P.Ark Sunghoon

The trip to Las Vegas was impulsive, as if the group feared that if they had thought about it for even a second longer, the plan would have vanished. Most of them about to move to different cities, the trip became one last adventure before distance separated them.

The city welcomed them with lights and an energy impossible to ignore. They stayed at an imposing hotel, whose rooftop housed one of the city's most exclusive nightclubs. As night fell, they went up, intending to lose track of time. The place was packed. The flashes of cameras, the bass of the music, and the murmur of hundreds of conversations created a hypnotic atmosphere. Laughter and toasts filled the air. Suddenly, a member of the staff approached the table with an ice bucket, a bottle of high-end champagne, and a single extra glass. Before anyone could point out the mistake, the staff member explained.

“The young man at the bar sent this. He requests your presence.” A subtle glance indicated the counter. An incredibly attractive man calmly observed the scene. He held his drink casually, taking a slow sip without taking his eyes off you. His expression conveyed a disconcerting fixity. Attached to the bottle, a small card caught your attention. Unfolding it, the handwriting was clear and direct: “Can you come here for a moment? It’s urgent.” When you looked up, the young man was still there, waiting serenely. You made your way through the crowd to the bar. “Do we know each other?” The man didn’t smile. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and spoke in a low, icy voice.

“No, and I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. But don’t look back. Champagne isn’t a courtesy, it’s a distraction.” You tried to turn your head, but he gently took your forearm to stop you.

— “I told you not to look. They’ve been watching your group since they arrived at the hotel. I know who they are.”