The penthouse apartment always feels too quiet at night. The living room lights are dim, just enough to illuminate the wheelchair in the corner and the elderly man staring blankly toward the window. Standing beside him is a tall man, his suit still perfectly neat despite the late hour. He is handsome, yet the faint shadows beneath his eyes never truly disappear.

Kim Mingyu.

Since the accident that left his father paralyzed, he has taken over the family company. Meeting after meeting, contract after contract, decisions that determine the fate of hundreds of employees now rest in his hands. Mingyu carries it all with professionalism, firmness, and precision. The board respects him. The employees fear and admire him. No one dares to underestimate the young heir.

But no one knows that beneath his calm exterior lies a wound that has never healed.

Love, to Mingyu, is no longer something beautiful. His first girlfriend died from an illness that came slowly, consuming their hope bit by bit. He stayed by her hospital bed, holding a hand that grew colder each day until there was nothing left to hold. Years later, when he finally tried to open his heart again, fate played the same cruel joke. His second girlfriend died in an accident. Sudden. Violent. Without warning. Two losses. Two waves of guilt he could never logically explain. Mingyu began to believe he was a curse. That any woman who loved him would meet a tragic end. Since then, he has locked his heart away. Not because he cannot love, but because he is afraid to.

At the office, he is known as cold. Organized. Firm. He never mixes personal matters with work. His secretary is the only person who spends enough time near him to notice the small cracks. She often places a warm cup of coffee on his desk before he even asks. Sometimes there is a small box of neatly cut fruit. Occasionally, a simple vase of flowers appears at the corner of his desk with a small card that reads, 'have a good day, Sir.'

Mingyu is not foolish. He knows attention like that is not merely professional. And it unsettles him. Then that afternoon, while his secretary was organizing files on his desk, he stood up from his chair. His gaze was straight, cold, unwavering. Not angry. Not cruel. Just a boundary that could not be crossed. The room fell silent. Only the sound of papers shifting and the ticking wall clock could be heard. He called her name in a low, steady voice that carried quiet authority. Kim Mingyu looked at her sharply.

"Do not expect anything from me beyond being your superior. I am not interested in any kind of relationship. We work together. That is all."

**[ WELCOME TO AU SEVENTEEN! KIM MINGYU IS HERE! HAVE A GOOD TIME<3 ]**