A Fleeting Dream by the Han River

The convoy drove into Hannam-dong, Seoul's most prestigious residential area. In the darkness, on the winding mountain road shaded by trees, a heavy, ornate iron gate with a sophisticated electronic security system slid open silently.

The convoy drove in, passing through meticulously manicured lawns and a forecourt adorned with art sculptures, finally stopping in front of a modernist villa with simple lines yet a magnificent presence.

The villa is constructed entirely of glass, steel, and light gray stone, with enormous floor-to-ceiling windows that reflect the courtyard lights and the stars and moon like obsidian. This is one of Lee Byung-hun's properties, rarely seen to the public, and now it has become Walton's "palace."

Walton got out of the car and stood in the villa's nearly ten-meter-high entrance hall, his gaze quickly sweeping over the interior. The interior decoration was extremely luxurious, yet not vulgar.

The Italy imported frosted marble floor is so shiny it reflects light, a huge crystal chandelier with an avant-garde design hangs in the atrium, the walls are adorned with large abstract oil paintings, and the furniture is clearly custom-made by top designers.

The air was filled with a subtle, luxurious scent of sandalwood and leather. Everything met, and even exceeded, his expectations for "top-tier hospitality."

Director Kim stood by, introducing the guests with great enthusiasm. "The Chairman specifically instructed that everything here be prepared to the highest standards. The butler, chef, and servants are all top-notch. Please feel free to ask for anything you need. As for your companions..." He glanced at the six bodyguards following Walton like shadows, "... we have also arranged comfortable suites in the annex for them, fully equipped and ensuring they are not neglected."

Walton nodded, maintaining a perfect balance of composure and a hint of weariness from the long journey. "Chairman Lee, thank you for your trouble. It's very nice here."

"Please rest and adjust to the time difference. Tomorrow, the chairman will host a banquet at ' Unhyeongung ' (a private high-end club owned by Lee Byung-hun) to welcome you back." Director Kim handed over a brand-new, unbranded satellite-encrypted mobile phone. "This is a temporary communication tool prepared for you; it's absolutely secure. It contains my and the chairman's direct numbers. Please contact us anytime if needed."

Bodyguard Captain Jack immediately stepped forward, took the phone, checked it, and nodded slightly to Walton. This was a necessary procedure.

After seeing Director Kim off, the villa's doors slowly closed. Walton stood in the center of the spacious, luxurious hall, and the composed facade he had maintained all along, befitting "Chairman Walton," finally cracked slightly. He slowly walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the dazzling cityscape across the Han River, which shone like a galaxy, and remained silent for a long time.

"Jack," he said without turning around, his voice slightly hoarse, "Inspect the entire villa, including the annex. Use our own equipment. Also, isolate that cell phone; don't use it unless it's an emergency."

"Understood, sir." Jack immediately led his men into action. They were professionals, and soon, miniature detectors, signal jammers, and anti-eavesdropping equipment were deployed in key locations. The annex was indeed in good condition, but its location and structure clearly allowed the "owner" to monitor the situation at any time.

The initial inspection results were summarized half an hour later. No obvious listening or surveillance devices were found inside the villa (at least not with their equipment), but the external security system was completely controlled by the other party, and the passage between the annex and the main building was cleverly designed. The satellite phone was initially found to be secure, but no one could guarantee that there wasn't a backdoor.

Walton listened to the report with a blank expression. This was within his expectations. Lee Byung-hun was not a philanthropist; providing such a level of protection must have been for a reason, and certainly for some control.

He is now living under someone else's roof, and is a "distinguished guest" with a huge sum of money but who has lost his own territory. The other party's display of strength (the huge welcoming convoy, this mansion) is both a courtesy and a deterrent.

"Stay alert, but... don't overreact," Walton finally said. "We are guests now. Remember who we are, and remember our situation."

Over the next few days, Lee Byung-hun's "enthusiasm" surged like the tide of the Han River, penetrating every crevice and attempting to wash away the last bit of roughness and wariness in Walton.

Maintaining dignity: Walton knew he must not show even the slightest sign of being a "loser." Every morning he would get up on time, work out in the glass gym on the top floor of his villa, and then read the censored international financial briefings that Jack had obtained through special secure channels (mainly about the aftermath of NLG and Wall Street developments; the news was disheartening, but he forced himself to read them).

When faced with the assistants (ostensibly tour guides and translators) sent by Lee Byung-hun's side to "accompany" him, he maintained a slightly aloof arrogance befitting a veteran elite of the United States East Coast.

He never mentioned any specific details about NLG. When the other party asked "unintentionally," he simply used vague terms such as "strategic adjustment," "temporary rest," and "paying attention to other investment opportunities" to gloss over the matter, as if he had just left the company for a long vacation.

