For ten agonizing seconds, the only sound in the massive, million-dollar penthouse was the crunch of a cheap cracker.
Hana sat on the floor, blissfully unaware of the heavy, suffocating tension filling the room. She nibbled on her snack, her big eyes darting between her uncle and the two frozen men at the door.
Chairman Park, the ruthless CEO of Starfall Entertainment, was a man who chewed up rookie actors and spat them out before breakfast. He was used to screaming, throwing ashtrays, and having everyone in the room bow to him.
But right now, he couldn't find his voice.
The Ryu Seung-jo standing in front of him wasn't the spoiled, whiny brat he was used to managing. The man holding that heavy marble bowl had the eyes of a hardened killer. His posture was perfectly balanced, entirely relaxed but completely ready to strike. It was terrifying.
"I won't say it again," Seung-jo said, his voice a low, smooth baritone that sent a chill down Manager Min-ho's spine. "Lower your voice."
Seung-jo slowly set the marble bowl back onto the counter. He didn't slam it. He just placed it down with a heavy thud.
Chairman Park finally blinked, his face flushing red as his anger caught up with his fear.
"What... what is this?" Park demanded, pointing a shaking finger at the toddler on the floor. "Seung-jo, have you lost your mind? You just collapsed on a movie set! There is a dead man in the studio lot! And I walk in here to find you hiding a kid? Whose child is that?!"
"Mine," Seung-jo lied without missing a beat.
Min-ho let out a choked gasp, looking like he was about to faint. "S-Seung-jo, you... you have a secret child?! My career is over—"
"Not my biological kid, you idiot," Seung-jo snapped, shooting Min-ho a glare that instantly silenced him. He looked back at Chairman Park. "She is a distant relative. Family emergency. She's staying here for a few days. End of discussion."
"End of discussion?" Park barked, taking a step forward. "I am your CEO! I own your image! If a single paparazzi snaps a picture of you holding a baby, the rumors will ruin our stock prices! I am calling someone to come pick her up right now—"
Park reached into his suit jacket for his phone.
He didn't even see Seung-jo move.
One second, Seung-jo was leaning casually against the kitchen island. The next second, he was standing directly in front of the CEO. Seung-jo reached out, his flawless, manicured hand clamping down on Park's wrist like a steel vice.
Chairman Park gasped in pain. He tried to pull his arm back, but Seung-jo's grip was immovable.
"I said," Seung-jo whispered, leaning in close so only Park and Min-ho could hear, "she is staying here. If you or anyone from the agency tries to move her, I will personally walk into the lobby of a rival agency tomorrow and sign a contract with them. I will burn Starfall Entertainment to the ground. Do we understand each other, Chairman?"
Park stared into Seung-jo's pitch-black eyes. The idol wasn't bluffing. There was no hesitation, no fear. Just cold, absolute certainty.
"F-Fine," Park stammered, his face pale. "Fine! Let go of me."
Seung-jo released him, stepping back and smoothing out the front of his shirt as if he had just touched something dirty.
"Good," Seung-jo said, his tone returning to a polite, icy calm. He turned to his manager. "Min-ho. Watch the kid. Don't let her eat anything sharp."
Min-ho, trembling from head to toe, nodded frantically. He awkwardly shuffled over to the living room rug and sat down three feet away from Hana, staring at her like she was a ticking time bomb. Hana just blinked at him and offered him a half-chewed apple slice.
Chairman Park rubbed his bruised wrist, swallowing his pride. He needed Seung-jo. The idol was his biggest cash cow.
"The police are coming up the elevator right now," Park said, his voice tight and professional. "We have three minutes to get our story straight about the accident."
Seung-jo leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "What story?"
"The studio's story," Park explained quickly. "The production company cannot afford a safety scandal. They are officially ruling the stuntman's death as user error."
Seung-jo felt his jaw tighten. "User error."
"Yes. They are going to tell the police that Cha Tae-kyung—the stunt double—forgot to secure his main carabiner clip before he jumped. It was his own fault. You didn't see anything. You were in your trailer. You just felt dizzy and collapsed. You nod, you agree, and you keep your mouth shut."
Before Seung-jo could respond, the doorbell chimed.
"Showtime," Chairman Park muttered. "Remember, Seung-jo. Smile and play dumb. Let me do the talking."
Seung-jo didn't say a word. He walked over to the front door and pulled it open.
Standing in the hallway were two police detectives. The older one in the front looked completely exhausted. He had a rumpled trench coat, dark bags under his eyes, and the irritated expression of a man who hated dealing with rich, spoiled celebrities.
"Ryu Seung-jo?" the older detective asked, flashing a badge. "I'm Detective Oh. This is my partner. We need to ask you a few questions about the fatal accident on your set tonight."
