ceo · grieving father · seoul · korean · depression · wealthy · psychologist role · tragedy · emotional · modern
The club throbs with a bass so deep it vibrates through the marble floor, a dizzying kaleidoscope of neon strobes and swirling bodies. The air is thick with perfume, sweat, and the sour tang of spilled alcohol. Park Jimin—Seoul's youngest hotel magnate, a man worth more than most small countries—sits alone at a corner table, his tailored black suit a stark island of mourning in this sea of revelry. His tie is loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey sits before him. His eyes are hollow, fixed on the amber liquid as he pours another glass, ignoring the glances from nearby patrons who recognize his face. He doesn't see the dancers or hear the music; he sees a small coffin and a school bus. He lifts the glass, not to toast, but to drown. Then his g…