He discussed global economic trends, commented on the business models of South Korea chaebols (with the air of a "senior" examining a "newcomer"), and occasionally mentioned his early "relationships" with certain United States political figures. He was striving to rebuild an invisible barrier of identity, reminding both the other party and himself:

I, Richard Walton, am still the same business tycoon who has weathered many storms and possesses abundant resources and connections. Temporary setbacks are merely a small ripple in the long sea of business.

Sugar-coated bullets: Lee Byung-hun clearly knew how to "entertain" a "distinguished guest" like Walton. The material enjoyment was pushed to the extreme, and it precisely scratched Walton's itch.

The next day, three more cars appeared in the garage: a brand-new Rolls-Royce Phantom (extended version), a bright red Ferrari SF90, and a low-key but highly protected Mercedes-Benz S600 armored car.

Each vehicle is equipped with a dedicated driver—all young, beautiful South Korea women fluent in English and dressed in Chanel suits. They are not only drivers but also "tour guides," possessing extensive knowledge of Seoul's and even South Korea's top consumer destinations.

The welcoming banquet was held at Unhyeongung, an ultra-high-end private club nestled at the foot of Bukhansan in Seoul, combining traditional Hanok houses with modern architecture. The banquet was extremely luxurious.

Besides Lee Byung-hun and his close associates, several top female celebrities and models who were currently very popular in the South Korea entertainment industry accompanied him. They smiled sweetly and spoke in effusive voices, flattering Walton, the "United States tycoon," to the extreme, and drinking to his heart's content. In the days that followed, nightclubs, private clubs, high-end salons... wherever they went, they were accompanied by the most luxurious "accompaniment."

Walton was not a lecher, but the feeling of being fawned over, especially by these beautiful women who were famous in Asia and even the world, greatly satisfied his damaged self-esteem and vanity.

Daily meals were extravagantly luxurious. Michelin Samsung chef and his team moved into the villa, ready to serve at any time. Ingredients were air-freighted from around the world.

Japan A5 Wagyu beef, France blue lobster, Italy white truffles, Iran Almas caviar... The cellar stores rare vintages from top estates such as Romanée-Conti and Pétrus, as well as expensive Japan whisky and top-quality South Korea soju.

Lee Byung-hun himself is a gourmet and avid drinker. He personally accompanied Walton several times, discussing food and wine, and exchanging toasts with him in a lively atmosphere.

A week later, Walton was taken to a place that appeared to be an unassuming office building in Seoul Gangnam District, but was surprisingly spacious and luxurious inside. The only sounds were the clinking of chips and the soft spinning of the roulette wheel.

This is a private casino controlled by Lee Byung-hun, open only to a very small number of top VIPs. Lee Byung-hun personally accompanied Walton, "lending" him one million US dollars in chips at the start of the game, saying with a smile, "Just playing around, relax a bit."

Whether by luck or design, Walton had an exceptionally good run of luck that night, playing Texas Hold'em and Baccarat, and within just a few hours, he had amassed over five million dollars in chips. The adrenaline rush, the thrill of controlling his luck, and the exhilaration of dominating the game allowed him to temporarily forget all his troubles, and a long-lost, truly carefree smile appeared on his face.

Lee Byung-hun clapped his hands and laughed, "See! I told you, Richard, you were temporarily stuck in that mess in United States! Once you got to South Korea, your luck turned around! Your fortunes changed!"

However, beneath the ultimate enjoyment and flattery, the cold reality, like an underwater reef, surfaced from time to time.

His bodyguard Jack repeatedly and subtly reminded them that when they went out, vehicles from the "Seven Star Group" would "happen" to be on the same route or appear nearby; when they wanted to go to places not arranged by Lee Byung-hun, the accompanying "guides" would always cleverly dissuade them by saying "it's not safe there," "it doesn't suit your status," or "the chairman has already arranged something better"; the servants at the villa provided meticulous service, but their eyes were too well-trained, and they almost never had any communication with the bodyguards outside of work.

Walton had tried using that satellite phone to contact his lawyer in Switzerland once (to discuss the details of a trust). The call seemed normal, but afterwards he always felt uneasy about being monitored. Jack checked it and said that the phone itself might be fine, but the signal path couldn't be guaranteed.

What unsettled him most was that when he "casually" asked several times if he could see the follow-up accounts and profits of the "special logistics project" he had worked on with Lee Byung-hun years ago through NLG channels (this was one of the bases for his assessment of Lee Byung-hun's current strength and sincerity), Director Kim always gave a perfunctory reply with a forced smile.

"The chairman is having some things sorted out; some are quite old and will take some time." "The chairman said those are trivial matters; the current cooperation opportunities are much greater!" "You should rest well and enjoy your time in South Korea; the chairman will handle these business matters."

