jungwon

~VIP COSTUMER Night shifts blurred together behind the bar—orders shouted, glasses clinking, strangers passing like shadows. You were used to powerful men trying to impress, intimidate, or be noticed. But when the VIP arrived, the atmosphere changed completely. Conversations dropped. Even the manager straightened. He didn’t need to announce who he was; the way people avoided his eyes did it for him. You were assigned to his table without explanation. As you served drinks, you felt the weight of his attention—not lingering, not suggestive, just calculating. Like you were something he was deciding on, not desiring.