Under the hazy night sky and the blur of neon, Gangnam was loud, restless, very much alive—yet he stood out like a glitch in the simulation. An impossibly handsome young man lingered near the entrance of Big Hype Entertainment's building, tall enough to ruin someone's posture just by standing next to him.
Pale, unblemished skin. Icy blue eyes sharp enough to pass inspection at customs. Silver-gray hair falling perfectly without trying. A fit body wrapped in a charcoal suit and a long coat that looked like it cost someone's rent.
He wasn't just handsome. He looked crafted. Like someone upstairs slapped the "ultra settings" on his character sheet and said, "Yeah, that's the one."
He waited—calm, patient, watching people slip in and out of the building—but everyone else definitely noticed him. Passersby slowed down, whispered, pointed, tripped over their own feet. And Big Hype, being Big Hype, apparently smelled "profit" in the air, because they sent a talent scout out like a hungry pigeon.
The scout took one look at him and instantly turned into a living pair of won signs. Marketability? Off the charts. Sellability? Through the stratosphere. With his business card ready and ambition leaking from his pores, the scout approached.
"Hello, I'm a talent scout from Big Hype Entertainment." He said it in his best English—God bless his soul—but the young man didn't even blink at him.
Thinking the guy just didn't hear him, the scout tapped him on the shoulder.
"Uhhh… ex-excuse me, friend," he tried again, louder, already sweating bullets.
This time the young man finally turned his head. Slowly. Gracefully. And with a stare cold enough to frost over the scout's soul. The scout slapped on his slimy business smile—professional, fake, and somehow making him look even shadier.
"Hello, I'm a talent scout from Big Hype Entertainment," he repeated eagerly. "One look at you and I thought I'd seen a star. What do you say you sign with Big Hype Entertainment? We can definitely make you a star."
The young man looked at him with a calm, icy stare and answered in Korean:
"실례지만, 제발 저를 괴롭히지 마십시오."
With all due respect, sir, please stop bothering me.
And with that, he simply turned his attention back toward the building entrance, as though the scout had already ceased to exist.
The scout clicked his tongue internally. So he could speak Korean this whole time? He cursed in his head, feeling personally victimized for struggling through English for no damn reason. But fine—emotions aside, professionalism was part of the job. And stars meant money. And the boy in front of him? Walking gold mine.
So he swallowed his pride… and stayed right where he was.
The scout kept trying—waving his hand, clearing his throat, doing that awkward little half-step people do when they're desperate for attention. But the young man didn't spare him even a molecule of acknowledgment. He might as well have been trying to talk to a marble statue.
Minutes crawled by, and then the doors of Big Hype slid open.
Two individuals stepped out—the targets he'd been waiting for.
The young man's eyes sharpened.
His posture straightened.
And then he moved—silent, smooth, and without a single word to the scout who had been sweating beside him like a broken faucet.
He walked away just like that.
The scout was left standing there, face bright red—part embarrassment, part volcanic rage. And just when he thought things couldn't get worse… he heard giggling.
High-pitched, merciless, teenage-girl giggling.
He turned and saw a group of high school girls with phones in hand, whispering, pointing, and very much laughing at him. The kind of laughter that pierces a man's soul.
"누굴 보고 웃는 거야?! 요즘 애들은 어른 공경도 모르지?!"
Who are you laughing at?! You kids don't know how to respect your elders, huh?!
The girls practically lost it. He got successfully rage-baited by minors. Tragic.
One of the girls stepped forward, smirking with the confidence of someone who has nothing to lose and everything to comment on.
"아저씨, 어린 남자들한테 작업 거는 거 재밌어요?"
Ajeossi, is it fun hitting on younger guys?
Hollering. Screaming. Chaos.
Her friends doubled over laughing, and even nearby passersby—who had been secretly filming the handsome young man—sniggered at the scout's misery.
Humiliated beyond repair, the scout made a tactical retreat back into Big Hype's building, muttering curses under his breath.
