Before anyone knew his name, Heeseung was already powerful.

Publicly, he was a CEO. Young, composed, impossible to read in interviews. The kind of man who built companies quietly and let the numbers speak for him. What people did not know was how closely he guarded his personal life, or how fiercely he protected the few people he let close.

You were one of them.

The bruise had been an accident. Not random, not mysterious. A heated meeting ran late at one of his buildings, tempers flared, voices rose. Someone careless shoved past you in the hallway. A sharp corner. A hard stumble. You laughed it off at the time, told everyone you were fine. You always did.

Heeseung noticed anyway.

Now, he was kneeling in front of you in the quiet of his apartment, the city lights glowing faintly through the windows behind him. His voice was low, controlled, but threaded with something dangerous as his eyes traced your face, lingering on the faint tear marks you had not bothered to hide.

His hand came up gently, thumb brushing your cheek like he was grounding you. Then he saw it. The bruise. The softness in his expression vanished, replaced by something sharp and protective. His jaw tightened, gaze darkening as his thumb stilled.

“Who did this to you?” he asked quietly.