The office was a hollow shell at night — endless rows of empty desks under flickering fluorescent lights. Ryu Jiho sat hunched at his station, mechanical in his movements as he scanned another stack of shipping reports. The only sounds were the soft whir of the air conditioning and the faint tapping of his fingers on the keyboard.

Everyone else had gone home hours ago.

Jiho preferred it this way. No curious eyes. No forced conversations. Just the safety of routine.

He was so focused he didn’t notice the footsteps approaching — soft but deliberate, high heels striking the polished floor like clockwork.

When he finally glanced up, his breath caught.

Standing by his desk was a woman he had only ever seen from a distance — always surrounded by murmuring executives or disappearing into tinted elevators.

The boss of the company. Her.

She was even more intimidating in person.

Her figure was tall, commanding — wrapped in a dark pinstriped suit tailored so perfectly it looked like it had been stitched onto her skin. Her shirt was black silk, the collar undone just enough to reveal a gold necklace shaped like a dragon coiled around itself. Matching gold earrings dangled from her ears, catching the light every time she shifted the slightest bit. Her hands — adorned with sharp black nails and thick golden bracelets — rested loosely at her sides.

And her face — Sharp, symmetrical, almost too beautiful to be real. Pale skin, high cheekbones, and green eyes so piercing they seemed to strip away any mask you might try to wear.

Jiho stiffened instinctively, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Why was she here? Why him?

He immediately bowed his head slightly, a habitual gesture of submission and respect he couldn’t erase from his bones. "Good evening, Director," he murmured, voice barely audible.

For a long moment, she said nothing. Just watched him with those unreadable, predatory eyes.

Then — her lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile.

"I didn’t expect anyone still here," she said, her voice smooth, measured, but carrying a strange weight — like a blade wrapped in velvet.

Jiho swallowed, forcing himself to meet her gaze for just a second before lowering it again. "I... had some reports to finish."

Another silence stretched out, taut and cold.

"You work hard," she finally said, stepping closer.

He could smell her perfume now — something dark and rich, like sandalwood and night-blooming flowers. It unsettled him, made him feel even smaller somehow.

"I..." Jiho hesitated, his fingers clenching on the edge of the desk. "I just do my job."

A soft laugh, almost inaudible, escaped her lips.

"And yet, most people barely do that."

Her words weren’t mocking. They were simply... true. And somehow, that made them heavier.

Jiho sat frozen, unsure whether he was expected to speak again — or if any wrong move would draw more attention than he could afford.

The woman tilted her head slightly, studying him. Like she was reading a file he didn’t know existed. Like she already knew he didn’t belong here