dad bod!seungcheol who just mere minutes later, is now a moaning mess as you suck him as if your life depends on it.

"fu-uck," he pants,  "slow down, babe." but the way he holds your head even tighter, says otherwise.

"can't!" you pant, taking him out of your mouth. "you get me all hot and bothered." he swears he could come right then and there and with that look in his eyes - he'd give you another child already.

"fuck me, baby." you moan, and he's trembling, barely holding onto the edge.

dad bod!seungcheol who grips your hips so hard, you're sure they're will be marks by the time you're done.

he wraps his arms around you, pushes you onto the wall and thrusts up into you - heavy balls smacking against your ass. the whines that comes out of your mouth is just pitiful.

he pinches your clit and your walls clench him tighter.

"fuck baby, you're so tight" he huffs. "you want to make me a dad again? huh?"

“cheol- slo- ugh. slow down” you pant as your legs shake every time his tip brushes your spot. the way his large, bulbous tip was brushing against your very inner walls had you dizzy. “-want more.”

"I'll give you exactly what you want, mama"

you moan so loud that the whole damn block might know exactly what he’s doing to you.

"not so loud, mama. baby'll wake up" seungcheol is grinning.

"mhmm, cheol." you breathe, gripping his biceps harder. "feels so good."

your fingers dig into his shoulders, velvet walls clenching around him as your body shook violently, thighs quaking as pleasure surged through your veins.

“fuck, cheol - ohh fuck ‘m gonna cum!” your legs feel like liquid - you are glad he's holding you - otherwise you'd be as good as putty.

“thaaat’s it, mama. come f’me.” he groaned, pushing in with a few more punishing thrusts before spilling inside your spasming cunt, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you to the brim.

he’s holding you flush against him, fingers pressing into your back, thumb tracing along your jaw. “god…you really are relentless,” he huffs, voice low, teasing but strained.

you grin, smirking up at him. “can you blame me?” his chest rises with a laugh. "hmm…nope,” he murmurs, lips grazing your temple. “not at all. and I think…I like it.” you trace over his shoulders, leaning closer, feeling the weight of him, the warmth, the lingering tension.

“good,” you whisper. “because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

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you've got your arms crossed, refusing to look at him. holding your ground even after you internally acknowledged that, yeah, maybe giving cheol the silent treatment and the cold shoulder earlier was a liiiittle dramatic. but he was on his stupid work ipad for like the whole time you two were supposed to be enjoying a movie night together in the living room—you had your reasons.

“cheol, i said I’m not apologising," you repeated, still in your mood.

seungcheol exhales through his nose deeply, still looking at you with a look that's fond even if you're giving him high blood pressure right now. he's leaning against the kitchen counter after you stomped off to the kitchen and are now doing everything in your power to not look at him.

he attempted to reason with your snappy attitude, “baby, i just checked a few emails. i promise."

you rolled your eyes as you turned to him, making him fight letting out a small cocky chuckle. "you were on your ipad for the whole second half of the movie!" you answered back.

he reaches out and catches your waist when you try to walk past him with a soft and firm, "hey."

“let go. i don't wanna talk to you," you try to wriggle out of his grip and fail. keeping your head low so you don't make eye contact with your unfairly handsome and super annoying boyfriend.

obviously he doesn’t. he knows you too well to actually listen to whatever comes out of your mouth when you're like this. "wanna tell me why you're acting up like this, baby?" he says, so gently and patiently.

“i'm not acting up like anything,” you shoot back, chin tilting up, your glare meeting his gaze. “you're just-"

“i'm just what?” he continues, one eyebrow lifting.

you soften, head dipping low again after his eyes stare holes into yours. "you're being annoying..." you say quietly.

his hand slides from your wrist to your chin, tilting your face properly toward him this time. “mhm,” the hum rumbles through him lowly.

your stomach flips a little, but you stay defending your stance.

he huffs out a soft laugh, “stubborn girl,” he mutters, almost to himself as he taps your bottom lip lightly with the pad of his thumb.

you open your mouth to argue again but this time he leans in just slightly to interrupt you, “baby, don't push it,” eyes locked on yours. “i've been letting you pout and give me the silent treatment for over half an hour now."

you swallow but your pride’s still there. “so?” as you cross your arms over your chest.

“so,” he murmurs, "you either tell me what's actually got you wound up like this... or i'll make you feel very, very good until you forget it. hm?"

your breath stutters while you're still trying to look unimpressed. he smiles because he caught that. slow and knowing.

and he leans down, kissing your forehead sweetly as if he didn't just say that, and you could still feel that smug smile he had. "i swear, baby," he kisses your forehead again, "that i only checked a couple of emails," and he pulls back to look at you properly.

"but you're right. it could've waited til after, or tomorrow morning, hm?" his thumb brushed your cheek once. seungcheol tilts your face up a little more so he can kiss the corner of your lips gently, "'m sorry, pretty girl. my fault, i know it is."

and you go completely weak. how could you not?

you melt into him a little more, not fighting him as much as he kisses the attitude out of you.

"next time, talk to me. okay, baby?" he says between kisses to your lips. "want you to tell me when you feel upset. you hear me?" his warm hands now holding your waist like you're the most precious thing in the world while his series of i'm sorry kisses continued.

you nod at his words, and he smiles, kissing you again. "there's my good girl. i love you so much, baby."

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‼️ as of right now, all my works can be found in the last tag which is #coupsiessswrites bc i have not made a masterpost/masterlist yet so if you'd like to check out anything else i've written it's under that tag 😆😆

You lie on your back, hands resting stiffly at your sides. The bed feels too big. The room feels too loud even though nothing is happening. Your lungs fill and empty, but the rhythm is off, like your body has forgotten how this is supposed to work.

Your fingers twitch against the sheet.

Mingyu is sitting beside you, leaning back against the headboard. He is scrolling through his phone without really looking at it, the screen lighting his face in brief flashes. The moment your breathing changes, he notices. He always does. The phone is set aside quietly, his attention shifting fully to you.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and careful. “You okay?”

You nod because it is easier than explaining. Because you are not fully panicking, not yet, and putting words to the feeling might push you there. Your jaw tightens instead. Your hands curl into the fabric beneath you.

Mingyu watches you for another moment, eyes soft and focused. He does not rush you. He does not ask again. He simply stays close, close enough that you can feel his presence without him touching you yet.

When you finally speak, your voice is quiet.

“Can you lie on me?”

He stills completely. “Yeah,” he says right away. Then he adds, slower this time, “Tell me where.”

You swallow. You lift one hand and press it lightly against your upper chest, just below your collarbone. “Not all the way. Just here. I do not want your full weight.”

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I have you.”

He moves with care, shifting closer inch by inch like he is making sure your body agrees before he does anything else. He turns onto his side first, bracing himself with one arm. When he leans in, it is slow and deliberate, his chest coming to rest against the top of yours.

His face settles gently against your upper chest, cheek warm against your skin. You feel his breath there, steady and calm. One arm drapes over your side, heavy enough to ground you, loose enough that you do not feel trapped. The rest of his weight stays supported by his elbow and hip, offered to you instead of pressed into you.

You let out a breath you did not realize you were holding.

The pressure helps almost immediately. Not in a dramatic way, not like everything suddenly becomes okay, but in the way your shoulders drop a little and your breathing stutters less. Your body reacts before your thoughts can catch up.

Mingyu exhales against your chest, slow and deep. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, still faster than normal, but steady. You know he can hear it too. He does not comment on it. He simply stays where he is.

“I am right here,” he whispers. “You are safe.”

Your fingers loosen slowly, unclenching one by one. The buzzing in your head does not disappear, but it dulls. Your thoughts become less sharp, less urgent. The room feels quieter, even though nothing has changed.

