#kalla

The boardroom was tense, a sharp contrast to its usual opulence. The investors sat around the table, their expressions ranging from annoyed to outright furious.

—This is unacceptable, San —one of them started, slamming a printed version of the reviews on the table—. We've worked hard to rebuild the hotel's reputation after the last incident, and now this? If this spirals, we're risking everything.

—I understand —San said, his voice steady but firm—. We're already working on addressing the guest's complaints. I'll personally ensure the staff clarifies all policies moving forward.

—That's not enough —another investor snapped—. The damage is already done. If this goes viral...

Before the argument could escalate, the door opened, and Y/n stepped in.

—I'm sorry to interrupt —she apologized with a thin voice, carefully closing the door behind her.

San's eyes briefly widened in surprise, but he said nothing as she walked to the side of the room, carrying a folder of notes she had prepared.

The few months she had been working there, she kept herself from showing up in those meetings, knowing how stiff and serious everyone in that group were. San had actually tried to keep her out of it himself, saving her up from an uncomfortable time.

But after seeing San pacing his office earlier, clearly distressed about a new problem, she thought that maybe the situation was way too serious to just shrug it off. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie slightly loosened /a rare sight for someone as meticulously composed as him. Y/n had watched quietly from the doorway, unnoticed as he muttered under his breath, rehearsing possible responses. Though he never asked for help, she could sense his unease. It was in the way he avoided looking at his reflection in the window, as though his own doubt might stare back at him. That was when she decided she couldn't stay on the sidelines.

Y/n listened intently, her eyes darting between the investors and San as they volleyed accusations and defense.

She didn't know much about big companies, but his investors were always on his neck, and that made her understand why he was so strict at the beginning with her.

—This isn't just about policies —one man said, his voice tight with irritation—. It's about perception. If guests think we're cutting corners...

—We're not cutting corners —San interjected sharply—. This was an isolated incident, and we're already handling it.

—And what about the fallout? —another snapped.

Misuk, sitting opposite to San, was getting ready to speak, her tongue licking her lips before she parted them, ready to come up with an amount of money to cover it all up. Although she could only breathe in, because another voice spoke before she could.

—If I may —her voice was calm but firm enough to cut through the noise—. I think there's a way to address both the incident and the perception issue without turning this into a larger scandal —she began, drawing the room's attention.

The investors turned their gazes toward the back of the room, toward her, skeptical to what she was going to say, while San leaned back slightly in his chair, his curiosity piqued.

—Go on —while he intertwined his fingers in front of his face, there was a proud look in his eyes and a barely seen smirk that gave her the courage she needed to go on.

—I looked into the guest's complaint —Y/n opened her folder and handed out a few pages she'd printed earlier— and the policies they're citing. While the reviews are damaging, this isn't a systemic issue: it's a miscommunication. The guest didn't fully read the terms, and the staff didn't clarify. We can fix this by tightening how we communicate with guests about themed nights.

—And how exactly do we fix the public perception? —one of the investors asked, raising an eyebrow.

—By owning the mistake and showing transparency —Y/n said confidently—. Release a statement apologizing for the miscommunication and outlining the steps we're taking to improve. This shows accountability and rebuilds trust. Additionally, I suggest offering the guest a VIP experience to turn them into an advocate instead of a critic —she took a deep breath, slowly heading the table next to San—. If we try to hide it, after the big scandal we managed to get over with, the public will think there's something deeper to it, and it'll backfire. Instead, if we show transparency and work showing all of our moves, the public will thank it. Not to mention that, revealing to the public that the guest wasn't entirely right, will probably make them back off on their accusations.

The room was silent for a moment before one investor leaned back, nodding slowly.

—It's not a bad idea.

—It's a quite smart solution —another investor chimed in—. We could even get benefitted from this issue.

San watched Y/n as she navigated the discussion, her composure and confidence disarming even the most skeptical board members. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, he wasn't sure if he was more impressed or relieved.

As the investors filed out, some murmuring their tentative approval, San lingered by the wide table, still waiting for the moment he could be alone with Y/n. And it finally happened, the door closed behind one of the investors, a friendly smile as a goodbye.

When she was straightening from the bow, she turned to San, finding his face serious and intimidating.

Did she actually... mess it up?

—I didn't expect you to step in —he said, walking dangerously toward her.

—Were you expecting me to stay on the side? —her eyebrow raised.

And then it was when his facade broke and he smiled, his gaze softening before his arm attempted to wrap around her waist.

—Not something you could be successful at —he confessed—. You'd steal the attention either way.

Her smile was shy, while her body squirmed under his flirting and touch, but she went back to the original conversation quickly.

—You looked stressed —Y/n explained herself, shrugging—. I thought that you could use the backup.

He studied her for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, almost as an afterthought, he said:

—Thank you.

