The glowing phone display, reflecting Haneul’s rigid face, burned the message into their minds. “The first warning. Walk away.” “Walk away from what?” Rina’s voice, a tight thread, cut through the quiet. “The inheritance? Or… from my life?” Haneul pocketed his phone, the movement sharp, decisive. “Neither.” His gaze fixed on Director Kang, a challenge in its depth. “He thinks he can scare me. He thinks I’ll fold. He underestimates my resolve, and yours.” Director Kang sighed, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. “He’s escalating. This isn’t just about corporate maneuvers anymore. He’s showing his hand, Haneul. What do you intend to do?” “Show him mine.” Haneul’s eyes, chips of obsidian moments ago, now held a dangerous glint. “He wants to play publicly? Fine. We’ll give him a show. Arrange a dinner. High-profile. Open to press. At The Zenith Table. And make sure he’s there. Rina too, of course. And Secretary Im.” Rina blinked. “A dinner? With Tae-woo? Are you insane? He just tried to have us run off the road.” “Exactly.” Haneul’s lips twisted in a humorless smile. “He expects me to cower. To hide. Instead, I’ll force him to sit across from me, under the glare of every socialite and camera lens in Seoul, and pretend we’re a happy family. It’s a power play. He’s trying to isolate me. I’m showing him he failed, and that I have allies.” He glanced at Rina, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “You’re an excellent prop, Chae Rina. Use those idol skills. Charm him.” Rina bristled. “A prop? I’m not a prop. I’m a shield. And I’m certainly not charming that snake.” But a thought sparked in her mind. Humiliation. That was a currency Tae-woo understood. And she was a K-pop idol, a master of brand perception. She could play this game. “Just play the doting wife,” Haneul continued, oblivious to her internal machinations. “Smile. Laugh at his terrible jokes. Make him believe we’re stronger, not weaker, after his little stunt.” The Zenith Table, perched on the 100th floor of the Skyward Pinnacle, was a shrine to opulence and a favored hunting ground for paparazzi. Every detail of their arrival was orchestrated. Haneul, in a perfectly tailored dark suit, exuded a controlled power. Rina, shimmering in an emerald silk dress, clung to his arm, her smile radiant, her eyes carefully devoid of the icy tension that gripped her stomach. Flashes exploded around them, camera shutters a frantic chorus. Inside, the restaurant hummed with hushed conversations and the clink of silverware. Jin Tae-woo was already seated at a prominent table by the panoramic window, his pristine white suit a stark contrast to the evening’s shadows. Secretary Im Soo-ah sat beside him, her usual demure expression unwavering. She wore a simple charcoal dress, blending into the background like a well-appointed piece of furniture. “Haneul! Rina-ssi!” Tae-woo rose, a predatory grin stretching his lips. He extended a hand to Haneul, his grip surprisingly firm. “So glad you could make it. Especially after your… exciting evening.” His eyes flicked to Rina, a sharp, almost imperceptible assessment. “Such a shame about the car. Good thing Haneul is so… athletic.” Haneul’s smile didn’t waver. “Indeed. Always prepared for unexpected bumps in the road. Isn’t that right, cousin?” They settled, the atmosphere at their table thick with antagonism masked by polite smiles. The waitstaff moved with practiced grace, delivering an array of exquisite dishes. Tae-woo, meanwhile, played the perfect host, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, each compliment a thinly veiled barb. “Rina-ssi, your recent single, ‘Starlight Whisper,’ is quite captivating,” Tae-woo purred, swirling the crimson liquid in his wine glass. “Though I hear there were some… difficulties with its promotion. A few key broadcast slots unexpectedly pulled. A real shame for a talent like yours.” His gaze bored into her, a promise of further sabotage. Rina’s smile remained fixed. