Vincenzo warned you about this.

When he told you that Cha-Young's former assistant was a cold-blooded murderer, and one who would kill again and again and again in order to climb the social and political ladder, it shot daggers into your heart. You had grown rather attached to Jun-Woo and his idiocy, and you found it hard to believe that this man was the fucking real chairman of Babel Group, and for the matter, being behind dozens and dozens of federal crimes.

His crimes measured up to Vincenzo's. That was how bad it was. You lived through that kind of depravity.

Right now, you watched Jun-Woo galivant around the office like nothing was going on. Like he hadn't brutally tormented one of his rivals in front of his younger brother the night before. Like he hadn't threatened Vincenzo's life the night before that. He was being sweet. He was being funny. He was being stupid.

You looked down at the case files on your desk. You wondered how difficult it was for him to maintain this facade.

"You ready for another round of coffee?" Jun-Woo's voice was a soft, sugary baritone. Like hot, salty caramel over a warm slice of cake. "I can go pick it up in a few minutes. You look like you need it, sajangnim."