You rest your chin lightly against the top of his head. His hair brushes your skin, soft and familiar.

He adjusts slightly, careful not to put pressure on your ribs or your neck. Every movement feels considered, like he is constantly checking in without making you answer out loud.

“Breathe with me,” he says softly.

He does not count. He just breathes in a way that is easy to follow. You match him without thinking, your chest rising and falling beneath his cheek. Each breath feels a little less forced than the last.

Time stretches. Minutes pass without you noticing. The ceiling fan continues its uneven hum, but it no longer drills into your skull. Your heart slows gradually, the frantic edge fading until it is only a steady rhythm beneath his ear.

Mingyu does not move, even when his arm must be getting tired. He stays, solid and patient, like this is exactly where he wants to be. Like nothing else matters more than keeping you grounded.

The anxiety does not leave completely. It rarely does. There is still a faint tension curled somewhere deep in your chest, a reminder that this feeling might return later. But right now, it is manageable. Right now, you can exist inside your body without wanting to escape it.

“I think it is getting better,” you whisper eventually.

He hums softly, relief tucked into the sound. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He stays a moment longer anyway, as if making sure. When he finally shifts, it is only slightly, lifting some of his weight while keeping contact. His face remains near your collarbone. His arm stays draped across your side, still warm and grounding.

You lift your hand and slide your fingers into his hair.

It is an unconscious motion, something you have done a hundred times before. Your fingers rake gently through the soft strands, ruffling them in a way that makes him sigh. The sound is quiet and content, vibrating against your chest.

“You are doing good,” you murmur, sleep already creeping into your voice.

He lets out a soft laugh. “So are you.”

Your hand slows, fingertips tracing lazy patterns through his hair. His breathing evens out again, matching yours without effort. The warmth between you deepens, turning heavy and comforting.

Your eyelids start to droop. The tension in your body melts into the mattress, supported by his presence. The anxiety lingers at the edges, but it no longer feels overwhelming.

Mingyu settles in fully, careful to keep his weight exactly where you asked for it. His face rests against your chest, his arm secure around your side. He does not say anything else. He does not need to.

The last thing you feel is the steady rise and fall of his breathing and you hear the quiet rhythm of his heart beneath your hand.

Today, as sunlight floods through the vast windows of his office, Seungcheol stands facing the cityscape, a cup of coffee cradled in his hand, utterly oblivious to the seismic shift that will take place over the course of the day, irrevocably upsetting the control he fiercely maintains.

Barely at the age of 30, Choi Seungcheol has scaled the highest peak of corporate ambition that most only dream of. It's almost impossible to fathom that he began his journey as a humble, low-level assistant at just twenty. No inherited wealth, no well-connected patrons, no shortcuts. Just an indomitable work ethic and a visionary blaze burning behind his piercing gaze. His ascent wasn't facilitated by a silver spoon; every rung of the ladder was hard-won through sheer tenacity and sleepless nights.

Now in his second year as CEO, his leadership is unassailable within the company walls. Success isn't about age; it's about results, and under Seungcheol's guidance, every project is launched with flawless execution, consistently shattering expectations and redefining industry standards. His name resonates through boardrooms across the city: the young prodigy, the game-changer, the man who doesn't merely play by the rules, but writes them.

Perhaps the most admirable, or intimidating-aspect of Seungcheol's persona is his unflappable demeanor amidst chaos. He doesn't simply make decisions; he makes the right ones, at lightning speed. He observes, he listens, he rarely interrupts, and when he does speak, the room hangs on his every word.

Turning from the window now, he places his coffee on the desk just as his secretary's double tap echoes on the door.

"Come in," he states coolly, buttoning his suit jacket.

In a world where soulmates are an established fact of existence, love is less an exploration and more of a certainty. The rule is quite simple. Once you meet your soulmate, a mere glance into their eyes and wedding bells will sound. Not metaphorically, mind you, but literally, chiming in your ears like a secret celebration just for the two of you. And after that, everything seems to align effortlessly, as though the universe has bestowed upon you a perfectly wrapped ending: the soulmates meet, fall in love, and live blissfully ever after.

Or, rather… everyone except Choi Seungcheol.

His friends, his inner circle are all married, knee-deep in wedding arrangements, or sending him chirpy photos of their toddlers with captions like, "Uncle Cheol, when is it your turn?". The world is marching forward at a breakneck pace, and for Seungcheol, who has always been a swift learner, this is the only race he seems incapable of winning.

He's not a solitary man by choice; he simply refuses to risk his emotions. After all, ex-partners and soulmates don't make for compatible unions.

What if he falls for someone who isn't the one? Or what if he heartbreaks someone, only to meet his destined match later, and everything crumbles? Thus, he avoids flirtations, avoids love, avoids anything that could disrupt the equilibrium of his carefully constructed life.

Yet, despite his best efforts, a creeping sense of anxiety lingers. His concern isn't rooted in the prospect of an overdue wedding; it's his parents that weigh heavily on his mind.

At twenty-seven, his mother had arranged a blind date with the daughter of a colleague. Seungcheol, in an act of familial obligation, attended the meeting, only to leave with a debilitating headache.

At twenty-eight, his father had taken to mailing out well-articulated resumes of his son to families with eligible daughters, essentially marketing him like a limited-edition luxury item.

By the age of twenty-nine, the charade had dropped, and an arranged marriage was openly discussed. "Just meet her," they urged, "see if the bells ring." They never did.

Now, at thirty, Seungcheol has no idea what scheme his parents are concocting, but he's certain it won't end well.

And what can he do?

Absolutely nothing.

So, as always, he defaults to the familiar, the reliable: wake up. Go to the office. Attend meetings. Review reports. Sign documents. Go home. Sleep.

It's safe. It's predictable. It's efficient.

It's just another Monday. The familiar rhythm of incoming emails and the distant hum of ringing phones fills the air when Seungcheol's secretary taps twice before entering, her arms laden with stacked files. She places them on his desk without a word initially, as he scans the final few pages of a document. But then, a rare announcement breaks the silence.

"Mr. Shin from Jeonghwa Group has sent an invitation. It's for a masquerade party," she states, her voice laced with professional respect.

"His wife is hosting. They are requesting your presence."

The name elicits a surprised pause from Seungcheol, his gaze lifting from the page. "…Mr. Shin?"

She nods. "Yes. He personally extended the invitation to you."

Choi Seungcheol's eyes widen briefly before he leans back in his chair. Mr. Shin isn't merely an acquaintance; he's a seasoned veteran of the business world, one of the few individuals Seungcheol admired when he first stepped foot into the corporate jungle at twenty.

Sharp, composed, yet possessing a warmth that radiated outwards, Mr. Shin had once told him over lunch. "Success is vital, but it's relationships that will ultimately propel you further than any numbers can."

Unfortunately, the latter had never truly resonated with Seungcheol. He's never been one for social gatherings. In his mind, they disrupt efficiency, forcing him into hours of tedious small talk, standing under ornate chandeliers while sipping on drinks he doesn't particularly enjoy. He doesn't dislike people; he simply prefers order.

But this invitation is an exception. Coming from Mr. Shin, it cannot be dismissed. Refusal would convey an unwelcome message, and disappointing both Mr. Shin and his wife is simply out of the question.

A faint sigh escapes his lips.

"…Inform them that I will attend." He says, a subtle frown etching itself between his brows. "Clear the schedule for that night. If there are any scheduling conflicts, reschedule them. And arrange for some shopping time. Something formal, like a masked attire."

"Understood." His secretary replies with a small smile, already making notes on her tablet as she turns to depart.

The door clicks shut behind her, and the office falls back into silence. Seungcheol remains seated for a moment longer, his gaze unfocused on the documents before him. Slowly, he removes his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh.