A defeated little gremlin shuffling back into the shadows.
****
The young man—Seth—kept a respectful distance as he shadowed his targets through the nighttime streets. He didn't rush. Didn't stalk. Just waited until he felt the moment was right.
Finally, the two young men stopped to debate grabbing something to eat.
Perfect.
Seth stepped forward, his posture open and polite, his smile soft enough to make someone's knees wobble.
"저기요, 대화 중에 실례합니다. 혹시 두 분께 식사를 대접해도 될까요?"
Excuse me, I apologize for intruding on your conversation. Do you mind if I treat the both of you to a meal?
Ian and Silas exchanged a look instantly. Suspicious. Rightfully so—handsome foreigner shows up offering free food? In Seoul? That's the opening scene of a true crime documentary.
Seth noticed their hesitation and lifted his hands slightly, palms open in a universal "I'm harmless, please don't mace me" gesture.
"이상한 사람도 아니고 수상한 사람도 아닙니다. 그저 두 분께 따뜻한 식사를 대접하고 싶을 뿐이에요."
I promise, I'm not someone weird or suspicious. I just genuinely want to treat the both of you to a hot meal.
The two still looked unsure.
"저기… 혹시 저희를 아세요?"
Hey... Do you know us?, Ian asked, brows knitting together.
Seth's smile turned warm.
"물론 압니다."
As a matter of fact, I do.
And then he offered a small, courteous bow.
"제 이름은 세스 볼코프입니다. 로스앤젤레스에 새로 설립된 엔터테인먼트 회사의 대표입니다. 만나서 반갑습니다, 강이안 님, 실라스 님."
My name is Seth Volkov, and I'm a representative from a newly opened Entertainment Company in Los Angeles. A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kang Ian and Mr. Silas.
He presented each of them a business card—except this wasn't a normal business card.
It was gilded. Heavy. Almost glowing under the streetlights.
Ian and Silas shared another look before hesitantly accepting them.
Silas weighed his in his palm and blurted out:
"이거… 금으로 만든 거예요?"
Is this made of gold?
Seth nodded calmly.
"완전히는 아니지만, 소량 섞여 있습니다."
Well, not entirely, but there is a small amount of it mixed in.
"…뭐라고?!"
The fuck?!, both men exclaimed in perfect harmony.
Silas held the card like it might explode.
"아니 이걸… 아무한테나 그냥 줘요?"
And you just give this out… to anybody?
Seth shook his head politely.
"아무한테나 드리는 건 아니고, 단 몇 분께만 드립니다."
Not just anybody, but just a select few.
Ian still wasn't convinced.
"우릴 식사 대접하고 싶다… 그 이유가 뭐죠?"
You want to treat us to a meal… because?
He narrowed his eyes.
"난 공짜로 먹는 거 안 믿어요."
I don't believe in free meals.
Seth nodded, completely understanding.
"의심하시는 거 당연합니다. 하지만 정말 두 분께 따뜻한 한 끼를 대접하고 싶습니다. 그리고 잠시만 제 이야기를 들어주셨으면 합니다. 두 분께 해가 될 만한 상황에 절대 놓지 않겠습니다. 식사 중에라도 불편하시면 바로 떠나셔도 됩니다. 억지로 붙잡지 않겠습니다. 어떠신가요?"
Completely understand your skepticism. I truly just want to treat you both to a nice meal. I'd also like a bit of your time to explain my reason for approaching you. I promise I would never put either of you in harm's way. And if at any time during the meal you feel uncomfortable, you can leave—I won't stop you. So, how about it?
His sincerity wasn't just convincing—it was disarming.
Tldr: he feeds them, they listen. If they don't like it, they bounce.
Silas squinted at him.
"계산은… 당신이 해요?"
Are you paying?
Seth chuckled softly, smiling like a man who absolutely has the funds.
"네, 물론입니다."
Yes, of course.
After a few minutes of whispered debate—complete with Silas mouthing "bro he's rich-rich" at Ian—they finally nodded.
They agreed.