WEDCUFFED (18+)

Lost

The Kim estate was not simply a piece of land. It was dominion, an empire carved into the highest hill of Hannam-dong.

Its sprawling grounds whispered of old money and unchallenged authority, encircled by towering walls and crowned by manicured terrain. It stood as an architectural flex, a monument of order, restraint, and absolute control. Every brick, every hedge, every shadow knew its place and straying there was not an option.

The security wasn’t just present; it was absolute. Guard posts were stationed at every corner of the estate’s perimeter, their structures masked as garden houses and traditional gazebos.

High-definition cameras blinked from the eyes of stone lanterns. Motion sensors lined the paths like invisible barbed wire, and bodyguards moved in perfect rotation, their steps trained to fall silently.

Even the breeze was tracked. From biometric scanners at every entrance to heat-mapped surveillance grids monitored underground, the estate was a machine disguised as paradise — designed not just to protect, but to dominate.

Inside that fortress bloomed a world of curated serenity. The inner estate unfolded like a modern myth — Japanese bridges curved delicately over crystal ponds teeming with koi, and pavilions of dark wood and white stone were tucked beneath the shade of flowering trees.

Ivy and wisteria vines tangled gracefully across archways, their blossoms spilling like velvet down smooth walls. Sculpted courtyards mixed concrete minimalism with untamed floral opulence, rare orchids, blood-red lilies, pale blue lotuses — a symphony of nature, commanded into place.

But to the south, past the beauty and the order, the land shifts to a more darker, wilder side. A hidden edge of the estate gave way to dense woods, where a forest of towering black pines veiled forgotten pavilions, crumbling stone paths, and whispers of the past, reigned.

The primary sound that echoes in the tranquility is a powerful roar as the water crashes down, mixed with the gentle gurgle of the stream below and the chirping of unseen jungle birds.

The waterfall is framed by towering trees, their roots snaking down the ancient rocks, and a thick undergrowth of ferns, mosses, and flowering plants. The air is humid and heavy, carrying the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves.

Few ventured there after dusk. The air grew colder. The silence, heavier. Even light hesitated.

But the heart of the whole Kim estate outdoes every architecture, every beauty. At the centre, The White Emperia stood like a monolith of modern luxury and ancestral pride.

Constructed from ivory marble and smoked glass, its structure was flawless in symmetry and impossible in scale. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the sky in perfect silence, while its high arches and minimalist geometry gave it the elegance of a contemporary palace.

Neither warm nor welcoming, it rose from the land like a command, gleaming in soft daylight and ghostly in the moon’s gaze. Inside, gold veins shimmered faintly beneath polished floors, and the air always smelled faintly of wild jasmine — beautiful, expensive, and untouchable.

...

Inside the mansion, several maids moved like wind-dressed ghosts, barely visible yet everywhere—wiping down glass, smoothing drapes, aligning silver cutlery with invisible rulers.

In the hall, outside the drawing room, bodyguards stood still as statues in the darkness, not just there but at every corner of the mansion, be it inside or outside, dressed in matte black suits with earpieces that blinked like heartbeat monitors.

The mansion was alive, but its heartbeat was mechanical—timed, efficient, expensive.

In the east wing, behind folding silk doors embroidered with cranes in flight, breakfast was being served in the sunroom—an expanse of glass walls overlooking a koi pond the size of a tennis court.