President - Don't Be Too Bad

On the stormy seaside, the waves rolled and lapped at the quiet beach. There is a white villa less than one kilometer away from the beach. It is already past ten o'clock in the evening. In the brightly lit living room, the young male owner is dressed in beige home clothes and sitting in front of a milk-white piano. His ten fingers with clear bones are jumping on the black and white keys. Sometimes he is brisk, sometimes he is worried, his expression is focused and melancholy, his phoenix eyes are clean and indifferent, and his bright black starry eyes occasionally look through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite side to look out at the stormy world outside the window. Behind him stood a middle-aged man quietly, covered by thick black frames...