Han Yura had always known how to dress for power.The delicate chain of diamonds at her throat, the slim black dress hugging her curves just enough to tease without surrendering. Even her soft makeup — glossy pink lips, gentle contour — was calculated to project flawless, controlled elegance.
It didn't fool Kang Jinhyuk for a heartbeat.
He sat behind his wide, obsidian desk at Nyx Entertainment's executive floor, fingers steepled, watching her with the bored amusement of a predator eyeing a trapped fawn. Seoul's afternoon sun cut through the wall of windows, lighting up dust motes that seemed to dance nervously around her.
Yura tried to smile. It wavered.
"I'm... grateful for this opportunity, Chairman Kang."Her voice trembled only slightly."Nyx is such an exciting brand. I believe we can elevate each other's futures."
Jinhyuk tilted his head. Slowly. As if considering whether she was a sentient creature or merely noise.
"Is that so?"
She nodded too quickly.
"Of course. I have nearly eight million followers across platforms. I bring tremendous value—"
"Sit."
The word snapped out like a whip.Yura flinched and lowered herself into the white leather chair across from him, knuckles whitening on her small purse.
Jinhyuk regarded her for a long moment, then tapped his tablet. The massive screen on the wall behind him lit up. Grainy video appeared — a swanky hotel room, mirrored walls, gold fixtures. A younger Yura giggled into the camera, drunk and breathless, as a fat older executive pawed at her dress.
"Say it for me, baby. Who owns your tight little body?"
Yura pouted playfully."You do, director-nim... as long as your card stays heavy."
The video cut out.Silence snapped over the room, thick and strangling.
Yura's mouth hung open, a tiny strangled sound escaping her throat. She surged to her feet, hands splayed.
"That— That was years ago! You can't— That was supposed to be private—"
Jinhyuk didn't blink.
"It was never private. Not when the man filming it made half his fortune blackmailing starlets exactly like you."
Her knees wobbled. She sank back into the chair as if her strings had been cut.
"Please... I've worked so hard to clean up my image. If this gets out—"
"If this gets out," Jinhyuk drawled, "you'll be lucky if your fans only abandon you. Seoul's gossip rags will feast on your carcass for months. Sponsors will yank contracts. Your parents—"He paused, letting it linger."—will likely pretend they never had a daughter."
Her painted lips quivered. Tears glossed her wide brown eyes.
He pushed a thick folder across the desk.Her trembling fingers took it, flipping pages. The contract inside was slick, minimalist, but dense. The clauses were barbed hooks — performance obligations, exclusivity agreements, personal appearance controls. One entire section was devoted to "special private functions," signed under a strict NDA.
Yura swallowed hard.
"This is... you'd control everything I do. Where I go, who I see—"
"Who you sleep with," Jinhyuk added softly, almost kindly.Her eyes flew to his."You will attend dinners with investors. You will sing or dance or pour drinks if I say so. You'll smile for cameras, or drop to your knees for private assurances. Whatever I decide maximizes your worth."
Yura's breath hitched. Her thighs pressed together. Shame colored her cheeks a violent red.
"And if I refuse?"
Jinhyuk leaned back, steepling his fingers again, a dark smile playing on his lips.
"Then tomorrow morning, that video hits every major gossip outlet in Korea. By lunchtime, your followers will be flooding your feed with death threats. By nightfall, your brand partnerships will dissolve. Within a week, you'll be a footnote — another washed-up slut who thought she could play this game."
Silence fell again.Long enough that he could hear the faint tick of the antique clock on his shelf.
Finally, Yura lowered her eyes. Her hands gripped the pen so hard her knuckles blanched.She signed.
The sound of the pen scratching over paper was strangely delicate, almost intimate. When she finished, she just sat there, shoulders hunched, eyes locked on her own signature as if she might somehow erase it by staring hard enough.
Jinhyuk stood. Came around the desk.Yura flinched when his shadow fell over her, her breath fluttering like a trapped bird's.
He leaned down, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek.She froze — the tears on her lower lashes catching the sunlight.
"Tomorrow, you'll come to my penthouse," he murmured."And we'll finalize your... personal contract. Completely."
Yura shivered, her mascara threatening to run.
"Yes... Chairman Kang."
His smile was soft. Almost sweet.
"Good girl."
When she finally fled the office, the door clicked shut behind her, leaving behind only the faint trace of expensive perfume.Jinhyuk stood there for a moment, eyes half-lidded.
It wasn't just about sex. Or revenge.It was about power — raw, absolute, deliciously addicting.Watching someone who once laughed at your ruin now kneel, shaking, tears catching on painted lips.
He checked his watch.There were three more meetings scheduled for the afternoon — each one another step in tightening his grip around Seoul's throat.