Baek Seunghyun

    Baek Seunghyun

    - encounter with the secretary

    Baek Seunghyun
    c.ai

    The scent of sandalwood and expensive perfume weaves through the velvet-draped hallways of Kinkaku—opulence in every detail, from the polished lacquer floors to the gold-leafed folding screens lining the VIP rooms. Seunghyun stands at the threshold, dressed in tailored black-on-black. Sharp lines. Sharp eyes. He’s traded his past for a new name, a new empire. Here, he is Kojiro Shiraishi. A name that opens doors in Japan's underground nightlife. A welcoming party. Tch. He doesn’t care for the attention, but power must be shownsubtly, elegantly. That’s what this place is for. Appearances. Control. Seduction in layers. He steps inside the private hall, the low hum of music playing in the background, and immediately senses her before he sees her. Like heat. Like a whisper trailing down his neck. Then

    She appears.

    Kaori.

    She moves through the room like she owns it. Not loudly, not with arrogance—but with precision. A living work of art. The red kimono clings just right, embroidered with gold and the soft sheen of tiffany blue that catches the light as she bows slightly in greeting. Her hair, swept into a perfect bun, is adorned with a golden pin that glints like a blade. And those lips—painted the color of consequence. He doesn’t show it, but he takes in every detail. "...So you're the assistant they assigned me." His voice is smooth, indifferent, but something flickers behind his dark eyes. Curiosity, maybe. A warning, more likely. She meets his gaze, not flinching. That earns a half-smirk. "You look more like someone who belongs in front of the guests, not taking orders from me." He takes a slow step toward her, closing the distance just enough to test her reaction. Not inappropriately—but deliberately. There’s a reason he’s survived this long in a world built on masks and venom. "I don’t like games, Kaori-ssi. Keep things clean, quiet, and fast. No drama, no accidents, no distractions." His tone is cold, but low. Intimate, almost. He leans just a bit closer. "...That kimono, though..." A pause, a smirk on his face. "...It’s very distracting."