"A masquerade party, hmm…" He muses.

The night of the masquerade arrived, stars sowed across a velvet sky with the city glittering beneath them like a scattered hoard of precious stones. A black car belonging to Seungcheol slid to a stop at the foot of an imposing mansion on the edge of town, the Shin family's place, renowned for only opening its doors to those who mattered.

From the moment Seungcheol stepped through the grand doors, he felt transported into another world.

The grand entrance hall with its high arched ceilings gilded with fine filigree and sparkling crystal chandeliers that illuminated the polished marble floors seemed to stretch for miles. Beautiful flower arrangements that scented the air with delicate orchids and lilies were arranged in glass vases along the walls, and elegantly uniformed staff glided silently by with trays of champagne and wine, offering glasses that winked like those of the guests.

The guests themselves, masked in elaborate creations and draped in sophisticated suits and flowing evening gowns, laughed and mingled in the softly lit hall, the polite murmur of their conversation punctuated by the clink of glasses. Everywhere he looked, movement and elegance danced beneath the golden glow.

An orchestra at the far end of the ballroom played a waltz so soft and enchanting, it felt like it flowed through the evening like silk. The gentle harmonies of the violins intertwined with the lower notes of the cellos as couples twirled and swayed on the dance floor, their shadows long and elegant.

Seungcheol lingered at the entrance for a beat, absorbing the opulent scene. He wore a deep charcoal tuxedo, a simple, sleek brushed silver mask that perfectly fit his face. Much like him. He smoothed the cuffs of his jacket with precise fingers and let out a quiet sigh.

He made his way through the great hall, the light shuffle of his dress shoes muffled by the music and lively chatter. His eyes scanned the crowd, seeking out the one figure he had come to see. Near the center of the room, he saw Mr. Shin, his distinguished navy suit highlighted by silver embroidery along the collar. By his side, equally resplendent, stood Mrs. Shin, her mask festooned with pearls that sparkled with every turn of her head.

Adjusting his mask slightly, Seungcheol approached them, bowing his head with quiet respect.

"Mr. Shin, Mrs. Shin," he began smoothly. "Thank you for the gracious invitation."

Mr. Shin turned, a delighted smile crinkling at the corners of his mask. "Seungcheol! I was starting to think you wouldn't make it. I'm very glad you're here."

Mrs. Shin gave a warm nod. "You look exceptionally handsome tonight, dear. As always."

"I couldn't possibly miss such an event, especially when extended by you both." He replied with a light, formal smile. "The venue is… remarkable."

They exchanged pleasantries, polite jokes and wry comments passing under the shimmering chandeliers. Seungcheol smiled and nodded, accepting a glass of champagne, but a subtle stiffness remained in his posture. And, as was inevitable, the conversation soon shifted back to what he knew best.

"Actually," He began, "just before we arrived here, we finalized the third branch's distribution proposal with-" he caught himself mid-sentence, but Mr. And Mrs. Shin simply exchanged a knowing look.

Mrs. Shin chuckled softly, tilting her head. "Oh, Seungcheol. You can talk about work all you wish if it makes you feel more at home. Masks are not required for that topic."

Her words, meant kindly, cut through his reserve with a sudden warmth. He let out a soft breath he hadn't realized he was holding. And he began to speak.

About the company, the numbers, the employees, the challenges.

Mr. Shin listened intently, offering sage advice, and Mrs. Shin's eyes glowed with a familiar, nurturing warmth. The air around them lightened, the laughter grew more genuine, and the knot of anxiety in Seungcheol's chest gradually began to unwind.

Mr. Shin placed a hand on Seungcheol's shoulder with a proud smile. "Seungcheol, there's someone I want you to meet. My daughter has just returned from her studies abroad. I think you and she will get on very well."

Seungcheol turned, and his eyes fell upon her. You stood a few feet away, draped in a gown the color of pale lavender mist, your silver mask edged with delicate lace and tipped with tiny feathers. You moved with the quiet elegance of someone used to hushed conversations and a world of privilege, your gaze scanning the room until it met his.

In that instant, the hum of conversation and music faded away, replaced by the crystal clear peal of wedding bells. The sound seemed to ring solely in his ears, the universe announcing that it had just struck the first note of a song that would change everything. They stared at each other for a breath too long, the question hanging unspoken between them.

He saw the subtle, knowing smile on Mrs. Shin's face.

The faint echo of bells lingered in his ears even as the normal symphony of the ballroom resumed. But for Seungcheol, time itself seemed to have warped, to have slowed. His soulmate.

He had finally found you.

The relief, the joy that should have flooded him… was there, but it was tempered by something else entirely. Fate, it seemed, was playing its own cruel game. You were twenty. Fresh, naive, just beginning to navigate the world.

Ten years his junior.

And you were the daughter of Mr. Shin, the man who had been a guiding light in his professional life for over a decade. The entire situation felt impossibly unreal, somehow forbidden. This couldn't be right.

Could it?

Just as he was forcing himself to focus, his gaze still locked on yours, Mr. Shin's voice cut through his thoughts, calm and composed. He reached out and gently touched your head as he spoke to you with an expression of fatherly affection.

"I'm looking to retire soon, of course, but before I do, I need to make sure she's ready for the challenges ahead."

He then turned to Seungcheol, his smile unwavering but his eyes sharp and determined. "I need someone to help guide her, Seungcheol. Someone with experience, someone I can trust implicitly within this industry, to… show her the ropes." He clapped a hand on Seungcheol's shoulder.

"Before I step down, Seungcheol… would you be willing to take her on? Perhaps for mentorship, or some hands-on training? No one learns better than through experience, after all."

The room suddenly felt stifling. Seungcheol's fingers tightened on his champagne glass, the smooth surface cool against his suddenly clammy skin. Not only had he just met his soulmate, he was now being asked to personally induct her into the very industry that had consumed ten years of his life, into the same cutthroat environment he had only recently learned to survive.

And she would be in his life every single day.

His soulmate, his mentor's daughter, his future trainee. His knees nearly buckled, but he offered a weak, polite smile and nodded, because what other choice did he have?

"... Of course, sir," He said, voice steady despite the quiet chaos behind it. "I'd be honored."

But in his mind, there was only one thought: this is going to be a problem.

As if sensing the moment had grown too full, Mr. And Mrs. Shin politely excused themselves to greet other guests, leaving Seungcheol standing face-to-face with the person who had just unknowingly disrupted the stability he had clung to for years, you.

He watched you for a second longer, trying to find the right words, or any words at all. You looked up at him too, unsure yet calm. Composed, despite the thunderous sound that only the two of you had heard. And then, gently, your voice slipped out from behind your mask.

"So... I guess we heard it." You said quietly, referring to the wedding bells.

Seungcheol let out a short breath, a dry chuckle escaping him. "Yeah. We did."

A pause hung between you. Heavy, but not uncomfortable, more like the silence that comes when something profound has settled in the space.

"I'm Choi Seungcheol," he said, dipping his head politely. "But I assume you already knew that."

You gave a polite little curtsy, unable to suppress a small smile. "And I'm Shin Y/N." You tilted your head a bit. That earned a faint, genuine smile from him.

The orchestra shifted to a softer tune, one that made the chandeliers shimmer with each drawn note. Around you, the world moved on. Guests swayed on the dance floor, laughter floated in waves-but between you and Seungcheol, the air remained still.

"I didn't expect this," he admitted. "Tonight, or... You."

You let out a small laugh. "You mean you didn't expect your soulmate to be twenty years old?"

His eyes widened a little, surprised by your boldness, before he shook his head slowly with the ghost of amusement on his face. "Was I that obvious?"

