The folder, now a physical weight of hidden secrets, dug into Seo-yeon's thigh as she walked through the maze-like hallways. The quiet was stifling, a jarring contrast to the buzzing tension inside her.
Every step was a conscious movement, a rebellion against the unseen gaze she knew was upon her. The air, heavy with the smell of waxed wood and high-end perfume, was electric, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
She arrived at the private lounge, a room that was meant for excess and solitude. The soft, yellowish lights fell across faces, making the rich, velvety chairs soft, dark, featureless things.
The bar, a shining expanse of smooth mahogany, mirrored the cold, watchful stare of the surveillance camera. It was a room that spoke of secrets, a place where transactions were negotiated and lives were controlled.
