Peninsula: A Max-Level Forward's Leisurely Life

The sound of police sirens mingled with the wind of a rainy Seoul night outside the door, gradually fading into the distance.

The chaebol's security team was as efficient as ever, even cleaning up the messy muddy footprints on the ground in just three minutes.

Lee Chi-hoon stood behind the bar, and in the void before him, the semi-transparent green light screen that only he could see was flickering restlessly.

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These cold words are like bait hanging in mid-air.

His eyes narrowed slightly, a long-lost curiosity stirring deep within his soul, a soul that had lived two lives. As a former top salesman on Wall Street, decisive and ruthless, he knew all too well the allure of this "equivalent exchange."

Not relying on capital or lineage, but solely on the solid statistics of that young body on the green field—that's far more interesting than those hypocritical tycoon banquets.

He originally intended to close the shop immediately, pour himself a glass of fine vintage Macallan, and then sit on the leather sofa to thoroughly study this unexpected "FIFA Green System".

But as his gaze returned from the void, he caught a glimpse of a shadowy patch at the edge of the bar.

Choi Sulli.

This usually radiant star of a popular girl group is now like a stray cat that has been drenched in a downpour and roughly stuffed into a dryer.

She held the glass that had contained the "rusty nail" in both hands. The aftereffects of the alcohol seemed to be fermenting in her blood. Her cheeks were flushed an unnatural red, her long hair was wet and stuck to her face, and her eyes were staring blankly at the ice cubes left at the bottom of the glass.

Clearly, the scene of "privilege crushing the media" just now not only intimidated the hyenas outside the door, but also frightened this little idol who had never seen much of the dark side.

Lee Chi-hoon picked up a clean rag and slowly wiped the water stains off his hands.

Seeing her absent-minded look, his previously cold and hard face relaxed slightly, and he casually tossed out a sentence in a lazy tone: "If you don't want to deal with the mess outside in the next few days—I mean, if your agency hasn't gotten so desperate as to call the police yet—you can stay at this bar for now. There's a spare room on the second floor."

This is purely a polite social remark.

In Lee Chi-hoon's mind, a female celebrity like her, who was extremely wary, should have immediately taken out her phone to contact her trusted assistant after a brief period of avoiding danger, and then fled this unlicensed bar full of unknowns and dangers as if it were a plague.

However, something unexpected happened.

Choi Sulli suddenly raised her head, her wet eyes fixed on Lee Ji-hoon. Without the slightest hesitation or polite refusal, she climbed up the vine as if it were the last vine on the edge of a cliff, doing so with remarkable skill—she began nodding repeatedly, like a wind-up music box doll.

"..." Li Chixun paused in his hand-wiping motion.

The ten thousand lines he had prepared for a dignified farewell were all choked off by the girl's innocent nod. A rare look of surprise flashed in his eyes, quickly replaced by deep helplessness.

Has this girl's guard been melted away by that glass of whiskey? Or did her actions of blocking the door with one arm and clearing the room with a phone call actually create some kind of damn "sense of security" in this idol's mind?

"Alright then." Lee Chi-hoon scratched the back of his head, sighed helplessly, and muttered under his breath, "I'm really 'lucky' to run into you, you unlucky little thing, in the middle of the night."

He casually tossed the rag onto the bar counter, stepped over it, and waved at her dismissively, "Come on."

Choi Sulli immediately put down her cup, her obedient demeanor heartbreaking. As she stood up, her body swayed slightly from the effects of alcohol, but she still followed closely behind Lee Ji-hoon's tall figure, step by step ascending the wooden stairs leading to the second floor.

The old oak staircase creaked softly under their footsteps. The dim wall lamp cast long shadows of them.

Lee Chi-hoon walked ahead without looking back, only slowing his pace. He could hear soft, rapid breathing behind him, like a child afraid of being abandoned.

Pushing open the door at the end of the second-floor corridor, Li Chixun reached out and turned on the light switch on the wall.

With a "snap," the incandescent light filled the entire room.

