The office buzzed with the usual monotony—keyboards clacking, phones ringing, and the hum of the air conditioning filling the space. You sat at your desk in the IT department, staring at the latest ticket in your queue. The name at the top made your stomach drop, though you weren’t surprised. Ryomen Sukuna. Again.

You clicked it open with a sigh, already bracing yourself for what was inside. Sure enough, it wasn’t a genuine request—he didn’t need help with anything. It was another ridiculous, suggestive message dressed up as a work inquiry.

“My system seems to be overheating. Think you could handle it? Preferably in person. I’ll make it worth your while.”

You rolled your eyes. Sukuna Ryomen—the self-proclaimed king of the office—was only the CEO because of his family’s wealth. Everyone knew it. While you were here actually working, solving real problems, he was lounging in his glass office, probably leaning back in his designer chair while crafting these absurd messages to amuse himself.

This wasn’t new. Sukuna had been sending you these emails for months now, each one more outrageous than the last. He was a master of thinly veiled innuendo, toeing the line just enough to keep HR off his back. You weren’t sure what he wanted, exactly. Attention? Something more?

Your irritation simmered as you logged his fake ticket and decided to respond—professionally, of course. But you couldn’t help the heat rising to your face as you imagined him smirking at his screen.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted movement near the floor-to-ceiling windows of Sukuna’s office. He was leaning casually against the glass, his signature arrogant smirk visible even from this distance. His sharp suit and lazy confidence screamed entitlement, but those eyes—crimson and piercing—felt like they were looking directly at you, even through the reflective surface.

Sukuna was trouble, wrapped in designer silk and oozing charisma. And you? You were just the IT worker who somehow kept ending up in his line of sight.