"Just a little," you teased. "But it's alright. I didn't expect my soulmate to be someone my parents literally worship either. So I think we're even."

He looked at you, really looked, and saw more than just his senior's daughter. He saw someone with her own mind, her own spark. Not just someone being pushed into his world, but someone who could make space in it.

"If this gets overwhelming," He said suddenly, voice a little softer, a little more real, "just say so. I won't rush into anything. I know this is... A lot."

You raised a brow, your gaze gentle. "Why do you sound like you're the one overwhelmed?"

He paused, as if your words peeled away a layer of him.

"... Because I've spent years building a life I could control." He said quietly.

You smiled behind your mask. "Then maybe I'm here to teach you how to let go. Just a little."

That caught him off guard. A breath of silence passed... And then, he laughed, low and genuine, maybe for the first time all week.

"...I think you might be." he murmured. And just like that, under the soft music, crystal chandeliers, and masks that hid just enough but revealed just as much. The world had quietly started to change for Choi Seungcheol.

The next day arrived with polished shoes, pressed suits, and a strangely quickened heartbeat that Seungcheol couldn't quite explain, not until his office door was knocked on, sharp and polite.

His secretary peeked in with a gentle smile, then stepped aside. "Young Miss Shin has arrived, sir." And then you stepped in behind her.

For a moment, just a moment, Choi Seungcheol forgot how to breathe.

At the masquerade, your mask had hidden part of your face, letting only your voice and eyes do the talking. But now, standing there in the light of his office, dressed professionally yet effortlessly graceful, you looked nothing short of a princess sent straight from a fairytale.

Your features were delicate, your posture refined, and your smile-

God, that smile.

You bowed deeply, a full 90-degree gesture of respect. "It's an honor to work under you, Mr. Choi."

That broke something in him, just for a second. He almost gulped, throat tightening as he tried to suppress the warmth crawling up his neck. His jaw clenched lightly, keeping his face composed as always, but his eyes... His eyes betrayed him for a heartbeat too long.

His soulmate was bowing to him like a subordinate, like he wasn't losing his grip on the damn air in the room.

"Thank you," He managed, his voice still firm but quieter than usual. "you may begin today."

He cleared his throat and quickly looked away, standing up and adjusting his cufflinks just to buy time.

"You may return to your tasks." He told his secretary, who gave a small nod and closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just the two of you. The air shifted again. Quiet, but not cold, just full. You stepped forward softly, hands tucked behind your back, walking with a quiet elegance that echoed across the floor of his office. You stopped just short of his desk, leaned forward a little, and smiled.

"I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi."

His heart skipped a full beat. He blinked once, then twice. He internally cursed himself for how fast his chest reacted, how your presence so effortlessly chipped away at the steel mask he had worn for years.

"... Don't get too comfortable." He muttered under his breath, turning slightly away as he pretended to check something on his desk.

He picked up a pen, but forgot what document it was for. Clearing his throat again, he motioned for you to sit on the chair in front of his desk.

"Take out a pen and a notebook." He said briskly, avoiding your eyes. "If you want to be the next CEO of your father's company, you'll need to start by remembering a few things."

Still smiling, you sat down and pulled out your notebook obediently.

"Rule number one," He continued, finally looking at you again, but carefully now, like one wrong glance would unravel him. "no one cares about your title. Earn their respect with competence, not your last name."

You nodded, scribbling it down.

"Rule two," He said, watching the way your hair fell slightly as you wrote. "always know more than you speak. And listen more than you think."

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze and softly replied, "That sounds exactly like you, Mr. Choi."

His pen almost slipped from his hand. He coughed once more, this time trying to suppress the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Rule three," He said sharply, eyes back on your notebook. "Stop charming your mentor. It's distracting."

You giggled, quiet, warm, and knowing.

He didn't say it out loud, but deep down, he already knew that this was going to be a long, dangerous, beautiful mentorship.

The first few hours of your mentorship under Choi Seungcheol moved swiftly, on the surface. He'd given his instructions to you precisely, his tone as professional as always as he guided you through the departments, introduced you to the key team members and showed you what made his company tick like a well-oiled machine. To the outside world, it was just another day of perfection from the CEO.

But those who worked under him, those sharp-eyed individuals who were perpetually silent but constantly observant, noticed the shift in their boss. It wasn't obvious. No forced smiles stretched to the limit of his features, no elaborate gestures were made. Instead, it was the almost unnoticeable lean of his body when he spoke to you. It was the minute drop in tone whenever he said your name. It was the linger of his gaze on you whenever he'd thought you weren't looking. And most obviously, the soft, unnervingly gentle expression in his eyes when he'd watched you jot down notes or cock your head.

To them, Choi Seungcheol was… different.

But in his own mind, he was anything but. He was just doing what he was supposed to do. What Mr. Shin had tasked him with. To guide you, to educate you, to show you the ropes. Then why did standing beside you feel like the only moment his lungs could breathe in air that wasn't suffocating him? Every time you walked with him and your arm brushed his, his chest would ache with a sense of release, as though the pressure he'd unknowingly been carrying for years was finally, infinitesimally lifting.

It must be the soulmate bond, he told himself, dismissing the sudden weightlessness that seemed to blossom in his chest. There was no other explanation. Still, even he couldn't explain the strange calm you exuded whenever the silence settled between them. Your presence was silent, yet it somehow grounded him, its quiet aura an alien but soothing balm to his constant anxiety.

For a man like Choi Seungcheol, someone who lived and breathed pressure, your calmness was entirely unfamiliar… and almost terrifying. Not in a threatening way, but in a foreign, "what is this emotion and how do I function with it?" way.

He was in the process of explaining the operational hierarchy of his company to you when his attention faltered as he saw you look up at him. Your eyes were unwavering, soft and laced with what seemed like unwavering respect and trust. He felt a blank come over his mind, a sudden loss of consciousness in regards to what he was trying to say.

"…And that department handles the…" He paused, staring at the company floorplan on the wall as though it had personally wronged him. "…um… the logistics team?" you finished, tilting your head questioningly.

He cleared his throat, nodding once. "Right. The logistics team."

His voice, though returning to its usual cadence, was tinged with the panic screaming inside him.

Thankfully, a knock on his office door saved him. His secretary, Eunhee, peeked her head around the corner.

"Sir, your meeting starts in fifteen minutes."

A lifesaver.

"Right. Thank you." He quickly replied, straightening his posture. He turned to you, his voice crisp but not unkind. "I need to prepare. Eunhee will show you the rest of the office when she gets back."

You nodded politely.

"Of course, Mr. Choi."

He walked out, perhaps a tad too quickly, and closed his office door, locking it as he entered. A deep exhale escaped him as he slumped against his desk, raking a hand through his hair before glaring at a spot on the wall and muttering to himself.

"…Wake up, Choi Seungcheol."

He then glanced at his reflection in the dark computer screen, grimacing before opening his meeting files.

The meeting room was quiet and impeccably furnished, filled with executives from all department heads seated around a long, polished conference table. A finance officer stood at the head of the room, presenting their quarterly projections. Charts and graphs flashed on a large screen at the back.

From the outside, Choi Seungcheol appeared completely himself, dressed in a tailored suit, eyes sharp and gaze steady, a calm demeanor at the front of the room.

However, his hand revealed a telltale sign.

It tapped rhythmically on the tabletop before settling into a silent spin. His silver pen twirled continuously between his fingers, an unconscious habit as smooth and effortless as breathing. It was precise, yes, but it wasn't a reflection of his focus. His eyes remained fixed on the projected slides, but his mind was miles away from the sterile room and the droning financial reports.

It was stuck in a hallway. A hallway filled with your soft footsteps, your voice resonating in his memory as you had tilted your head with that innocent smile and said, "I wish for a happy time working with you, Mr. Choi."