—You don't have to thank me —she replied, her voice light—. Just don't let them bully you next time, I won't always be around...

San chuckled under his breath, the sound rare but genuine. For the first time in days, he felt like the storm was manageable, with her standing beside him.

—You handled them better than I ever could.

—If I can handle you, I can handle anyone I want.

For a moment, he didn't answer, his eyes lingering on her face. There was something grounding about her presence, something that made him feel less like the world was on his shoulders.

She couldn't react, when she realized what was happening, she was already sitting at the edge of the table, with San parting her legs to be able to place himself between them.

—So you can handle anyone? —he purred against her lips.

—Look at yourself in the mirror and you'll find the first victim —her head was tilted to the side in a funny way.

—That's so right.

He pulled her close, their bodies pressed together as they kissed, their lips molding together like two pieces of a puzzle. Y/n could feel his muscles relax as she moved her hands over his wide back, her caresses made all of his hairs raise for her.

Y/n let out a soft moan as San's tongue explored her mouth, their bodies pressed close together. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to burn with him.

San's hands began to roam, tracing patterns on Y/n's back and shoulders. He reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck, already picturing the invisible trail he was going to draw. He trailed kisses down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin.

—You drive me so insane that it seems like we both forgot who commands here.

—Are you going to show me? —his hands sliding down to cup Y/n's breasts.

He squeezed gently, teasing her nipples through the fabric of her shirt.

Y/n gasped, arching her back as San's fingers worked their magic. She reached down to undo the buttons of her shirt, revealing her lacy bra, looking for some more direct touch. San's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her, and he leaned in to take one of her nipples into his mouth, although he stopped before doing it, only allowing her to feel his warm breath over the fabric of her bra.

—Oh, yes —San assured her, while her fingers threaded through his hair, not aware of the disappointment he was preparing her for.

—You'll get out of here and back to the office, and you'll try to cover how desperate you're for me to fuck you right here —he explained, while his fingers worked to button up her shirt, topping her frustration by pinching her chin.

—I deserve a reward —she whined—. I saved your ass, minimum...

—Want to turn your reward into a punishment tonight? —he warned her— Be patient and good, and do as you were told.

A huff escaped her lips when she forced herself down the table, annoyed at how he played her, before he called her out again.

—With a smile —he continued.

While looking up to him, she forced a smile, curving her lips up while keeping the same straight look in her eyes. She kept up that act, and even turned to him while she opened the door, the smile only turning genuine once she closed it behind her.

As she walked away, San found himself smiling again, the weight on his chest feeling just a little bit lighter.

Y/n stepped out of the conference room, her breath steady despite the tension that had just unfolded inside. She clutched her folder to her chest to hide the evident aftermath of San's touch, walking briskly down the hall to clear her mind.

She barely noticed Misuk leaning casually against the wall until the other woman straightened and stepped into her path.

—Impressive performance in there —Misuk said, her voice silky but laced with something veiled.

Her red-painted lips curled into a faint smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

—Thank you —Y/n replied politely, though she instinctively tightened her grip on the folder.

She had no desire to linger in this conversation, but Misuk did, that was why she got on her way when Y/n almost managed to walk past her.

—You've got a sharp mind —Misuk continued, falling into step beside her—. San seems to value that. Not many people can command a room like that, especially in front of people who clearly weren't expecting it.

—It's about focusing on solutions —Y/n glanced at her briefly—, not problems. That's what matters.

—True —Misuk hummed, her gaze trailing downward—, but not everyone in that room was focused on the presentation, were they?

Y/n stopped for a second, turning to face Misuk fully.

—What are you trying to say?

—Oh, nothing —Misuk said innocently, but her hand drifted up, fingers brushing the delicate eternity collar resting around Y/n's neck.

The gesture was subtle, but it sent a jolt of awareness through Y/n. Misuk's eyes lingered on the collar, then flicked back to hers, her smile sharpening.

—It's a lovely piece —Misuk remarked, her tone light but pointed—. Very unique. And it suits you... though I wonder if you know just how much it says.

—Thank you —Y/n's heartbeat quickened, but she kept her expression neutral—. Thank you. It was a gift.

—I figured as much —Misuk replied, her words slow and deliberate—. San has a way of picking things that leave an impression, doesn't he?

Before Y/n could respond, Misuk took a step back, her smile softening into something deceptively friendly.

—Well, I'll leave you to it. I'm sure you've got plenty to do.

As she turned and walked away, Y/n stood frozen for a moment, her mind racing. Misuk's words weren't outright confrontational, but their implications were impossible to ignore.

When she returned to her desk, her fingers brushed the collar absentmindedly. For the first time, it felt heavier than it should, a symbol of something far too noticeable. She made a mental note to talk to San later, not just about Misuk's comments but the consequences that would be linked to them.