To be honest, it was just an extremely ordinary room. A single bed with clean sheets; a simple wardrobe; a wooden table; and nothing else.

Compared to the lavish bar downstairs and the walls covered with expensive whiskies, this place is as shabby as the cheapest motel in Seoul.

After all, as the eldest son of a conglomerate, Lee Chi-hoon never spends the night here; it's just a place to store miscellaneous items and occasionally for the cleaners to rest.

Lee Ji-hoon turned around, put his hands in the pockets of his casual trousers, and looked down at Choi Sulli, who had just walked in and seemed a little flustered.

"This room is like this, the conditions are basic." He yawned. "If you don't like it, I can arrange a car to take you back to your dormitory in Gangnam District right now, or—"

Before he could finish speaking...

Suddenly, Choi Sulli deflated like a punctured balloon, stumbling forward two steps before collapsing onto the not-so-soft single bed.

A muffled "bang" was heard.

She buried her face completely in the white pillow, remaining motionless, like an ostrich trying to bury its head in the sand.

Lee Chi-hoon raised an eyebrow, but didn't finish his sentence. He then frowned and was about to go over and pull up the unseemly female celebrity when a faint, strange noise suddenly broke the silence of the room.

"Waaaaah..."

It was a low sob that was being suppressed but could not be completely controlled.

At first it was just a sob, but then the sob gradually grew louder like a flood.

Choi Sulli's thin shoulders began to tremble, her fingers gripping the bed sheet so tightly that her nails were almost digging into the fabric.

Her cries were filled with long-suppressed despair, grievances, and lingering fear.

The online abuse, the pressure from company executives, the cold shoulders from within the group, and the fear of almost being devoured alive by paparazzi tonight all erupted completely in this simple room without even a single painting.

Li Chixun stood by the bed, his brows furrowed even deeper.

As a cunning old fox who has lived two lives, he is most afraid of dealing with a woman's tears, especially the tears of a top female star he has only known for less than two hours and whose identity is extremely sensitive.

But he did not turn and leave.

Li Chixun casually pulled over the only wooden chair, turned it around, straddled it, and casually draped his arms over the back. His professional instincts, honed in his previous life as a top Wall Street salesman, were instantly awakened at that moment.

What is the highest level of salesmanship? It's not about empathizing with a customer by crying together, but about using reason and sophisticated communication skills to forcefully pull them out of the mire of collapse and restore control of their emotions.

"Do you know what you look like right now?" Lee Chi-hoon asked, his voice devoid of any panic, but rather carrying a casual, teasing tone.

The figure on the bed trembled, the crying paused for a moment, and then she wailed even more aggrievedly.

"Like a ribbonfish whose scales have just been scraped off on a cutting board." Lee Ji-hoon uttered a harsh metaphor without any mercy, "and the kind of ribbonfish that can't be sold at the Noryangjin Seafood Market and is being sold at a loss."

The crying paused noticeably. A muffled, nasal protest came from under the covers: "You...wait...you're the ribbonfish!"

"Still have the energy to argue? Looks like that rusty glass didn't burn your vocal cords." Lee Ji-hoon's lips curled into a smile as he habitually rubbed his hand, as if he were still holding that Macallan glass. "But seriously, if Lee Soo-man of SM Entertainment saw his personally groomed visual center crying like a fool on cheap sheets in a shady bar, how many points do you think the company's stock price would drop when the market opened tomorrow?"

"I don't care about stock prices..." Choi Sulli's muffled voice came from under the pillow, filled with extreme resentment and exhaustion. "I've had enough... I just want to live, why does everyone have to force me? Those paparazzi, those haters, they even want to take away my right to breathe..."

"Deprive?" Lee Chi-hoon let out a short, cold laugh. "Who do they think they are, to deprive you of your power?"

He leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming firm and penetrating: "Sulli, you've got one thing wrong. Those paparazzi chasing you in the rainy night with their cameras and microphones are nothing more than hyenas at the bottom of the capitalist food chain. They're chasing you not because you did anything wrong, but simply because your suffering can fetch a good price."