His heart rate quickened again.

He discreetly loosened the top button of his shirt, feeling an unnecessary warmth creep up his neck. Get a grip, Seungcheol. Someone directed a question his way, and he answered automatically, his response professionally brief and to the point, only a fraction of a second too slow to warrant suspicion. The pen began to spin again, faster this time.

Why was this happening to him?

He had dealt with crises, negotiated multi-million-dollar deals, and turned around entire struggling companies. He'd faced entire boardrooms filled with foreign investors and even hostile government officials. Yet here he was, playing with a pen like a naive intern, utterly preoccupied with the memory of a girl with eyes like calm waters and a presence that somehow quieted the relentless buzz of his life. Not in a vacant way, but in a peaceful way. And Seungcheol was unfamiliar with this feeling… it was almost terrifying.

"Mr. Choi?"

A voice called out, snapping him back to reality.

"Yes?"

He replied, blinking as his gaze returned to the room. All eyes turned towards him. He cleared his throat and nodded slowly. "I agree with the previous point. Let's move forward with scenario B, but include a contingency plan for any potential client-side delays. I will review the schedule proposal by Friday."

The department heads nodded in agreement. The meeting continued, but the pen in Choi Seungcheol's hand continued to spin, and under the table, his leg bounced imperceptibly. He didn't even realize the faint smile that touched his lips.

The meeting concluded without any apparent incident. Executives began to file out, discussing the next steps. Choi Seungcheol lingered for a few moments longer than usual, pretending to examine the printed schedule but his eyes glossing over the lines. When he finally rose, he adjusted his suit jacket, offered a perfunctory nod to his assistant, and walked back to his office.

The corridor remained as it had always been, then he opened his office door, and you were sitting in the guest chair opposite his desk, notebook on your lap, looking up with that disarming smile that had single handedly derailed his focus for the last two hours.

"Oh," You said softly, "Welcome back, Mr. Choi."

He hesitated for a mere fraction of a second before walking in and closing the door.

"Did Eunhee bring you here?"

"She did." You answered, standing as a gesture of politeness. "I didn't want to be in your office without you."

Choi Seungcheol's jaw tightened minutely.

Without me, huh?

He ambled around the desk before sitting down in his own chair, acting as though he hadn't even noticed how your presence seemed to somehow alter the room. He put down the stack of notes, never looking at them. You remained standing at the edge of the desk still holding your notebook, waiting patiently-as always-and in complete control.

God, he hated how that made him so uncomfortable.

"Did you find the rest of the office tour informative?" he finally looked up, his eyes finally finding yours. You nodded, and once again you approached his desk smoothly and calmly. "Yes, everyone was nice, but..."

You paused for a breath before cocking your head with a smirk. "It was a little dull without you."

His pen bounced once across the surface of his desk when his fingers spasmed, his hand flying to them instinctively. You added hastily, "I mean you explain things better, of course. That's all."

"...Right." He breathed, clearing his throat, his gaze flicking sideways once more before fixing back on your face.

"Shall we resume from where we left off? Take a seat."

You sat down readily, a slight smile playing at your lips as you reopened your notebook.

Seungcheol fought himself, to not let himself look up; to not pay attention to the way your nose crinkled slightly when you considered an idea, not to the soft floral scent of your perfume that somehow made its way between the pages of your notebook, and not to your utterly innocent expression.

His words, however, couldn't hide anything as he explained corporate hierarchy and strategic positioning to you with a softer, lighter tone. He wasn't sure when it had started. He only knew that it's never sounded like that until now.

The sun was setting lower, the light of the sun painting streaks of gold across the tall buildings outside of his office. As time drew to an end for the day, his colleagues began to file out, flicking off lights one by one before wishing each other a good night. He was tidying up the last few remaining pieces on his desk when you called out his name.

"Mr. Choi?" You stood there, bag already slung across your shoulder. "I think my driver forgot to come for me. I tried calling but… nothing."

He instantly looked up from what he was doing, his brows furrowing together in concern.

"Did your father not send someone for you?"

you shook your head, looking slightly more bothered now than before. "Both of my parents are working extra today, and so is the housekeeper. I can just wait; it's alright. I'll figure something out."

He stared at you for a second more before the instinct kicked in, and he reached for his phone. Dialing Mr. Shin with a practised speed, he spoke.

"Mr. Shin," His voice was professional as always. "this is Seungcheol. I was just calling to ask whether I should arrange one of my drivers to drop Y/N-"

"Why aren't you bringing my daughter home?" Mr. Shin's voice boomed over the phone, amused. "You know my place; I'm sure my daughter trusts you."

His brain short-circuited.

"I- uh…" He stammered, his voice cracking a little.

"Yes, Mr. Shin. Of course. If that's what you prefer."

"You'll be fine." Mr. Shin chirped. "Good luck!"

And with that, he promptly hung up.

The silence that descended upon his office was suddenly, jarringly deafening. Seungcheol lowered his phone slowly, blinking at the black screen as if it had just betrayed him.

"So?" Your voice chimed in again, a light touch on the doorway this time. "What did he say?"

Seungcheol let out a sigh, head tilting back for a moment towards the ceiling as a soft groan of defeat escaped his lips. He looked at you, one brow lifted.

"Pack up your things," He grumbled, already reaching for his jacket. "we're leaving. I'll drive you home."

A delighted hum filled the air as you scurried to keep pace, your bag swinging as he flicked off the office light. They stepped into the elevator, the air still and peaceful but his heart racing just a little bit faster, and it wasn't with the burden of responsibility but because he was beside you again, heading towards the kind of quiet that wasn't so uncomfortable anymore.

This day was rapidly going off script, and they hadn't even gotten into the car yet.

The ride was a quiet, almost suffocating affair. You sat beside him, hands resting delicately in your lap, bag at your feet. He sat in the driver's seat, and he couldn't stop fiddling with the rearview mirror, not because it needed fixing, but just so he didn't have to look at you.

This was… new. His soulmate sitting next to him in his car, in his personal space, which had previously always been an area designated solely for contemplation or solitude. Now? It felt almost as if you were too close for comfort, too warm.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter when you finally spoke, your voice soft and playful.

"You don't talk a lot when you drive, do you?" His knuckles turned white.

"I'm focused."

"On not getting us killed, or on avoiding looking at me?"

You teased, and his jaw tightened. Your voice… It was light, melodic, like music that effortlessly settled into the rhythm of the quiet car, wrapping around him with a delicate pressure.

He prayed that the light ahead wouldn't stay red for too long; he could practically feel himself melting into the seat. And then, you added it. "Just so you know, I didn't get a chance to ask… is it okay that I'm here? In the front?"

He felt his throat tighten.

"It's fine," He managed, his gaze glued to the road. "you're my passenger."

But you were so much more than just his passenger, you were his soulmate, and you looked at him as if you could read his very thoughts. He was holding it all together by a thread, his grip on the steering wheel never eased, his heart hammering against his ribs in a dangerous rhythm.

He had no idea what expression graced your face, not until you touched him. It was just a gentle brush of your fingertips across his knuckles, perhaps intended to reassure him. But the electric current that shot through his entire arm? The warmth that seeped into his skin, soothing the wild chaos within him? It was too much. His heart stuttered, and he almost crashed.

"-Shit!"

He swore under his breath as the car drifted slightly to the left. A loud honk blared in their direction. Seungcheol reacted instantly, wrenching the steering wheel to the right, crossing momentarily into an empty lane before easing the car onto the side of the road, coming to a halt with a tremor.

He let out a heavy breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. His hands still on the steering wheel, eyes wide, jaw clenched, and adrenaline surging through his veins. Beside him, you were laughing full out, unapologetic laughter that shook your shoulders.