The aftermath of their latest session hung in the air like a comforting embrace. Y/n sat on San's couch, her body wrapped in a soft throw blanket as she sipped water from the glass he'd handed her. His usually intense demeanor had softened, his eyes lingering on her in a way that felt more tender than usual.

—You comfortable? —he asked, his voice quiet yet full of care.

Y/n smiled, her cheeks slightly flushed from the intimacy they'd just shared.

—Yeah.

San's lips curved into a rare, gentle smile. He was squatting in front of her, his fingers carefully moving over the places the handcuffs were around. She had chosen, she never said the safe word, but for some reason he was still extra careful about her well-being.

—I'm okay —she chuckled, moving her hands away from his fingers.

She cupped his cheeks, puckering his lips before she kissed him.

She was actually okay. Their session was quite normal, compared to other times. He tied up her ankles and her wrists, all of them linked by a firm leather strap, allowing him to move her however he pleased. When she came up it, she never thought it'd turn out as good as it was.

—Are you hungry? —he asked, breaking the kiss only to please her.

—Uh-hum —she nodded—. Just a bit.

He looked at her for a moment, looking contemplative, before he gave a soft peck on the tip of her nose to get up from the floor, then suddenly clapped his hands together.

—Stay here. I've got something planned.

She arched a brow.

—What are you up to?

—You'll see —he said, giving her a mysterious smirk before hid half of his body behind the counter.

A few minutes passed, and Y/n could hear the distinct clattering of pots and pans. The sounds were followed by an occasional curse muttered under San's breath. Curious, she leaned forward, peeking toward the kitchen. His eyebrows were knitted together, more than focused, he seemed to let frustration reach a new peak.

—I have it all under control —San called out, his voice playful but teasing.

—I'm just making sure you don't need any help —Y/n teased back, laughing softly.

—Trust me. You'll love this —he said, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone.

Time ticked by, and the scent of something... unusual wafted into the living room. She wrinkled her nose slightly but kept her mouth shut, knowing how much effort he must have been putting into whatever he was doing.

Finally, he showed up in front of her again, holding a plate in each hand. His black t-shirt with several stains of a white substance, while his pants had the mark of his palm as he dragged it to clean himself.

—Dinner is ready.

Y/n's eyes widened as she looked at the plates. They were filled with what appeared to be... pasta? Sort of. The noodles were oddly clumped together, and the sauce was a peculiar shade of orange with chunks of something she couldn't quite identify.

—It's... creative —she said diplomatically, trying to suppress her laughter.

San set the plates down on the table, pulling a chair out for her.

—I followed a recipe —he said proudly, though his expression faltered when he noticed her hesitation—. I know you love Italian food, so I decided to make something for you.

Ever since she told him she missed the days her parents would take her to her favorite Italian restaurant back home after every competition, San had been piling up all possible Italian recipes he could find. Never finding a chance to cook it until that night.

Slowly, she walked toward the table, dragging the chair back without taking her eyes off the food.

She took a deep breath, grabbed her fork, and twirled a bit of the sticky noodles around it. Taking a cautious bite, she chewed slowly, her face twisting involuntarily. The taste was a mix of burnt garlic and... was that sugar?

—San —she said, swallowing hard—, did you follow the whole recipe or just parts of it?

He frowned, sitting beside her and taking a bite himself. While her hand still held the fork, he twirled some of the noodles and took a bite. His face scrunched immediately, and he groaned, putting the fork down, while his fingers were still on Y/n's hands.

—Okay, so maybe I misread a few things.

—More like missing... It seems like you added things that shouldn't be there.

They locked eyes, and in that shared moment of culinary failure, the tension broke. Y/n burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand, while San rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling despite himself.

—Well —he said, standing up and grabbing the plates—, cooking is definitely not our thing.

—We could live from ramen and snacks, but you're too healthy to even consider it —she narrowed her eyes.

—You'll thank my advice in the long rong.

Y/n chuckled as she wiped her mouth, finally managing to stop laughing after their disastrous dinner attempt. San leaned back against his chair, arms crossed, a rare sheepish expression on his face.

—I admit defeat —he said with a sigh—. I thought cooking was easier.

—Well, at least you tried. And I appreciate what you did, even if it ended poorly —Y/n teased, standing up and stretching—. But I'm not letting you starve tonight.

San raised an eyebrow.

—Got a plan?

—There's a great Italian place a few blocks away —she suggested, brushing her hands down her sides to smooth her outfit—. Let's go there.

The warm, rustic atmosphere of the restaurant wrapped around them as they settled into a cozy corner booth. The scent of fresh bread and rich tomato sauce filled the air, and the dim lighting gave the space an intimate feel.

