with a posture that was painfully stiff. Every step felt like she was balancing on a tightrope. Her hair was tied back in a neat, professional ponytail, and she had spent nearly an hour that morning using high-coverage concealer to mask the yellowish-purple bruise ripening under her collarbone.
[No matter how beautiful the building was… the people inside had no idea I lived in hell.]
As she passed, the air seemed to chill. Staff members stopped their conversations to bow politely, their eyes lingering a second too long on her face.
"CEO's wife is here…" one staffer whispered to another, their voices barely carrying over the lobby's ambient music.
"She looks tired today…" the other replied, shielding her mouth with a clipboard.
Vivian stared straight ahead, her face a mask of practiced indifference. She had learned long ago that in this building, silence was the only armor she had left.
The top floor was silent, insulated from the noise of the trainees and staff below. Vivian entered the CEO's office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her with a sound like a prison cell locking.
Baek Soryeon sat behind his massive mahogany desk, the silhouette of the city's skyline framing him like a throne. Despite the early hour, he was swirling a glass of amber whiskey, the ice clinking mockingly against the glass.
"You're late," he said. His tone wasn't a shout; it was sharp and calm—the kind of cold that freezes the blood in your veins before you even realize you're dying.
Vivian glanced at the digital clock on his wall. "…It's 9:01," she whispered.
In a blurred movement, Soryeon was on his feet. He crossed the room and grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into the bone with a sudden, rough strength.
"I said you're late," he hissed, his face inches from hers.
Vivian winced, a soft gasp escaping her lips as the pressure flared. Soryeon stared at her for a moment, his eyes scanning her face for the flicker of fear that he fed on. Satisfied, he smirks and releases her, walking a slow circle around her like a wolf inspecting its kill.
"Anyway. From today onwards you'll collaborate with Shin Corvus," he announced, his voice returning to a business-like drone.
Vivian's eyes widened slightly. The blonde idol from the wedding—the one who had seen her secret.
Soryeon leaned close, his mocking smile brushing against her cheek. "Don't look so shocked. You two look good together on camera. Perfect for money." He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw in a gesture that looked loving from a distance but felt like a threat up close. "Try not to embarrass me."
The hallway leading to the practice rooms was long and clinical. Vivian's fingers trembled as she clutched her water bottle, the plastic crinkling under her grip.
Shin Corvus… she thought. The one who saw the cut on my shoulder. The memory of his eyes—the way they had softened with recognition—haunted her. She stopped at the door of Studio 4, taking a deep, shaky breath to steady her heart before pushing it open.
The room was vast, mirrored on all sides, and smelled of cedar and floor wax. Shin Corvus was already there. He was stretching on the floor, his headphones on, his movements fluid and disciplined. He glanced up as she entered, his expression quiet and unreadable.
He pulled the headphones around his neck and gave her a short, polite nod. "Morning," he said, his voice a low, calm rumble that seemed to vibrate in the empty room.
"Morning," Vivian replied, avoiding his eye contact by focusing on setting her bag down.
The rehearsal began in a thick, heavy silence. They moved through the initial blocking, adjusting mic stands and marking the choreography. Every time their shadows overlapped on the floor, Vivian felt a jolt of electricity. At one point, her foot slipped on a slick patch of the floor, and she stumbled.
Before she could fall, Corvus's hand shot out, catching her elbow with a firm, steadying grip. The contact lasted only a second, but it felt like an eternity.
"You don't have to push yourself today," Corvus said quietly, his eyes searching hers. "We can go slow."
"…I'm fine," Vivian lied, forcing a smile that was so brittle it felt like it might shatter. He clearly didn't believe her, but he didn't push.
As the hours passed, the intensity of the practice increased. Vivian moved through a series of sharp, rhythmic movements, but as she reached upward during a turn, her sleeveless crop top lifted just an inch. It was enough.
Across her ribs, the faint, mottled bruises from Soryeon's "reminders" were visible against her pale skin.
Corvus paused mid-motion. His jaw tightened so hard a muscle pulsed in his cheek.
[Flashback]
For a split second, the practice room vanished. He was back in that gray, desaturated room. His mother slumped in a chair… her wrist cut… the sound of a man's voice shouting in the other room while young Shin cried until his throat was raw.
[Present Day]
Corvus quickly looked away, his face turning into a mask of stone as he pretended he hadn't seen anything. But Vivian had noticed his reaction. She froze, her breath coming in short gasps as she realized her secret was out once more. She grabbed a discarded t-shirt from her bag and pulled it on with frantic, clumsy movements.
The rest of the session was a blur of tension and avoided glances. When the clock finally hit the end of their slot, Vivian gathered her things with trembling hands, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.
"See you tomorrow," Corvus said softly, his voice echoing in the large room.
"…Yes. Goodnight," she managed to say before rushing out of the door.
Corvus stood alone in the center of the room, watching the door close. His expression was troubled, his fists clenched at his sides.
[CORVUS: Those weren't normal bruises. Whoever did that… I'll find out.]
Under the harsh fluorescent lights, the scar over his eye seemed to catch the light, his expression darkening with a newfound purpose.
[The collaboration was just beginning… and so was everything else.]