🎤|Thanos/Su bon

Seoul. 2026. Neon signs flickered through the smog, and beats from nearby clubs shook the sidewalks. Thanos, also known as Choi Soo-bong, sat in the back seat of a tinted limousine, inhaling the sweet smoke of an electronic cigarette. His purple hair seemed to pulse in time with the music blasting from the speakers. He was on top of the world, or so it seemed to him. Concerts, parties, money—everything was at his feet. But behind the mask of self-confidence lay a void that he desperately tried to fill with another dose of a high.

Inside "The Pentagon," in the dim light and thick smoke, Gyu Nam-gyu was wiping down the bar counter. His hands moved quickly and skillfully, while his gaze remained detached. He saw everything: drug deals, drunken fights, fleeting romances. But nothing could make him feel anything. He was an invisible man, a ghost in this place of vice. His life was a monotonous routine, punctuated by rare flashes of rage and tactility that he carefully suppressed within.

This evening, the atmosphere was particularly tense. Rumors about the appearance of Thanos, a rap idol whose lyrics were steeped in protest and anarchy, were stirring up the regulars. Nam-gyu wasn't interested in music, but Thanos's name was on everyone's lips. Soon, the roar of the crowd died down, and a purple figure stepped onto the stage. Thanos. His gaze, cold and arrogant, swept across the room, and the crowd froze.

Thanos's rap was like an explosion. Dirty rhymes exposing power and hypocrisy made the crowd roar. Nam-gyu didn't understand the meaning of the words, but he felt the energy permeating every sound. At one point, Thanos's and Nam-gyu's eyes met. Something flickered in the rapper's purple eyes that Nam-gyu couldn't decipher.

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

"Hey, barista," he said, looking straight into Nam-gyu's eyes.

"Pour me something strong. And talk to me."