Separating flesh from the skin always requires high concentration. In particular, due to the low-fat levels in aging bodies, the movement of knives had to be more attentive and precise. The blade must glide between the red flesh and the white layer of fat at a rapid rate.

Although the temperature in the workplace was intentionally set low just enough to prevent decay, drops of sweat still formed on the forehead of the man who looked intent in his work. By the time he finished, he cast a glance at the nearby window and in time, saw the break of dawn.

Alas, he lost track of time, being so absorbed in what he was doing.

The light creeping from outside soon enveloped his large silhouette moving around the room. His torso glistening with sweat, trailing from the deep ridges of his sculpted chest to his narrow waist.

He lit his cigarette as he sat down on the stairs and took a sip of the acrid smoke—one of his sources of comfort at this particular time. It filled his guts, ebbing the obnoxious smell of flesh.

He sighed. The number of cigarettes he consumed had significantly increased lately. The ashtrays filled in less than a few hours in his office was the glaring proof.

Once a year, this happens to him… Like a fever that hits him in a schedule. He crumbles in heaps—a disastrous feeling then rages inside him.

Here we go again.

His heart pounded. As if with life of its own, his hands started fishing for his cellphone in his pocket. Opening a folder from his gallery, his mouth was pressed into a thin line, especially when the screen revealed a picture of a woman sleeping peacefully.

The man looking down at the image froze. Like a sculpture, he stared at his phone unblinkingly. What on earth was he thinking? The memory of the time he took this picture rushed into him nostalgically. As soon as he woke up from a deep slumber, he carefully took a picture of the woman dozing next to him.

Nevertheless, the woman in the picture was a person whose heart was beating and whose blood was rushing hot. However, things had long changed…

She's no longer in this world.

***

Dozens of journalists and celebrities from all walks of life flocked to the West In Hotel ballroom, where an engagement reception was in full swing.

"Are all the reporters gone?"

Amidst the turmoil of the party, the baritone voice of a man demanded a quick answer. His long fingers enclosed around a glass of champagne looked rough and callous, resulting from yesterday's work. Standing tall at a height of 180 centimeters, his sleek and sensual figure towered amongst almost everyone in the room.

There was no denying that among the glamorous guests, he stood out. What's more, tonight, he was the highlight of the engagement ceremony. Seo Tae-Jun, the Chief Executive Officer of West In Group of Companies joined this event.

When asked by his boss, Chief Of Staff Yi Jung-Su quickly confirmed the departure of the reporters by looking at a long list. "Yes, a little while ago. The K reporters were the last to leave."

The fact that there were dozens of journalists who attended the engagement ceremony only showed how massive the event was.

The engagement between the West In Group, which owns pharmaceuticals, distribution, and hotels based on military classes, and Daejin Group, which has taken over the distribution market for generations was surely a scope everyone was eager to hear.

With the exit of the nagging reporters, the mood of the party began to lighten up. Formalities from the members of each family reverberated as they began to strike conversations that would last until midnight. Even so, Tae-Jun was not entertained one bit.

He was lost in his own thoughts when suddenly, a slap to his shoulder jolted him to consciousness.

"Why the straight face? You are the man of this evening!"

Tae-Jun's cousin, Lee Jae-won, was the one who spoke in a cheery manner, flipping his thick brown hair to the back of his head—his known mannerism.

As the planning director of the Seoin Hotel, he was also the general manager of today's party. But having noticed Tae-Jun sulked in one corner in company with his wine and barely socialized, he couldn't help but approach him. Since he entered the hall, Tae Jun's face looked already grim, quite contrary to what he had expected.

Lee Jae-won looked around and whispered into his ears, "Someone might think that Yoon forcefully brought you in this position… What's the matter?"

Another main character of the day was Tae-Jun's fiance, Yoon Si-Yeon. Jae-won and her were close friends who spent time together in elementary, middle, high and high schools.

For Lee Jae-won, it was a surprise that Si Yeon would become a part of the family, not to mention, she would be Tae-Jun's future wife! But he had no power to argue with his grandfather's decision.

Despite Lee's persuasions, Tae-Jun answered indifferently, "I went to the villa last night and came back in the morning."

"Why in the villa?"

"I got a word that Sebastian died," He answered.

With the mention of the familiar name, Lee Jae-won's forehead creased. "Ah!" He exclaimed upon remembering Tae-Jun's favorite English pointer.

"The hound in the villa? I didn't think he was still alive. He was too old."

Tae-Jun replied flatly, "Thirteen."

If Lee remembered correctly, Sebastian was a hound given by his grandfather, Chairman Seo Jung-ho, to Tae-Jun on his 22nd birthday. The dog was a loyal helper who spent more than a decade with them.

"Don't tell me you stayed up all night for a dead dog the day before this event? Since when have you been so sentimental…"

"You can't skin it if it's already decayed."

Wait a minute, skin it? For a moment, Lee Jae-won almost dropped the champagne glass he was holding.

"Don't tell me that you 'stuffed' the hound?"

"Yes."

His pupils narrowed and seemed to flee from the expanding whites of his eyes, "Are you out of your mind?"