Third Person's POV
The meeting ends with lots of noise and laughter as everyone says their goodbyes.
As usual, Ilay is the last to leave. A few minutes later, a sleek, expensive black car pulls up in front of him. The tinted window rolls down, revealing a stern-looking man in a suit.
"Boss," the man says, his voice low and respectful.
Ilay glances around to make sure no one is watching, then slips into the car. The door closes with a soft thud, cutting off the sounds of the bustling street outside.
Inside the car, Ilay's aura changes quickly. From the quiet, introverted person who was always smiling, he now has a frighteningly serious expression that could kill someone.
The atmosphere inside the car is tense. The driver nervously grips the wheel, while the bodyguard sitting next to him keeps his head down, not daring to look directly at Ilay to the mirror..
"Why do you look like that?" Saffron asks, puzzled. Their boss is wearing a brown blazer, a white shirt underneath, and black loose pants, which is not his typical attire. "Is that the fashion trend now? You look so harmless like an owl," he adds, staring at their boss in amazement.
Ilay's eyes narrow, sharply glazing at Saffron.
"Shut up!" he snaps, clearly pissed off.
Saffron chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.
"You know, boss, you should wear clothes like that more often. You look weak and clueless in them. Not scary at all," he suggests, his tone half joking.
Ilay's jaw tightens, his anger rising.
"Will you shut up, or," he threatens, quickly grabbing the gun under his seats and pointing to Saffron."I will make you shut up forever?" he stated without a hint of mercy.
"Chill, boss. Can't even joke around with you," Saffron quickly backtracks, sensing the shift in Ilay's mood. "I was saying that this trend doesn't suit you. You should go back to your old style," he adds, trying to appease him.
Ilay lowers his hand and sits back down, composed and cool, the tension in the car thick and heavy.
"About the task I gave you," Ilay changes the subject, his tone now serious.
Saffron grabs the file next to him and hands it to Ilay.
"Here it is, boss," he says, his earlier bravado gone.
Ilay takes the file and opens it, his eyes scanning the contents quickly. The stern look on his face never falters, showing the contrast between the seemingly gentle fan club president and the intimidating figure he truly is.
"Like what you said, there's a new million-dollar drama offered to her and they signed the contract today. The first day of shooting is early next month," Saffron says seriously, his tone filled with the gravity of the information.
"Who's the producer?" Ilay asks, flipping through the document with a furrowed brow.
"We're still trying to find out. The contract signing was extremely confidential earlier. We can't get in," Saffron replies, frustration evident in his voice.
"Find out who the producer is and the background of everyone involved in this contract," Ilay orders with a sharp, commanding tone.
Saffron nods in agreement, understanding the urgency and importance of the task.
After a few minutes of tense silence, they arrive at a large mansion. The high gates, flanked by stern-faced security guards, open slowly to allow their car through. Once inside, the driveway stretches long and winding, leading up to the grand entrance of the house.
The centerpiece of the courtyard is a majestic fountain, surrounded by statues of water signs like Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces. The water sparkles under the moonlight, casting an ethereal glow on the stone figures. The scene is both beautiful and intimidating, much like the man who lives there.
The car stops at the entrance, and a guard opens the door for Ilay.
Ilay steps out of the car, his presence shifting back to the quiet, introverted persona he had adopted earlier. But there's a hard edge to his eyes now, a sharpness that wasn't there before.
"Welcome back, sir," the mansion's butler greets him.
Ilay nods slightly in acknowledgment and walks inside while removing his blazer and handing it to the butler. The mansion's interior gleams with richness. Every corner sparkles, and the hallways are adorned with luxurious furniture and priceless paintings.
Following closely behind Ilay, Saffron's phone rings.
—ring, ring— The sound of the phone echoes in the grand hallway.
"Boss, I need to take this call. I'll join you shortly," Saffron says, seeking permission.
Ilay glances back at him briefly before continuing down the hallway. He stops at a large door, and one of his bodyguards opens it for him.
Entering a dimly lit room, Ilay sits on a plush sofa. He puts his gun down and picks up the remote from the table in front of him and turns on the 110-inch TV. The screen lights up, resuming the paused show Ilay had been watching earlier before he had to attend the event.