"Y-You almost…!" You giggled between bursts of laughter, "… crashed because I touched your hand? Seriously?"

He should have been embarrassed, or even angry. Instead, a slow smile spread across his lips as he leaned back into his seat, the tension seeping from his muscles.

"You're dangerous," He murmured, half-exasperated, half-amused. "way too dangerous."

You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, your chest still heaving slightly.

"I'm sorry! I really didn't expect that."

He tutted, a small chuckle finally escaping him. "Don't touch me while I'm driving, or you might not just 'almost' crash next time."

You playfully put a hand over your heart. "Understood, sir. No touching the CEO."

With one last lingering look and a sigh that hid a small smile, he turned the engine back on. The rest of the drive was quiet once again, but this silence was different; it was filled with a quiet warmth.

The next day, Choi Seungcheol showed up at the office ten minutes earlier than usual. Hair perfectly in place, tie neatly knotted, suit immaculately pressed. He had a plan already drawn up in his head.

Today, he told himself, would be different. No distractions. He would remain calm, professional, detached, even. He was a CEO, after all. Not a gawky college student with a crush on the lab assistant.

And then, you walked in. Just as tranquil as ever, a soft aura woven into your every movement. A polite bow, a genuine smile that crinkled your eyes, and then your gaze met his across the hallway.

Your smile widened, and he blinked once.

Not today, he reminded himself, adjusting his cuffs. Stay focused, Choi Seungcheol.

You followed him into his office, as you usually did. Placing your notebook on the desk with an audible snap of paper. "Good morning, Mr. Choi."

Your voice was still the same soothing honey you'd used yesterday. He suppressed a sudden, unwarranted jump in his pulse and gave a tight nod. "Morning, let's go over the schedule."

He promptly turned his back, eager to avoid the potential for getting caught looking. But you weren't done yet. You tilted your head, a playful curiosity in your eyes. "You sleep okay after yesterday's near-death experience?"

He froze.

Teasing, again. His jaw tightened and he let out a soft snort.

"It wasn't 'near-death'."

"It was close enough." You chirped, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "I thought you were about to start writing your will in that parking lane."

He slowly closed his laptop, his eyes meeting yours again. "Are we done?"

You grinned, a spark in your gaze. "Maybe."

He clicked his pen twice. The rhythm, a frantic attempt to maintain composure and push away the lingering echo of your laughter from the day before.

"Right," He mumbled, clearing his throat. "let's move onto today's shadowing."

You, however, had your own agenda. You stayed nearby, not touching, not overtly suggestive, just present. You asked astute questions, tilted your head when listening, your gaze fixed on him with a gentle admiration he couldn't ignore.

Your voice… still that syrupy sweetness. Your tone… still respectfully deferential, but never dull. He felt himself slowly sinking, and he knew with absolute certainty you were aware of it. You were actively doing it.

He tried to keep distance, telling you to observe from the corner during a department meeting. You did, and afterward, you thanked him, calling his approach "insightful and clean-cut.". He asked you to grab him coffee, hoping you'd take a break and leave.

You returned ten minutes later, holding a second cup—his favorite, inexplicably.

He stared at you, dumbfounded.

"How did you know that's what I drink?"

You tilted your head, a tiny smile playing on your lips. "You mentioned it once. I remembered."

He said nothing, simply took the cup, the warmth spreading through his hand doing little to mask the fire in his chest.

By lunchtime, he was cornered, mentally and emotionally. You peeked into his office again after a brief team session, hands clasped behind your back like a child with a secret.

"I've organized the budget review files. Would you like me to bring them now, Mr. Choi?"

He managed a nod.

"Yes, please."

You entered, but instead of dropping them on his desk, you approached, slow and deliberate, setting the stack beside him, leaning just a bit closer.

Then, you whispered, your voice like silk. "You're doing really great, you know."

He turned his head so quickly he nearly wrenched his neck. You stepped back instantly, that same sweet expression plastered on your face.

"Just thought someone should let you know."

He gaped at you, utterly caught off guard. You offered another bright smile.

"I'll head back to my desk now."

With that, you turned and walked away, as if you hadn't just sent his heart ricocheting off his ribs. He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand over his face, mumbling under his breath.

"…I'm doomed."

Per Mr. Shin's previous request, Seungcheol knew that in order to properly mentor you, you would need to start attending some internal meetings—the important ones. This meeting definitely qualified.

As soon as the conference room doors closed, the air was thick with anticipation.

You sat next to him, with his secretary a seat over, while on the other side of the long glass table, the team from the opposing company were impeccably dressed, utterly clueless, and woefully out of touch. The presentation was… passable, at first. Clean numbers and stable projections, but the moment they reached the slide titled "Strategic Timeline for Implementation", things took a turn.

Seungcheol's eyes narrowed.

The speaker blathered on, droning about outdated strategies and collaborations with partners Seungcheol had long since identified as liabilities. Slowly, deliberately, Seungcheol raised a hand.

"Hold it."

The speaker faltered, mid-sentence. Seungcheol gestured towards the screen. "This part. You need to rethink this strategy. We've already seen volatility in those markets. Associating with them puts the entire project at risk."

The man at the other end of the table offered a strained smile. "We appreciate your concern, Mr. Choi, but altering the current timeline could potentially strain our relationship with the local representatives. It could send the wrong signal."

Seungcheol's expression hardened. "I said it needs to change."

The tension in the room tightened perceptibly. His voice remained steady, but the undercurrent was a clear, unmistakable threat. Even his secretary lowered her eyes. You watched him, the veins in his hand bulging, his knuckles turning white against the glass table. His posture was rigid, his jaw set as he fought back the fury building within him.

You hesitated. You'd never seen him this serious before, this cold, so unyieldingly… himself. But something inside you… stirred.

He's your boss, and yes, you're a little scared, but you couldn't let him get consumed by the storm he was desperately containing. So, gently, almost imperceptibly to anyone else, you reached beneath the table and touched his clenched knuckles. The tension in his hand evaporated instantly.

He didn't flinch, didn't even glance your way, but he felt it, a small, anchoring anchor in the chaos. His eyes returned to the presenter, his shoulders dropped ever so slightly, and then, calm, steady, dangerous, he spoke again.

"I said what are the cons of not changing. If you are unwilling to change," He began, his voice measured and chilling. "I can already predict your company's failure, and by extension, your company dragging mine down with it."

The room fell silent.

"Therefore," He continued, folding his hands neatly in front of him. "I suggest you revise it. Or I cease collaborating with you."

He leaned forward, his voice dropping a fraction. "This is not a negotiation, this is a statement."

A beat of utter silence. The opposing speaker swallowed hard, nodded almost imperceptibly. "Understood… We will revise it."

Seungcheol gave a single, satisfied nod.

"Good."

The remainder of the meeting was a breezy procession of acquiescence. Everyone seemed to have magically agreed to everything.

As it concluded, participants rose slowly, gathering their documents and attempting to feign normalcy. You remained seated, stealing a glance at him.

The moment the last guest left the office building and the massive oak doors to the meeting room slammed shut behind them, Seungcheol slumped in his chair, releasing a slow, deep exhale. Only then did his gaze shift to you, the only one remaining. It wasn't harsh or menacing, merely… aware.

"Thanks." He grunted, his voice barely a whisper.

You blinked. "For what?"

He paused, offering a small, dry smile before answering. "For stopping me from tipping that table over."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips. "Glad I could avert a lawsuit."

He laughed under his breath, running a hand through his tousled hair. "You're a sneaky one, you know that?"

You tilted your head, an innocent query playing on your features.

"Me? I just touched your hand."

"Exactly," he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours. "That's the problem."