San ordered a glass of wine, while Y/n opted for some water. The waiter took their orders, a classic carbonara for her and a seafood risotto for him, and left them alone -although they both would end up sharing it.

—So —San began, his voice calm and low—, do I get points for redeeming myself?

Y/n laughed softly.

—I suggested the place —she called him out—. I'll give you a solid seven for effort, and for being pretty in front of me.

He tilted his head, pretending to be offended.

—Only seven?

—Fine. Seven and a half —she teased, swirling her straw in her water.

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, sharing lighthearted stories about their respective days. But Y/n's laughter was more reserved than usual, her mind drifting back to her earlier encounter with Misuk.

Y/n couldn't shake the image of Misuk's hand brushing against her eternity collar, the subtle smirk that suggested she knew more than she let on. Her fingers instantly brushed against the necklace the same way she did, wondering how long it'd take until that encounter affected those same carefree moments between San and her.

—Y/n? —his voice broke through her thoughts, and she blinked, realizing she'd been staring at her untouched water.

—Sorry —she said quickly, shaking her head—. Just... thinking.

San narrowed his eyes slightly, leaning forward.

—Thinking about what?

She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to bring it up. Misuk's words echoed in her mind.

—I think Misuk knows there's something between us —she finally confessed—. She knows you gave me the collar.

—She doesn't know —he corrected her—. She just guessed and is right, which I guess is the same thing —he shrugged, giving a sip to his drink—. Who cares if she knows?

—Should I remind you she's one of the most important investors? And who also happens to be obsessed with you? —she urged him to realize.

—I don't care, and you shouldn't either —he tried to calm her down, his hand reaching for hers—. Because nothing will make me stop thinking I'm the luckiest just by being in your orbit.

That sentence alone made Y/n smile shyly, her feet kicking under the table while she held back his hand.

Their food arrived, and the mood lifted slightly as they dove into their meals. San took a bite of his carbonara, humming in approval.

—Better than my pasta experiment?

—Infinitely better —Y/n said with a grin, savoring her risotto.

As the meal continued, San's occasional glances told her he noticed the change in her attitude, with her quickly going back to the Y/n who'd always run around with a smile on her face.

They finished their meal in relative silence, but it wasn't awkward. There was something grounding about his presence, a reminder that, despite everything swirling around them, they had this moment of peace. And for now, that was enough.

The cool night air wrapped around Y/n and San as they strolled through the bustling streets of Seoul. The atmosphere was lively, with neon lights flickering and the hum of chatter filling the air. Despite the chaos around them, everything felt calm between them. San's hand was warm and steady in hers, a comforting contrast to the chill of the evening.

They didn't speak much, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Y/n enjoyed the rare calm of being with San outside their usual high-stress environments.

As they turned a corner, the smell of sweet, fried dough wafted toward them. Y/n's eyes lit up as she spotted a hotteok stand, the vendor expertly flipping the golden pancakes on a sizzling griddle.

—Stay here. I'll get us some —San said, his voice soft but thoughtful.

Y/n smiled as he let go of her hand and walked toward the stand, exchanging a few words with the vendor. Even if she had tried to stop him, it probably would've given her the same result. She watched him, noticing how he seemed different that night, more relaxed, even playful in his subtle way.

Just as she was getting lost in the moment, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her pocket, expecting something from the girls or Seonghwa, but what she saw on the screen made her stomach twist.

Her thumb hovered over the notification before she opened it.

"You want to protect San? Then meet me tomorrow. We need to talk. If you ignore this, his reputation will be ruined again. 8 PM. Don't be late.

A secret between you and me."

Her heart raced. The text felt like ice in her veins, chilling her from the inside out. She glanced up at San, who was now paying for the hotteok, oblivious to the mess her head was turning into.

—Y/n?

She quickly locked her phone, plastering on a smile as San walked back over, holding the hotteok wrapped in paper. He handed her one, his eyes soft with concern.

—You okay?

—Yeah —she said quickly, forcing a laugh—. Rosie got in trouble with someone again, nothing new.

San raised an eyebrow but didn't press further.

—Here, try this. It's fresh.

She took a bite, the sweet syrup filling her mouth, but the taste barely registered. Her mind was spinning with the message. Who could it be? What did they know? And most importantly, how did they plan to use it against San?

San wiped a bit of syrup off the corner of her mouth with his thumb, his touch gentle.

—You seem tense again. Are you sure you're okay?

—I'm fine, really —she nodded, swallowing hard—. Just tired, I guess.

—Alright —he gave her a skeptical look but didn't push—. But if something's bothering you, you'll tell me?

—Of course —she hesitated, then nodded with a smile.

They continued their walk, but Y/n's mind was no longer on the peaceful night or the sweet treat in her hand. Instead, it was on the meeting she couldn't avoid, and the secret she had to protect at all costs.

Taglist: @brown88