"Come in," Seung-jo said smoothly, stepping aside.
The detectives stepped into the penthouse, their boots squeaking on the marble floor. Detective Oh glanced at the living room, pausing for a second when he saw Min-ho awkwardly playing patty-cake with a messy-haired toddler, before turning his attention back to the superstar.
"We understand you had a medical emergency right around the time of the victim's fall," Detective Oh said, pulling out a small notepad. "Glad to see you're recovering. We just need your statement. Did you witness Cha Tae-kyung's jump?"
Chairman Park stepped forward instantly, flashing a fake, polite smile. "Detective, my client was inside his trailer resting at the time. He didn't see anything. As the studio already informed you, the stuntman simply made a tragic mistake with his own equipment—"
"I saw it."
The entire room went dead silent.
Chairman Park froze, his fake smile dropping. He turned and stared at Seung-jo with wide, panicked eyes.
Detective Oh raised an eyebrow, looking past the CEO and focusing entirely on Seung-jo. "You saw it? The studio director said your blinds were drawn."
"The director is lying," Seung-jo said calmly. He walked over to the modern leather sofa and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. He looked like a king holding court. "I was looking directly out the window of my trailer. I saw the entire jump."
"Seung-jo!" Park hissed, his face turning purple. "What are you doing? Stop talking!"
"Quiet, Chairman," Detective Oh snapped, his lazy demeanor instantly vanishing. He pulled a pen out of his pocket and looked at Seung-jo with new interest. "Mr. Ryu. What exactly did you see?"
Seung-jo looked the detective dead in the eyes. He didn't blink.
"I saw a murder."
Min-ho dropped an apple slice on the floor. Chairman Park let out a strangled gasp, grabbing his own chest as if he was about to have a heart attack.
"A murder?" Detective Oh repeated, his voice dropping an octave. "That's a heavy word, son. The stunt coordinator told us the victim failed to clip his harness."
"The stunt coordinator is trying to keep his job," Seung-jo replied smoothly. "Let me save you boys some time. Cha Tae-kyung was a fifteen-year veteran. He didn't miss a clip. The rig they used tonight was a Class-3 dual-pulley wire system. It requires a thick, braided steel tension cable to support a full-grown man falling from thirty feet."
The two detectives stared at him, completely stunned by the highly technical terminology coming out of a pop idol's mouth.
"But they didn't use the braided steel," Seung-jo continued, his voice echoing coldly in the quiet room. "The studio manager ordered the stunt team to swap the main cable for a thin, visually clear wire. It's a wire meant for slow-motion suspension, not a free-fall drop. The moment the stuntman hit the apex of his jump, the tension limit was exceeded. The wire didn't unclip. It snapped in half."
Detective Oh stopped writing. He stared at Seung-jo, his jaw slightly open.
"If you go to the studio lot right now," Seung-jo said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "don't check the harness on the body. Check the primary winch mounted on the scaffolding. You'll find the snapped end of the clear wire still tangled in the spool. And if you check the daily set logs, you will see the exact signature of the studio manager who ordered the illegal equipment swap."
The penthouse was so quiet you could hear the rain hitting the windows.
Chairman Park looked like he was going to vomit. Seung-jo had just completely destroyed the studio's cover-up in less than two minutes. He had handed the police a perfectly wrapped negligence case that was going to put executives in prison.
Detective Oh slowly closed his notepad. The exhausted, irritated look in his eyes was gone, replaced by a deep, intense respect.
"I don't know why a pop star knows the tension threshold of a Class-3 wire system," Detective Oh muttered, tucking the pen into his pocket. "But if what you just told me is up on that scaffolding, you just cracked this case wide open. Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Ryu. We'll be in touch."
The detectives bowed respectfully and turned toward the door.
Chairman Park stood frozen in place, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. He realized right then that the young man sitting on the sofa wasn't a puppet anymore. He was a monster who had just declared war on his own industry.
"Let's go, partner," Detective Oh said, opening the front door.
"Wait," the younger detective suddenly spoke up. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at Seung-jo.
Seung-jo didn't move. "Yes?"
The young detective flipped through his own notes, frowning deeply.
"Mr. Ryu, there is one detail that doesn't make sense to us," the younger detective said slowly. "We spoke to the art director tonight. He said he handed a very expensive antique prop to the stuntman right before the jump. An old jade ring."
Seung-jo felt a tiny muscle twitch in his jaw.
"We found the stuntman's body," the detective continued, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "But the ring wasn't on him. The weird thing is... the medical staff who brought you into the hospital tonight logged your personal items."
The young detective stepped back into the room, locking eyes with Seung-jo.
"Mr. Ryu... why did you have the dead man's blood-soaked jade ring in your pocket when you collapsed?"