Peter swallowed, momentarily forgetting his culinary enthusiasm.
"Right, the show," he said, regaining his composure.
"It will be in a small village outside Shanghai City, we are given only 1,000 yuan of income and we must survive with that income, those with the most income will win the prize money," Peter replied.
"Okay and how do we earn money?"
"How we earn it is up to us but we can't use our family, or our connections it has to stick in that small village, oh and this is a reality show so they are people watching us viewers," Peter said.
Seojun's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of calculating interest crossing his face. The premise was… intriguing. A deliberate stripping away of privilege and reliance on ingenuity. It appealed to a certain detached curiosity he possessed, a desire to observe the mechanics of human behavior under duress.
"And the cameras?" Seojun inquired, his voice cool and analytical.
"Are they constant? Invasive?"
Peter shrugged.
"Pretty much. They'll be following us around, documenting our every move. There are designated 'safe zones' where they can't film, but those are few and far between."
Seojun considered this for a moment, his fingers drumming lightly on the pristine white tablecloth. The lack of privacy was a significant drawback, but not insurmountable.
"Okay will do it."
Peter's jaw dropped.
"Wait, seriously? You're in? After all that… restaurant ownership, fortune telling, cryptic pronouncements… you're going to live in a rural village and hustle for 1,000 yuan?"
Seojun met his incredulous gaze with an unblinking stare.
"It presents an interesting challenge," he stated simply.
"And the potential for observation is… considerable."
He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Besides, it's a chance to experience a different kind of cuisine."
Peter burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief.
"You're unbelievable! You know that, right? Most people would be terrified of being filmed constantly and forced to live off next to nothing. But you? You see it as an opportunity for food delicious food."
"Oh the people from influencers, actors, actress, athletes, and other people it's a mix bunch," Peter said.
Seojun didn't care as long as he can eat and sleep he wouldn't mind if the world ended tomorrow.
The opulent Dove Restaurant faded into a distant memory as Seojun abruptly excused himself, a storm brewing beneath his typically calm exterior. His destination wasn't a leisurely pursuit; it was a calculated move, a reconnaissance mission born from simmering resentment.
He headed to a nondescript hotel, specifically room 9098, a number that held a potent, bitter significance for him. The moment his eyes snapped open after what felt like an eternity of focused intent, the scene before him was a brutal confirmation of his deepest fears and suspicions. There, in the soft glow of the hotel room, lay Angelina, his girlfriend – or rather, the woman he'd allowed himself to believe was his girlfriend – entangled with another man.
The man was a ghost from his past, a figure representing the source of much of his pain: Yolan, Angelina's first love, and a member of the notorious Song family. The memory slammed into him with the force of a physical blow.
Two years prior, Yolan's brother, Jayden, had committed a hit-and-run, nearly killing Seojun. Despite the severity of the crime, Angelina had intervened, pleading with Seojun not to press charges – a blatant display of loyalty to her family and a betrayal that stung deeply. The Duan family had also exerted pressure on him to drop the matter, further isolating him. But the betrayal didn't end there; Yolan's sister, Sierra, had then pushed him from a rooftop, sending him into a six-month coma. He'd narrowly escaped death twice at their hands.
The injustice of it all clawed at him. He'd held back, swallowed his rage, all to protect Quinn, who at the time desperately needed medication provided by the Lyuth family – a lifeline that would have been severed had he pursued justice against the Song and Duan families.
The threat to Quinn's well-being had been a suffocating leash, forcing him to endure their impunity. Yolan, Sierra, and Jayden had all escaped consequences, banished abroad while Seojun was left to grapple with the physical and emotional scars of their actions. The mere sight of Yolan ignited a visceral anger within him, a burning resentment that had simmered beneath the surface for years.
"Angelina, you got to be kidding me! You are sleeping with this man," Seojun spat out, his voice laced with disbelief and a simmering fury that threatened to erupt.
Angelina, roused from her intimate moment, met his outburst with a dismissive sneer.
"Seojun! Don't be so arrogant, you are no longer part of the Duan Family! You are nothing now, stay away from Yolan and his two siblings," she retorted, her words dripping with contempt. The accusation stung, but Seojun recognized the truth in it. His estrangement from the Duan family had left him vulnerable, stripped of the power and influence he once wielded.
"We are dating," Seojun countered, attempting to inject some semblance of reason into the escalating conflict.
"So what," Angelina snapped back, her eyes cold and unyielding.
"You're right, so what?" Seojun retorted, the last vestiges of patience snapping.
"Angelina, we are breaking up." The words were clipped, devoid of emotion, a final severing of a connection that had always been tainted by manipulation and obligation.
The past two years with her had been a charade, a dance orchestrated by Yolan's desires. Angelina had consistently catered to his whims, securing whatever he wanted, and Seojun realized with a chilling clarity that he'd never truly possessed her affection – only endured her compliance. His heart hadn't been in it; his feelings were more akin to simmering resentment than genuine love.
"Good," Angelina spat back, throwing a playing card at him – a symbol of their fractured relationship.
"You are nothing without the Duan Family."
Seojun caught the card with a swift, almost predatory movement, crumpling it in his fist. The gesture was far more forceful than the situation warranted, a physical manifestation of the years of suppressed anger finally finding an outlet.
Without a word, he lashed out, slapping Angelina across the face four times – a controlled burst of violence that didn't cross the line into brutality, but served as a clear and unambiguous declaration of their severed ties. It wasn't about physical pain; it was about asserting dominance, reclaiming a sliver of control in a life that had often felt dictated by others.
"Seojun, I know you are angry but my siblings already learned," Yolan interjected smoothly, sliding a hand around Seojun's waist in what he likely perceived as a comforting gesture. The audacity of the move ignited another surge of fury within Seojun.