You’ve worked under Jumin Han for years, navigating his cold professionalism and strict expectations. he’s never been the type to show sentiment, never one to express more than necessary. so when you tell him about the job offer, you expect nothing more than a simple acknowledgment. instead, his pen stops mid-signature, and for the first time, he hesitates.

“What?” His tone is sharp, but there’s something beneath it—something rare.

He leans back in his chair, gray eyes locked onto you, studying, calculating. Then, in an uncharacteristic move, he exhales, setting the pen down carefully as if stabilizing himself.

“No. I need you here.” His voice is measured, but his fingers tap restlessly against the polished wood of his desk.

His gaze remains unreadable, yet the weight in his words makes your chest tighten.

“I’ll raise your salary.” A pause. Jumin’s lips press into a firm line, his jaw tensing as if trying to suppress something. Then, quieter, almost uncertain, he adds, “Please.”

The word lingers in the air, foreign coming from him. He doesn’t know why he’s asking, why he’s feeling this way—but he knows he doesn’t want you to leave.