*INT. UNKNOWN CHAMBER – NIGHT*
The room was drenched in shadow. Only a single chandelier overhead cast a pool of light over the massive mahogany table, carved with twisting vines and ancient symbols. The walls—black marble veined with gold—absorbed every footstep.
At one end, *Mr. Williams* sat, immaculate in a dark tailored suit, a single cufflink glinting under the light. His knife paused over a thick slice of rare beef, as though he never intended to finish it.
Opposite him sat *Mr. Jeun*, face rigid, hands pressed flat to the table. Behind each man, two silent guards stood like statues—motionless, vigilant.
The air felt heavy—as though every breath might shatter something fragile.
---
Mr jeun said smiling thinly.
"Well, you watched the news… and now you've invited me to a 'glorious meal.'"
"Did I?"
Mr William's said calm slicing the meat.
He slowly raised the bite to his lips, eyes locked on Jeun's.
"Are you planning to murder me too, then?"
Mr jeun mocked leaning forward.
Williams swallowed, composed, then leaned back.
"A rat shouldn't jump into a lion's mouth just because he thinks the lion's dead."
His voice was cold, measured.
Jeun's eyes flashed.
"Or perhaps the lion is feigning death to lure the rat out. A lion should hunt, not bait."
Mr jeun replied .
Williams set his fork down, his gaze sharpening.
"'Bait'… yes. That's precisely our topic tonight."
Mr William's said .
Jeun narrowed his eyes.
"Is that what this is, then?"
---
A *ping* cut across the tension: *Ding! Ding! Ding!*
Jeun checked his phone, expression twisting.
On screen: a scandalous tabloid article
*—A picture of Mr. Jeun surrounded by women in a nightclub*
*—Headline:* *"Candidate Jeun's Image Tarnished: Allegations, Affairs, and a Broken Home"*
*—Subtext:* *"If he treats his wife poorly… what hope for a nation?"*
A ripple of notification alerts flooded beyond that screen. His poll numbers, once solid, trembled now in red.
Jeun's scalp flushed. His hands clenched.
*MR. JEUN*
*(voice trembling)*
"What… have you done?"
Williams took a delicate bite, chewing carefully as if savoring not just the meat but the moment.
"Pretending to be dead… lured you in, didn't it? But the question isn't *why* the rat entered the lion's mouth…
—*What made the rat forget his place, even if just for a moment?*"
Mr William said
Jeun glared, jaw clenching.
"You will pay for this. I will *end* you."
Williams' lips curved into a quiet smirk.
"I'd advise you to hope you like what's waiting at home tonight."
Mr William's said .
Jeun slammed his chair back, pushing to stand. Guards shifted behind him.
Without a word, he stormed out, the door slamming so hard the glass in the windows rattled.
Williams watched his retreating form, expression unflinching. The soft click of the door echoed once, then was gone.
He rose, straightening his coat.
The guards remained still, their silhouettes rigid.
Williams walked toward the window and looked out. His reflection merged with the darkness beyond.
In his mind, the election was no longer a contest—it was war.
And he would not lose.
— later that day .
MICHELLE'S BEDROOM –*
The clock ticked past midnight. Moonlight spilled in through the open blinds, casting silver bars across the walls. But Michelle didn't notice. She paced the length of her room, arms folded tight, biting her nails till the skin around them bled raw.
Her phone sat on the bed, screen lighting up every few seconds — but it was never the message she was waiting for.
"Come on… come on…"
She whispered.
She ran a hand through her hair, eyes wide, sunken from sleepless nights. Her chest rose and fell too quickly, like every breath came with a price. She stopped, stared at the phone — frozen.
And then—
*FLASHBACK – MR. WILLIAMS' OFFICE – A WEEK AGO*
The office was vast and cold, with dark wood panels and shelves lined with leather-bound books. A single lamp lit the desk where *Mr. Williams* sat, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Michelle sat across from him, small… and nervous.
"You want to be useful, don't you?"
He said calm, persuasive.
Michelle hesitated, hands clenched in her lap.
"I don't understand… you want me to frame Mira?"
She said
He leaned forward, voice smooth like venom in silk.
"No. I want you to guide the truth. She's already spiraling. All you have to do is… *make sure she falls faster*."
He said.
Michelle's lips parted, horrified.
"And don't worry. You'll be compensated. Handsomely."
He smiled faintly .
He slid a brown envelope across the desk. She didn't touch it.
"This isn't right…"
She said .
"Neither is this."
He picked up a file, flipped it open, and held up a photo of *Nao*, laughing in a hallway at Imperials.
Michelle's blood ran cold.
"Your little friend's future here is… fragile. One signature from me and she's expelled. No appeals..sides, your the only one suitable for this"
Michelle's eyes filled with panic.
"Do this. Or Nao pays the price."
He said.
Present.
Michelle collapsed onto her bed, gripping the sides of her head.
"What have I done…"
Her phone lit up again — a message from an unknown number:
*"Status?"*
Her fingers hovered over the screen, trembling. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't breathe. She was caught in a web she wove for survival… now choking on it.
"If I screw this up… he'll destroy us both…"
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back.
Because failure..wasn't an option.