The heavy oak doors to the meeting room sealing the tension that had permeated the air moments before into the confines of the room. Silence settled around the two of you, a welcome respite. Seungcheol still sat at the head of the table, the rigidity in his shoulders beginning to soften, the set of his jaw relaxing, but he remained seated, not yet ready to break the quiet.

He turned his gaze toward you, then it dropped to your hands. They lay folded gently in your lap, fingers loosely curled, relaxed. The same hands that had steadied him just minutes prior with a simple touch. His eyes held on to them for a beat too long, and you noticed.

A light giggle bubbled up from your chest, making his head snap back toward you with a startled expression, though the look on your face was purely fond. You scooted closer to his side, and without hesitation or question, reached out and gently cupped his hands in both of yours. Your palms were warm, your hold not weak but firm and secure, as if you were anchoring him.

At first, he stiffened, unaccustomed to being held in such a way. But when he looked up and met your eyes, something in him seemed to thaw, like a small, crack in a dam. You smiled, a sweet, reassuring curve of your lips, and spoke with a calmness he'd rarely heard.

"Hold onto mine if you want. I'm always here beside you."

The words weren't shouted; they weren't dramatic. But they hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt a catch in his throat, a hesitation in his usually decisive fingers before they slowly, tentatively, curled around yours. The tight pressure in his chest eased, the jagged edges of his thoughts softened, replaced by the quiet warmth that seeped into his bloodstream, driving out the residual frustration and anger.

It felt dangerous, it felt addictive, but most of all, it felt right. He couldn't speak, his gaze locked on yours, mesmerized. You simply smiled back, as if time had stretched out before you, allowing you to patiently wait for him to catch his breath.

And eventually, he did.

"... You're trouble." He whispered, his lips barely moving. You laughed again, a soft, musical sound.

"You've told me that before."

He shook his head slowly. "Even more so now."

Still, he didn't let go.

The day had finally drawn to a close. One by one, the office lights blinked off, and employees filed out of the building, their voices dwindling as they departed.

Seungcheol grabbed his jacket and briefcase from his desk, preparing to head out, when his secretary intercepted him near the elevator.

"Mr. Choi," She announced with a small nod towards you, who stood near the main entrance, patiently waiting. "Ms. Y/N doesn't have a ride."

He blinked once, then again. His eyes flicked to you. You were engrossed in your phone, a soft, melodic hum accompanying your scrolling.

Just like yesterday… Suspicious.

Just then, you looked up, meeting his gaze with a cheerful smile. His suspicions immediately melted away into an exasperated sigh.

"... She's doing this on purpose." He muttered, loud enough for you to hear. Nonetheless, he gestured toward his car. "Let's go."

You fell in step beside him, your enthusiasm radiating even in the evening twilight. Once inside the car, you didn't miss a beat, making a beeline for the passenger seat and settling in as if it were your designated spot. Seungcheol got into the driver's seat and started the engine, pulling out onto the street.

The silence within the car returned, peaceful yet buzzing with a subtle energy. His focus was on the road, though he couldn't deny the distraction that was you.

Then your voice, soft and tinged with mischief, broke the quiet. "Do you want to get late supper?"

The car didn't swerve, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened. He glanced at you, his expression a mix of confusion and mild annoyance.

Late supper? That was not part of his rigidly structured itinerary. His day consisted of: work, shower, meticulously towel-dry his hair for exactly two minutes, collapse onto his bed, wake up, repeat. Spontaneous activities were not on the menu. And yet, here you were, blinking at him with an innocent expression.

At the next red light, he turned his head fully to face you.

"Late supper?" He repeated, as if the words themselves were foreign.

You nodded. "I know a few places still open that cater to people like me."

People like you? What did that even mean? Was he to assume you were a nocturnal wanderer, flitting from one food stall to another without a care in the world? The thought of such chaos, such a deviation from his meticulously planned existence, was alarming. But… tantalizingly so.

While his logical brain screamed about disruption, his heart was already halfway there. He stared at you, his gaze steady, and you stared back, your innocent demeanor either a stroke of genius or complete oblivion. He let out a long, defeated sigh, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Key in the address."

You beamed, happily typing the location into his GPS.

As he drove through the green light, a grimace of surrender on his face, he caught a flash of amusement in your eyes. And for the first time, the idea of change didn't feel entirely unwelcome. The city lights shimmered against the dark sky like fallen stars, and neon signs glowed in the distance, illuminating narrow streets and bustling night markets.

The GPS guided Seungcheol through a maze of twists and turns before bringing him to a halt beside a small collection of food stalls nestled between two buildings. The air hummed with the irresistible aromas of grilled meats, crispy batter, and fragrant broth. It was a stark contrast to the opulent dining establishments CEO Choi Seungcheol frequented, but he was here nonetheless.

You hopped out of the car with a bright grin, the sound of your shoes tapping against the pavement a soft punctuation to the urban symphony. You turned back to face him as he slowly closed the car door, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings with a curious gaze.

"First time?" You asked, your eyes sparkling under the streetlights.

"Yeah…" He admitted, smoothing the front of his jacket. "very first."

You giggled, pulling your arms around yourself. "Same, but I felt like exploring, and I figured... Food like this would probably taste better if you didn't have to worry about keeping your elbows off the table."

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "That's what everyone says before they get food poisoning."

You shoot him a mock glare. "You're such a corporate man."

"And you're reckless." He muttered, but followed you.

You led him toward a stall that served piping-hot tteokbokki, skewers shimmering alongside it. The ahjumma tending to the stall beamed at you, patting a nearby stool. The two of you sank onto its wobbly plastic legs, under a dangling light bulb and before a scarred wooden table. And yet, for some reason, it was unexpectedly…peaceful to Seungcheol.

You pushed a pair of chopsticks into his hand and smiled.

"Let's try to act like we just left a board meeting."

Seungcheol's gaze fell upon the bubbling bowl. There was no plated silver, no stemware; just steaming, red, spicy broth against the crisp night air. It was…warm, yet messy. He skewered a rice cake, gave it a brief, cooling blow and took a bite. His eyebrows arched subtly.

"…It's not bad."

You chuckled.

"Not bad? That's it? That's your formal critique?"

He nodded, his eyes already zeroed in on the next potential morsel.

"Spicy. A hint of sweet. Tender texture. Well-balanced."

You groaned theatrically. "God, you're reviewing this like you're Anthony Bourdain."

"I am a CEO. What else do you expect?"

Your laugh again lightened the tension in the night air. As you ate, the conversation gradually loosened up. You discussed small details: preferences in street food, unlikely bucket-list goals, silly anecdotes from high school.

Seungcheol found himself leaning in, laughing under his breath at your antics, even neglecting the persistent hum of his phone. He was so lost in conversation that he hadn't even noticed how relaxed he'd become. Tie slightly askew, sleeves pushed up, a fish cake skewer precariously balanced in his chopsticks. You offered him a tissue when he paused to dab at the corner of his mouth, cheeks slightly flushed from the spicy heat.

"Next time," you said between mouthfuls, "we could go for grilled skewers by the river. Apparently, they're open till 3AM."

His eyes snapped to yours.

Next time?

A knot of panic twisted in his chest. This was quickly becoming a pattern. But the other knot, the one warming in the center of his sternum, fluttered in response. It didn't mind.

By the time the last skewer had been demolished and the table was wiped clean, you were both back on your feet. As you fumbled in your bag for your wallet, already pulling out a handful of bills, Seungcheol's hand gently intercepted yours, pushing it aside with a decisive.

Before you could process his intent, he was paying the ahjumma with crisp cash, his fingers counting out the change with professional efficiency.

