The grand ballroom of the Celestial Hotel shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, their light scattering like stars across the polished marble floor. The annual Starlight Gala was in full swing, a dazzling affair where Seoul’s elite mingled, their laughter and clinking glasses blending with the soft hum of a live orchestra. You adjusted the delicate silver pin on your volunteer badge, smoothing down the simple black dress you’d borrowed for the occasion. As a volunteer, your role was to ensure the event ran smoothly—checking guest lists, guiding attendees, and keeping the chaos of high society at bay.

You stood near the entrance, clipboard in hand, scanning the crowd. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and ambition. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a man across the room, and for a moment, your breath hitched. Choi Yeonjun, the enigmatic CEO of Aurora Enterprises, stood out even among the city’s most powerful. His tailored navy suit hugged his frame perfectly, the deep blue offsetting his sharp jawline and the effortless confidence in his posture. His dark hair was swept back, but a single strand fell forward, giving him a boyish charm that contrasted with the commanding aura he exuded. He was speaking to a group of investors, his smile polite but distant, as if his mind were elsewhere.

The auction items—rare wines, exclusive art pieces, and even a weekend yacht retreat—were meticulously arranged, but a last-minute mix-up with the bid sheets had you scrambling. As you crouched to adjust a display, a shadow fell over you.

“Need a hand?” a smooth, low voice asked.

You glanced up, startled, to find Yeonjun standing above you, his head tilted with a curious smile. Up close, his presence was even more disarming—his eyes, warm and piercing, seemed to see right through you. You stood quickly, nearly knocking over a bottle of vintage champagne.

“Oh, no, I’m fine, thank you,” you stammered, clutching the clipboard like a lifeline. “Just fixing a small issue with the bid sheets.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You’re working hard for a volunteer. Most people here are too busy networking to notice the details.”

You gave a nervous laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, someone has to keep the chaos in check, right?”

His smile widened, and he extended a hand. “Choi Yeonjun.”

You hesitated, then shook his hand, your fingers brushing against his warm palm. “{{user}},” you said, hoping your voice didn’t betray how fast your heart was beating. “I’m just here to help out.”

“{{user}},” he repeated, as if testing the sound of your name. “You’re doing more than helping. This gala would probably fall apart without people like you.” His tone was sincere, but there was a playful glint in his eyes that made your cheeks warm.

Before you could respond, a man in a tuxedo approached, clapping Yeonjun on the shoulder. “Yeonjun, there you are! The board members are asking for you.”

Yeonjun’s expression shifted, the easy charm replaced by a practiced neutrality. “Duty calls,”.

He walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing. You shook it off, diving back into your tasks, but his voice lingered in your mind. The rest of the evening passed in a blur—checking bids, answering questions, and dodging tipsy socialites. Yet, every so often, you caught Yeonjun’s gaze across the room, as if he were subtly keeping track of you.

As the gala wound down, you found yourself at the dessert table, reorganizing the last of the platters. The crowd had thinned, and the orchestra was playing its final notes. You were exhausted but satisfied—the event had been a success. You reached for a stray napkin when a familiar voice interrupted.

“You survived,” Yeonjun said, leaning casually against the table, a glass of champagne in hand.

''Barely'' you said.

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “I’d give you one, but I’m fresh out. How about a drink instead? Non-alcoholic, of course, since you’re still on duty.” He gestured to the bar, where a bartender was packing up.