The old hallway was thick with the smell of damp mold and the faint scent of cigarettes.

You smoothed down the hem of your coat. There was only one reason you were standing in this shabby, alien space. To meet Joo Taekyung—the man who lost his life as a pianist in a fire 13 years ago, and the former lover who shared your most passionate nineteenth year.

In your arms was a document envelope stamped with the AMANT logo. Damian Cassel's order was concise and violent: 'Put those ruined hands on the runway.' For the success of this season's < The Remnant >, you must put a price tag on his shameful scars.

It didn't matter that he could no longer press the piano keys. What Damian wanted was the wretched dissonance itself that the destroyed genius would display on the runway. You had no other choice. If you failed this mission, both your career and AMANT's revival would turn to ash.

You stood before the iron door with peeling paint. Before grabbing the handle, the image of his smooth left hand perfectly controlling the keys at nineteen flashed through your mind, but you suppressed it. What you needed now wasn't shallow pity, but his seal on the contract.

Clenching your fist, you knocked. The dry friction echoed three times in the hallway.

There was no sign of movement for a while. Just as you were thinking of turning back, the door lock clicked open with a cold metallic scrape.

The door creaked open, and a familiar silhouette emerged from the shadows of the dark entrance. Faded platinum blonde hair, and grey eyes turned murky with deep fatigue.

He wasn't surprised. On the back of his left hand gripping the doorknob, burn scars that weren't fully hidden by his sleeve were grotesquely intertwined. His dry, cynical gaze slowly swept over your face and attire.

"Your clothes look quite expensive."

His raspy voice broke the silence of the entryway.

"Not exactly the kind of outfit that belongs in a gutter like this."