After catching up on the latest episode of Dara's show, he switches to an old series of hers, 'The 29 Days,' followed by her music video, 'Rising in the Mud.' He watches them on repeat, his eyes never leaving the screen, as if searching for something hidden within the scenes and lyrics.
Ilay's expression is intense, his gaze unwavering. He studies Dara's performances with meticulous attention, replaying certain parts multiple times. The room is silent except for the sound of the TV. The atmosphere is thick with tension, reflecting Ilay's obsessive focus.
His mind races with thoughts, piecing together clues and forming plans.
While Ilay is engrossed in watching, a whispered conversation behind him catches his attention.
"This is so boring to watch over and over again," the first bodyguard grumbles softly. He's been standing behind Ilay, subjected to the repeated music video for hours.
"Keep your voice down," the second bodyguard hisses, trying to hush his companion without attracting Ilay's notice.
"Why? It's true, isn't it?" the first bodyguard retorts in a whisper. "Aren't you bored with this endless loop of the same music video?"
The second bodyguard glances cautiously at their boss, who remains seated on the sofa, eyes glued to the screen. Seeing that Ilay isn't paying attention to them, he responds quietly.
"Yeah, I am bored too," he admits under his breath.
"See?" says the first bodyguard. "Should we stop him?" he adds, still whispering.
"Do you have a death wish? We can't stop him," the second bodyguard replies, his voice a bit louder, drawing Ilay's attention more.
"But it's his sixth time watching the series and music video back and forth—" The first bodyguard didn't get to finish his sentence before a bullet silenced him forever. A hole bloody marking the end of his life as he slumped to the floor.
"Want to follow him?" Ilay asked coldly. He glanced at the remaining bodyguard for a split second before returning his gaze to the screen, not waiting for a response.
"No, sir," the nervous bodyguard answered, his voice shaking with fear.
Ilay continued watching as if nothing had happened until Saffron entered the theater room.
"Whoa! The full moon is not here yet for this," Saffron exclaimed, carefully stepping over the fresh mess on the floor. "Call someone to clean this up," he ordered the bodyguard.
The bodyguard quickly left the room to summon the cleaners. Meanwhile, Saffron walked over to Ilay and sat down next to him.
"You're something else, you know that?" Saffron said, his tone filled with a mix of disbelief and sarcasm. "Back then, you all laughed at me for being crazy about Sophia, but now look at you," he continued, referring to Ilay's obsessive fandom over Dara.
Ilay didn't bother to look or respond to him.
"Tell me, boss, why are you so interested in her?" Saffron asked, his curiosity evident as he looked at Ilay seriously.
"None of your business," Ilay replied coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Saffron shook his head, half-smiling about the answer he just received.
"Your obsession for her is on another level," he said lastly while shaking his head in disbelief.
"Any news?" Ilay asked, referring to the call Saffron received earlier.
"Yes, I have some good news," Saffron replied. "The deal with the foreign partner is now sealed. We could receive the initial payment of 10 million from them anytime," he added.
Ilay smiled at the news.
"Good. You know what to do with it, right?" Ilay said casually, referring to the money.
"Ofcource," Saffron replied confidently. "I wonder what new business front is good these days," he added, a hint of mischief in his tone.
They planned to allocate the money they earn illegally to a new business to avoid suspicion from the government.
"Another thing, call Zach. I want to talk to him tomorrow about Dara's birthday event, which is in 2 months," Ilay instructed. "Tell him that I need a list of plan ideas tomorrow," he added.
Saffron was speechless, finding it hard to believe his boss's dedication as a die-hard fan of Dara.
'He's even more obsessed than I am,' Saffron muttered to himself.
Saffron didn't answer, which made Ilay to look at him.
"Hey!" he called to catch his attention. " Did you get it?" he asked.
"Yes, I get it. I'll call him now," Saffron answered. He stood up, ready to leave the room.
"One last thing," Ilay said again, looking straight to Saffron. "Clean his body before it gets stinky here," he instructed.
Saffron finally said his leave and saw the cleaner on her way to the theater room.
Inside this mansion, seeing something like this is normal. Everyone of their employees learn how to use knives and guns, even a mere cleaner.
~To Be Continued~