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed. My agency is quite adept at navigating such… minor inconveniences. Besides, genuine talent always finds its way to the top, wouldn’t you agree, Tae-woo-ssi?” Her tone was light, airy, but her eyes held a challenge. She picked up her own wine glass, a delicate crystal flute brimming with a robust Bordeaux. “Perhaps,” Tae-woo mused, undeterred. “But the entertainment industry is a fickle beast. One bad scandal, one misstep… and even the brightest stars can fall into obscurity. Especially when one is connected to… certain controversial figures.” He leaned back, a smug satisfaction radiating from him. The entire restaurant could hear him, or at least, those at nearby tables could. It was a performance, for everyone. Haneul’s hand, resting under the table, clenched into a fist. He opened his mouth, but Rina’s soft voice cut him off. “Oh, Tae-woo-ssi, you’re so insightful!” she chirped, her eyes wide and innocent. “It’s almost like you know everything about the industry’s pitfalls. Perhaps you’ve even had a hand in some of them?” She tilted her head, her smile unwavering. Then, with a practiced, almost imperceptible flick of her wrist, her elbow seemed to snag the edge of the table. The full glass of deep red wine arced through the air, painting a vivid, sprawling stain across Tae-woo’s pristine white suit jacket, down his tie, and onto his lap. A collective gasp rippled through the nearby tables. Tae-woo froze, his eyes, moments ago filled with cold menace, now wide with shock and pure, unadulterated fury. The crimson blotch expanded, a stark, vulgar contrast against the immaculate white. “Oh, my heavens! I am so, so terribly sorry!” Rina exclaimed, her voice filled with feigned distress, her hand flying to her mouth. “How clumsy of me! My apologies, Tae-woo-ssi! I must have been so distracted by your fascinating insights into the entertainment world, I completely lost my grip!” She grabbed a napkin, making a show of dabbing ineffectively at the sprawling stain, only serving to spread it further. A few patrons nearby stifled laughter. Tae-woo surged to his feet, his face a mask of purple rage. “You… you clumsy fool!” he hissed, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “This suit is bespoke! A limited edition!” Haneul, maintaining a neutral expression, offered a handkerchief. “A true shame, cousin. But Rina-ssi meant well. Such an enthusiastic listener.” He caught Rina’s eye, a fleeting spark of amusement dancing in his own. She’d done well. “I’ll have the dry-cleaning bill sent to your agency, Rina-ssi,” Tae-woo seethed, turning on his heel and stalking away, his ruined suit an open declaration of his humiliation. Secretary Im Soo-ah offered a small, apologetic bow before following him, her gaze briefly meeting Haneul’s before she left. The dinner continued, though the tension had been momentarily broken by Rina’s audacious act. Haneul ate with renewed focus, an unreadable expression on his face. As they were preparing to leave, having finally made their farewells to the few lingering, amused patrons, Secretary Im reappeared, her face carefully blank. She approached Haneul, ostensibly to hand him a forgotten menu. As their fingers brushed, Haneul felt something small and cool pass into his palm. He closed his fingers around it, barely acknowledging her with a nod. “Thank you, Secretary Im.” Her voice was a soft murmur, almost swallowed by the ambient music. “He’s liquidating offshore shell corporations. The ‘accident’… was a test of your resolve. He’s planning to run. This is what I could find.” She gave another small bow and vanished into the bustling restaurant. Back in the sterile, monitored confines of Elysian Tower, Haneul barely waited for Director Kang to finish locking the door. He moved to his study, Rina following silently. He pulled his sleek, obsidian laptop from its case and inserted the discreet flash drive Soo-ah had given him. The monitor flickered to life. A progress bar appeared, then a series of command lines scrolled rapidly. Haneul leaned closer, his brow furrowed. Suddenly, the monitor blared crimson. A skull and crossbones icon materialized, pulsating with malevolent light. Text flashed: **ACCESS DENIED. SYSTEM COMPROMISED.** Haneul flinched back as the laptop went black. Then, a single, ominous line of text appeared, glowing sickly green against the dark screen: **ALL DATA ERASED. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FINAL WARNING.**

A Dinner with the Devil