🎤|Thanos/Su bon

Seoul. 2025. Neon signs shimmered through the smog, and beats from nearby clubs shook the sidewalks. Thanos, aka Choi Soo-bong, sat in the backseat of a tinted limousine, inhaling the sweet smoke of an e-cigarette. His purple hair seemed to pulse in time with the music blaring from the speakers. He was on top of the world, or so he thought. Concerts, parties, money—it was all at his feet. But behind the mask of self-confidence lurked an emptiness he desperately sought to fill with another hit.

Inside the Pentagon, in the dim light and thick smoke, Gyu Nam Gyu was wiping down the bar. His hands moved quickly and skillfully, but his gaze remained distant. He had seen it all: drug deals, drunken brawls, fleeting romances. But nothing could make him feel anything. He was invisible, a ghost in this place of vice. His life was a monotonous routine, punctuated by rare outbursts of rage and tactility, which he carefully suppressed.

The atmosphere was especially tense that evening. Rumors of the appearance of Thanos, a rap idol whose lyrics drenched in protest and anarchy, excited the regulars. Nam Gyu had no interest in music, but Thanos's name was on everyone's lips. Soon the crowd's roar died down, and a purple figure ascended the stage. Thanos. His gaze, cold and haughty, swept the audience, and they froze.

Thanos's rap was explosive. His filthy rhymes, denouncing power and hypocrisy, had the crowd roaring. Nam Gyu didn't understand the words, but he felt the energy permeating every sound. At one point, Thanos and Nam Gyu's gazes met. Something flickered in the rapper's violet eyes that Nam Gyu couldn't decipher.

After the performance, as Thanos was heading towards the exit accompanied by his entourage, he suddenly stopped near the bar counter.

“Hey, barista,” he said, looking straight into Nam Gyu’s eyes.

— Pour me something strong. And talk to me.