The shaking on the bed lessened slightly, clearly indicating that she was listening attentively to him.

"You're just hiding here crying, and all you'll do is get my sheets dirty and add 20,000 won to tomorrow's dry cleaning bill. It's pointless." Lee Ji-hoon spoke slowly and deliberately. "Think about what happened downstairs just now. I only made one phone call, and in three minutes, those three hyenas were in a police car and taken away. Do you think it's because I can fight? No, it's because of class, it's because of capital."

"You think the outside world is a monster that eats people because you've always seen yourself as a piece of cake." Li Jixun gently tapped the back of his chair, making a sound. "In this country, if you don't want to be eaten, you have to become the one with the knife. Or—find someone with the knife to protect you."

He paused deliberately at this point.

Only Choi Sulli's soft sobs remained in the room. Lee Ji-hoon's words, with their cruel objectivity, ruthlessly tore away the facade of a peaceful life in the Korean entertainment industry, yet miraculously stopped her irrational breakdown. It was a sophisticated emotional displacement—using the cold hardness of reality to dispel the nihilistic despair.

"Don't dwell on your pain with that pathetic attitude." Lee Ji-hoon's tone suddenly shifted, taking on a playful and lighthearted tone. "You might not know, but I wasted a perfect moment to awaken my 'superpower' just now to save you. If you keep crying, I might seriously consider calling the Seoul Sports Daily and selling your exclusive location for a good price to make up for my loss."

"How dare you!" A delicate shout with a heavy nasal tone came from under the covers.

Suddenly, there was a "pfft" sound.

It was a short, soft laugh, followed by a sound as if she had realized something, and then she was forcibly smothered under the pillow.

Lee Chi-hoon raised an eyebrow. "Did I just hear something like a pig snoring? Was it just my imagination?"

"You're the pig!" This time, Choi Sulli finally managed to lift her head from the pillow that served as her refuge.

When Lee Chi-hoon saw her current appearance, even someone with his strong self-control almost couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Those once lively and charming peach blossom eyes in front of the camera were now swollen like two ripe peaches. Even worse, the exquisite stage makeup she wore to the event that evening had been ruined by the tears and the frantic rubbing against the pillow, leaving her eyeliner and mascara smudged into two huge black panda eyes; her foundation was also rubbed off in patches of white and red, making her face look like a clown who had just escaped from an abstract painting.

What's most amazing is that, despite her horribly disfigured face, the corners of her mouth uncontrollably turned up, revealing an unstoppable, ugly yet radiant smile.

The smile was still tinged with glistening tears, the tip of her nose was bright red, and paired with those dark circles under her eyes, it was as ridiculous as could be.

"What are you laughing at! Don't look!" Choi Sulli clearly realized her miserable state from Lee Ji-hoon's slightly dilated pupils. She frantically stretched out her hands to cover her face.

Looking at the big star in front of him, who was crying like a peach but laughing like a fool, Lee Ji-hoon finally relaxed completely and let out a genuine smile.

He slightly raised his chin, secretly convinced himself: it seems that his top-notch eloquence, which he used to deal with those troublesome oligarchs on Wall Street in his previous life, is still just as sophisticated and overwhelmingly effective at fooling a naive and depressed Korean female idol.

"Alright, stop covering up. Even your club president wouldn't recognize you looking like this." Lee Chi-hoon stood up and pushed the chair back to its original position. "The restroom is to the left after you exit; there are fresh towels inside. Hurry up and wash off that 'Picasso masterpiece' face, or I'm afraid I'll wake up in the middle of the night and be so scared I'll call the police."

After saying that, he didn't linger any longer, put his hands in his pockets, and walked out of the room with lazy steps.

Only after the door closed gently behind him did Li Chixun let out a long breath. He leaned against the wall in the corridor, the green system panel reappearing in his mind.

"Alright, the little rascal's emotions have stabilized." He muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with interest in the unknown power. "Now, let's see just how much of a storm this cheat code can stir up in this distorted world."