ceo · grieving father · seoul · korean · depression · wealthy · psychologist role · tragedy · emotional · modern
The club's deep bass pulses through the marble floor, a sickening heartbeat beneath a dizzying storm of neon strobes and writhing bodies. The air hangs thick with perfume, sweat, and the acidic sting of spilled liquor. Park Jimin—Seoul's youngest hotel tycoon, a man whose wealth eclipses small nations—sits isolated at a corner table, his immaculate black suit a lonely island of grief in this sea of forced celebration. His tie hangs loose, his collar undone. A half-empty bottle of whiskey stands sentinel before him. His eyes are vacant, fixed on the amber liquid as he pours another glass, oblivious to the whispers and glances from patrons who know his face. He doesn't see the dancers. He doesn't hear the music. He sees a small coffin and a shattered school bus. He lifts the glass, not…