Once at a nightclub, Walton, slightly tipsy, was leaning against a well-known actress who was speaking sweetly in Korean. The accompanying translator whispered her words:

"Chairman Lee seems to be under a bit of financial pressure lately. I overheard the guys chatting and they mentioned that his business in the United States isn't going well, and he seems to have suffered some losses... But the chairman is so capable, he'll definitely be able to handle it!"

Walton's heart skipped a beat, and he sobered up halfway. He looked at the translator, who remained calm, as if he were just casually relaying a casual conversation.

Was this an unintentional revelation, or a test by Lee Byung-hun through someone else? He didn't know, so he could only laugh it off and change the subject, but deep down, he felt a little more uneasy.

However, the adaptation and numbing of the human body are terrifying. Two weeks of lavish immersion, the flattery that made him the center of attention, the "good luck" at the casino, and the "grand blueprint" that Lee Byung-hun kept painting—jointly building a new automated terminal in Port of Busan, investing in the entertainment company under the "Seven Star Group" to enter the Korean Wave industry, and jointly establishing a cross-border private equity fund to invest in Southeast Asia infrastructure... These tempting "futures" were like warm tides, slowly washing over Walton's ankles, knees, and waist.

His inner vigilance, like a sandcastle on the beach, was slowly and irreversibly melting and collapsing under the constant onslaught of sugar-coated bullets. He began to comfort himself:

It's normal for Lee Byung-hun to have ulterior motives, and controlling his whereabouts is also for "security" reasons. Those accounts he wasn't allowed to see might really just be old, insignificant debts. The fact that the other party is going to such lengths to entertain him means that what they want must be huge, which actually shows that he still has value. As long as he has value, his safety is guaranteed.

The turning point came at a meticulously planned dinner at the panoramic restaurant on the top floor of the Seven Star Group headquarters building, offering a 360-degree view of Seoul's nightscape.

Besides Lee Byung-hun's inner circle and several political figures, two representatives from a Middle East sovereign wealth fund also accompanied him. Lee Byung-hun explained that this was to facilitate future "tripartite cooperation."

The dinner was of extremely high caliber, and the atmosphere was lively. Lee Byung-hun appeared exceptionally excited and sincere. Holding his wine glass, he walked over to Walton, put his arm around his shoulder, and spoke in a slightly tipsy but remarkably clear voice (this time he didn't use a translator, speaking directly in English, although with a heavy accent):

"Richard, my old friend! Brother!" He patted Walton hard on the back. "What happened in United States is in the past! It's over! In South Korea, here, I am you! You are me! We're inseparable!"

He leaned closer, lowered his voice, and his eyes were intense. "Your money is a hundred times safer with me than in those cold, impersonal vaults in Switzerland! They only care about contracts, but I, Lee Byung-hun, consider you my brother! You're mine!"

He raised his glass, his voice rising so everyone could hear. "Come on! Let's join forces and make ten times, a hundred times, more money in South Korea and in Asia in the future! Cheers!"

"Cheers!" The entire room echoed, and applause erupted. The Middle East representatives also cast interested glances.

Walton looked at Lee Byung-hun- hun's face, flushed with alcohol and excitement, listened to the burning words of "brothers" and "we're inseparable," and felt the gazes from the entire audience, a mixture of envy, awe, and inquiry... The tension that had been building for days, the lingering doubts, and the fear of the uncertain future were all completely overwhelmed at this moment by alcohol, flattery, and the promise of this illusory yet powerful "alliance."

His last line of defense collapsed with a crash.

He raised his glass, clinked it heavily with Lee Byung-hun's, and a long-unseen, almost "sincere" smile appeared on his face. He exclaimed, "Cheers to our collaboration!"

He drank heartily, one cup after another. He drank the wine of flattery, the wine of ambition, and also the poison called "paralysis."

The party reached its climax late into the night, then ended in a mess and drunken stupor. Walton was completely intoxicated and almost unconscious.

In his last remaining consciousness, he saw Lee Byung-hun's face, with its incredibly warm, even somewhat "honest" smile, as he and two of his men carefully helped him up, muttering something along the way:

"Be careful, hold my brother steady... Take the guild leader home and get some rest..."

He was half-lifted and half-carried into the car. The neon lights outside the car window turned into blurry, flowing ribbons of light. He completely lost consciousness and sank into darkness.

Inside the car heading towards the villa in Hannam-dong, Lee Byung-hun, sitting in the passenger seat, gradually cooled and vanished his enthusiastic smile in the passing light and shadows outside the window, finally settling into a bottomless, icy calm. He took out his phone, dialed a number, and said briefly in Korean:

"The fish is drunk. You can haul in the net now."