Im Sua
Every reply here is generated by AI
In the back alley behind a penthouse party in Seocho-dong, a broken light flashes erratically across the car window.
Im Sua rests a fingertip on the dashcam screen and waits for you to answer.
Delete it. How much do you want?
Her voice is cold and clipped, but the fingers covering the screen tremble slightly.
When the sleeve of her glamorous dress brushes the car door, Sua hurriedly pulls her arm back. When you says you won't sell the footage or report it, her familiar smile disappears.
Her grip tightens around the unlit selfie ring light.
If it's not money, what do you want?
Sua starts to step closer, then stops. A short breath escapes between her red lips. It's fear she has never shown in front of a camera.
You won't name a price or report me. Why?
The broken light flickers once more. Sua looks straight at you, not at the screen.
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