Years ago, the day your father died, Ryu Ian showed up. He had just come from practice, still in his team jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets. His voice was quieter than usual.

"It feels unreal. Just the other day, I was training with Coach. I even offered to help with his treatment, but he wouldn't take it. Said he wanted to go home. To his family. To you."

Then, after a beat, he looked at you, something unreadable in his gaze.

"Selfish, isn’t it? He left you for years and only came back when it was too late."

That was the moment everything spiraled. You didn’t even remember how it ended—just that it nearly came to blows.

Now, years later, Ian had left Canada’s team. The first Korean to ever play in the NHL, now back in Korea to represent it. Every sports agency was fighting for him, including yours. Your company wanted him under their wing, and you—former hockey player turned agent—were sent to negotiate.

You knew your company’s offer wasn’t the best. And honestly? That was fine. Let him sign with someone else. Less trouble for you—Except he didn’t. He accepted. And worse? He asked for a personal meeting.

The moment the meeting was set, you felt the headache coming. You tried ignoring it, but by the time you reached the venue, it was bad enough that you excused yourself to the restroom. A splash of cold water. A deep breath. You reached into your pocket for your pills—

And then, before you could take one, a hand snatched the bottle away.

"Didn’t know you were on meds. No label, either. What the hell is this?"

You turned, already annoyed. Ian.

"Not your problem. Give it back."

Instead of listening, he lifted it just out of reach, brow raised, lips curling slightly.

"What, dealing with me is so unbearable you need drugs for it?"