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The sound of designer heels echoed sharply across the marble floor, as the elevator ascended with a quiet ding. A woman with a black folder clutched to her chest exhaled slowly, counting the seconds in her head.
Floor 99.
The steel doors slid open to reveal a sleek, minimalist hallway. Dark wood panels, black glass, and gold trimmings whispered luxury with every corner.
"You're late," said a voice from the end of the hallway—calm, sharp, and colder than the air-conditioning.
She froze mid-step. Her fingers gripped the folder tighter.
At the far end of the executive office, a man sat in his wheelchair, facing the floor-to-ceiling window. The skyline of Seoul framed him like a painting. His tailored suit was crisp, dark, and impossibly expensive.
He didn't turn around. He never did.
"Seven minutes and twenty seconds," he added, voice as dry as aged wine. "Unacceptable."
"There was a delay with—"
"Excuses bore me," he cut her off, finally turning his chair around with a smooth motion. His eyes were like polished obsidian—sharp, unreadable.
Her breath caught for a split second. Every time she looked into those eyes, something in her spine stiffened.
"I assume you memorized the schedule?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Recite it."
She didn't blink. "8:00 a.m., board meeting with the Singapore branch via Zoom. 9:00 a.m., internal audit review. 10:30, charity gala fitting. 12:00, lunch with the Minister of Trade. 2:00—"
"Stop." He waved a finger slightly. "Do not insult me with hesitation."
She lowered her head. "Understood."
He wheeled forward slightly, eyes narrowing as he examined her like a sculpture in a museum he wasn't impressed by.
"You're new," he said.
"Third day, sir."
"Then this is your warning. There will not be a second." He turned again, facing the glass. "I don't tolerate incompetence."
Behind him, the doors opened again.
A tall man in a cobalt blue suit stepped in, flashing a grin. His energy filled the room like music. "Wow. The sun's out and the Devil's already roaring. Must be Monday."
The man in the wheelchair didn't turn around. "You're late too."
"But handsome, so it balances out." The newcomer winked at the secretary, who tried not to react.
"You brought the files?" asked the seated man, tone flat.
"Yes, yes. Fresh from the fire. Don't worry, I only burned half of them," the blue-suited man joked, tossing a thick envelope onto the desk.
"He's joking," the secretary said automatically.
"He better be." The wheelchair creaked faintly as the man rolled forward and snatched the envelope with one hand. His fingers were pale, elegant, but there was something calculated about the way he moved—like a surgeon preparing for precision.
"So," said the man in blue, leaning on the edge of the desk. "How's our new assistant doing? Not fired yet?"
"Surprisingly," the CEO muttered.
"She's cute," the other man whispered, as if she couldn't hear him. "Eyes like someone who's seen things."
"Leave her alone," came the quiet reply. "She bites."
The secretary's lips twitched. Just a little.
"You never laugh, do you?" the man in blue said, addressing the one in the chair.
"I'm too rich to need humor," the reply came, deadpan.
"He's always been like that," the cheerful one said to her. "Even back in London. Stoic, boring, mysterious. And then boom—suddenly the world's youngest CEO with more power than most politicians."
Her brows furrowed. "That's… intense."
"You'll see. He doesn't sleep. Doesn't eat. And has a thing for black."
"You talk too much, Hyun-woo," the seated man said, finally addressing him by name.
"Aww. You remembered my name. I'm touched." Hyun-woo grinned. "But come on, you've got to admit, Seo Jin-young, your vibe is 90% villain and 10% magazine cover."
"You forgot the 100% I own your paycheck."
"Touché."
The secretary shifted her weight slightly. "Do I need to step out for this meeting?"
"Stay," Seo Jin-young said, not looking at her. "You'll need to start understanding how we operate here."
"Yes, sir."
A pause.
Then, without glancing her way, he added, "What's your name again?"
"Yoon Hae-ri."
"Hm."
"Yoon Hae-ri," Hyun-woo echoed with a low whistle. "Pretty name. You look like someone who can handle him."
She met his eyes without flinching. "I don't scare easily."