Chapter 45: When the Clowns Take Off the Mask
Inside the exclusive VIP lounge of the luxury department store, the shopping mood had initially been lighthearted. Well, at least for two of the three people involved. Pascale and Lukas were currently engaged in their usual loud bickering over which of them was allowed to accompany Secretary Kim into the changing room.
"What do you think you're doing, you cheeky brat?!" Lukas hissed, glaring at his brother. "Kimmy-bear is my guy, got it? I saw him first, so hands off, you snake!"
Pascale rolled his eyes elegantly, smoothing down a designer blazer. "Don't be so selfish, little brother. You know me: I don't bite, I only lick. And who knows... maybe Secretary Kim would prefer my company much more?"
"Don't you dare speak about my Secretary Kim like that, you miserable cow!" Lukas snapped back.
Secretary Kim observed the spectacle without cracking a single expression. With stoic calm and his glasses perfectly in place, he cleared his throat. "Just to be clear, I am going into the changing room entirely by myself."
Lukas let out a theatrical gasp. "Look what you've done, you goat! Because of you, my Kimmy-bear is in a bad mood, and you've completely ruined my fun. You evil party-pooper!"
At that exact moment, the phone in Lukas's pocket buzzed sharply. He pulled it out and stared at the screen. The second he answered, Clara's voice erupted from the speaker—or rather, what was left of her voice. It was a hysterical, barely intelligible sob, a wild, panicked mix of French, German, and Korean. It was the devastating sound of a complete mental breakdown.
Pascale immediately pressed his head close to the receiver to catch every word. Within seconds, Lukas's face transformed completely. The playful, petty smirk vanished. The warmth in his eyes died, replaced by a coldness that was as sharp and unforgiving as German glacial ice in January.
When he hung up, a sudden, ominous silence enveloped the room. The brothers looked at each other. No words were needed. They knew exactly what had to be done: Clara needed them. Now.
Secretary Kim noticed the sudden shift in atmosphere immediately. The playful banter had evaporated. "Mr. Lukas? Mr. Pascale? Is something wrong? Do you not like the blazer after all?"
Lukas looked at him, but there was no trace left of the flirty "Kimmy-bear" banter. He no longer saw Secretary Kim as the man he had just been teasing—he saw the employee of the man who had just emotionally shattered Clara. His voice was suddenly deep, authoritative, and utterly humorless.
"Give me Min-ho's number. Now."
Secretary Kim instinctively took a step back, raising his hands slightly. "But... I am not permitted to hand out my boss's private number. That goes against company protocol and privacy regulations..."
Lukas and Pascale stepped forward in unison. Both brothers significantly towered over the secretary. Their sudden, dark presence filled the small VIP room so intensely that Secretary Kim felt the air leaving his lungs.
"Kim," Lukas said quietly, the underlying threat in his voice almost physically tangible. "This isn't a game anymore. Give me the number, or I will forget my good upbringing and everything I have ever learned about politeness. This is about Clara. And if anything happens to her because of your boss, I will personally make sure you experience the full, destructive force of the catastrophe duo."
With trembling fingers, Secretary Kim unlocked his phone and pulled up the number. He didn't recognize the man standing in front of him. The charming, fashionable dandy was gone; in his place stood a man ready to burn the world to ashes for the people he loved.
Meanwhile, at the penthouse...
Min-ho still sat motionless at his desk. The darkness of the room mirrored his inner emptiness. The sweet scent of Clara's perfume still hung in the air like a silent, hollow accusation. Suddenly, his phone vibrated loudly against the marble surface. He reached for it mechanically, not even checking the caller ID.
"Hello?" he answered, his voice raspy and strained.
"Listen to me very carefully, Min-ho," Lukas's voice cut him off. It was as sharp and precise as a razor blade. "I don't know what buttons you pushed to feed your pathetic ego, but you are going to stay away from her from now on. Completely."
Min-ho was shocked by the tone. "Lukas? Is that you? What happened? I only wanted to coax the truth out of her! I wanted to get Ariadne to come forward, I—"
"You wanted to satisfy your damn curiosity!" Lukas barked, his voice trembling with suppressed rage. "You wanted the trophy 'Ariadne' sitting on your shelf! But you don't have the slightest clue what price this woman pays just to wake up and exist every single morning! You have no idea about the darkness she escaped from!"
Before Min-ho could utter a response, the phone was roughly snatched away on the other end. Now, Pascale's voice came through the line, cold and lethal. "Go find yourself another author for your godforsaken ego project, Min-ho. Clara is dead to you. If you contact her even one more time, I will personally make sure your entire production office burns to the ground."
Click. The line went dead.
Min-ho stared blankly at the dark screen. A feeling of absolute, icy emptiness pooled in his stomach. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like the powerful puppet master holding all the strings. He felt like a small, foolish boy who had carelessly thrown a priceless, flawless jewel against a wall—just to see if it was made of real glass.
He understood now. He wasn't fighting corporate rivals or a simple pen name here. He was fighting a dark, traumatic past that had deeply scarred Clara. Lukas and Pascale had raised a protective wall around her that was higher than any skyscraper in Seoul. And Min-ho knew with absolute certainty: no amount of money, no lawyer, and no contract in the world would help him breach that wall.
He had to prove that the person Clara mattered more to him than the world-famous star Ariadne. But as he looked into the darkness of his room, he didn't even know if she would ever look at him again without pure terror in her eyes.