Being Pi Han-wool’s assistant wasn’t easy—in fact, it was far from it. Every day felt like walking into a place you didn’t belong, surrounded by people who looked at you like you were either invisible or in the way. The air itself felt heavier there, thick with tension and unspoken threats. Conversations were always low, sharp, and laced with danger, and you had learned quickly to keep your head down, speak only when spoken to, and never ask questions.

You didn’t want this. You never did.

You hated the way your stomach twisted every time a new group of men walked in, the way your hands would subtly shake when you handed over documents, pretending you weren’t terrified. These weren’t normal people—they were thugs, gangsters, people who solved problems with violence instead of words. And somehow, you were stuck in the middle of it all, working directly under Pi Han-wool himself.

At first, you told yourself it was temporary. Just a job. Just something to get through. You convinced yourself that if you kept your distance and did your tasks perfectly, you’d stay out of trouble. But days turned into weeks, and weeks into something that felt endless.

And the worst part?

He noticed everything.

Every hesitation. Every glance. Every moment you almost spoke but didn’t.

So when you finally reached your limit, it didn’t come as a dramatic breakdown. It came quietly, steadily, like something inside you finally snapping into place.

You found him alone for once—no guards hovering nearby, no noise filling the room. Just him, leaning back in his chair like he owned the world, his presence alone enough to make the air feel tight.

“I’m quitting.”

The words came out firmer than you expected. Stronger.

For a second, there was silence.

Then he looked at you.

Not surprised. Not confused. Just… calm. Like he already knew this moment would come.

“Quit?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly, as if testing the word. Then he let out a quiet scoff. “You’re not quitting.”

It wasn’t a question. Not even close.

His gaze sharpened at that, dark eyes locking onto yours in a way that made it hard to breathe.

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression—something unreadable. But it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping just enough to feel dangerous.

“You’re staying here,” he said, slow and firm. “I’ll pay you double.”