He gave her a brief nod, not looking at you as you stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Neither of you spoke as you climbed back into the car, the interior smelling comfortingly of leather, cedar, and coffee. As the engine rumbled to life, you turned your head, a spark of curiosity in your eyes.

"How did you have cash money in your pocket?"

He glanced at you, his free hand adjusting the air conditioning with a languid motion, and a slow, languid smile spread across his lips. "I'm not always a card guy, okay?"

You scoffed good-naturedly. "Right. A card and cash guy who doesn't know how to relax."

His laugh vibrated through you then, a low, rumbling sound that did unsettling things to your insides. It didn't stop there, though. He opened his mouth to say something else and noticed then, your seatbelt unbuckled. His gaze dropped from your eyes to the strap and back to you.

"Seatbelt." He murmured, his voice a mere whisper, but instead of waiting for you to secure it, he leaned across you, and you froze.

The air between you thinned to nothing. One of his arms brushed past your shoulder, his fingers expertly clicking the buckle into place. His cologne, expensive and warm, filled your senses, obscuring even your own breath. He wasn't aware of your sudden stillness. He didn't register the involuntary hitch in your inhale or the fluttering of your eyelashes like frantic butterflies trying to regain composure. It was merely a practical action.

To you? It was entirely too close, entirely too sudden.

He retracted his arm, leaned back in the driver's seat, and offered you a placid smile as his hands found the steering wheel.

"Ready to head back?" He asked, as if your heart hadn't just tried to escape your chest and take flight.

You met his gaze for a moment longer, lips parted, an incoherent jumble of "thank you" and "ahhhhh" caught somewhere between your tongue and the roof of your mouth. Finally, a shaky nod.

"Yeah…" You managed, your voice a quiet squeak. "Ready."

Sunlight streamed softly through the thin curtains in Seungcheol's penthouse, falling warm and gentle upon his impeccably organized walk-in closet. Racks of crisp white shirts, sharp tailored blazers, perfectly pressed trousers, and a tasteful collection of designer watches stood arranged on walls like a curated exhibit. He was currently standing before the full-length mirror in his room, dressed in a clean white button-down shirt, the charcoal grey blazer carelessly tossed over his arm.

His hair was still damp and slightly tousled from the shower, falling softly across his forehead.

And still, a frown etched itself across his face. Something was...off. On instinct, his hands reached for the blazer, pulling it off and replacing it with a navy counterpart. He buttoned the cuffs meticulously and stared at his reflection, tilting his head this way and that.

No, too stiff.

He tried again. Swapped the navy for a muted sand-coloured jacket, loosened his collar a fraction, and peered at himself.

Too soft.

A sigh escaped his lips.

"This is ridiculous." He muttered, running a hand through his already styled hair.

Today, there was no press conference, no grand company gala, no delegation from an international board flying in to address the executives. Just a normal day at the office.

But then again... You would be there. And that alone was enough to make his entire well-stocked wardrobe suddenly feel inadequate. He couldn't even pinpoint when this habit started, this growing compulsion to present himself a little bit better each morning, beginning today.

All he knew was that your eyes, always bright and alert, lingered for just a moment too long whenever you looked his way. And the way you smiled, a subtle, warm upturn of your lips as if he was someone deserving of such an expression... He wanted to live up to that.

He'd considered at least three different watches before settling on a Piaget Polo Date. He'd switched out his typically understated, slim-framed glasses for a bolder, more commanding pair. He'd applied a light spritz of Creed brand cologne. Then, he took a step back, giving his entire appearance a once-over.

The blazer was impeccably tailored, the tie just slightly unbuttoned for a touch of casual elegance, the hair perfectly artfully messy, and a hint of self-assured smirk present on his lips, just enough to not appear over the top. Still, he let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

Taking one final, critical look in the mirror and drawing a small breath to quell the flutter in his chest, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

The building's automatic doors glided open with a soft sigh of air as Seungcheol stepped into the lobby. Polished marble floors reflected the low morning light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Staff members were gradually filtering in, exchanging pleasantries, and preparing for the day ahead.

And then, his eyes landed on you. You were standing near the entrance, engaged in a light conversation with the receptionist, a gentle smile playing on your lips that seemed to suspend time. You were simple yet radiant. Your hair neatly tied back, and your blouse tucked into a modest skirt. And to Seungcheol, you were utterly captivating.

Perhaps it was the angle of the light hitting your face, or the soft cadence of your voice, or maybe, it was just the magic of you being you. Regardless, as soon as your gaze lifted and met his, he was utterly captivated. You turned to him fully, a brief spark of surprise in your eyes that quickly melted into a warm curiosity as your eyes slowly scanned from his face down to his attire.

You blinked once, then twice, and then your lips curved upward in an knowing smile.

"Oh?" You questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly as you crossed your arms over your chest. "New look today, Mr.Choi?"

He tried his best to appear nonchalant, casually adjusting the strap of his watch as if it were an afterthought, as if he hadn't spent a good twenty minutes staring into his closet.

"Just picked out whatever was clean." He stated evenly.

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you took a step closer, your eyes never leaving him. "Well, whatever was clean looks really, really good today."

Seungcheol felt a momentary freeze, not outward, but deep within, a subtle hitch in his breath. You looked back up at his face, tilting your head again, clearly amused by the faint pink creeping up the sides of his ears.

"Are you blushing?"

"I'm not." He said, his voice as flat as he could make it.

"You are."

"Y/N…" He warned, his tone light but the corners of his mouth giving away the smile threatening to break free. You moved to stand beside him as he walked toward the elevator, your stride falling into step with his.

"You know," You said, your gaze drifting to him with a sidelong glance, "if getting dressed up makes you this charming in the morning, I might have to request it more often."

He let out a soft scoff.

"Don't get too used to it."

"But you did it for me, didn't you?" You teased, your voice a low, melodic murmur.

The elevator doors chimed open, and Seungcheol entered, not responding, you following close behind. The space inside suddenly felt smaller than it had before. He stood next to you, hands in his pockets, facing the doors, but you could feel his presence radiating.

You looked up at him with a soft smile. You already knew the answer, and when his reflection caught you in the elevator door, still watching him with quiet affection, you saw it: a small, hesitant smile bloom on his face.

The morning had been... Quiet, or as quiet as things could be when your mentor happened to be your CEO and, oh yeah, your soulmate. You were at your desk outside of Seungcheol's spacious office, dutifully highlighting the important parts of case studies he had assigned earlier, when your phone buzzed softly on the table next to your notebook.

A text message from your mother.

Mom: Your father and I were wondering if Seungcheol is free for lunch today. Just something casual, we'd love to see the two of you together. I've already made a reservation just in case.

You blinked in surprise.

Of course your mother wouldn't wait for your confirmation before booking something. After reading it again, and then again, you stood up, knocked lightly on Seungcheol's office door before pushing it open. He was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his blazer resting on the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, engrossed in a document. He glanced over his shoulder at your knock.

"Yes?"

You entered, holding out your phone for him to see. "My parents texted. They want to have lunch with you today, and they've already booked something."

He turned to face you, his eyebrows rising slightly in surprise.

"Today?"

You nodded and showed him the text message.

On the surface, he didn't show much of an reaction, but you knew he wasn't the type to take sudden, unexpected plans in stride. His expression remained composed, however, with only a flicker of hesitation before he walked back to his desk and pressed a button on his intercom.

"Cancel the team check-in scheduled for 1PM." He said in a clear, even tone. "And add a lunch appointment under the name Shin family."

"Understood." His secretary responded instantly.

He turned back to you, his gaze unreadable but his tone still level.

"They picked a location, I assume?"

You nodded. "They did, I'll send you the address."

He gave a slow blink, then looked down at the stack of documents on his desk, adjusting his mental calendar on the fly. You offered a faint smile, and he let out a quiet sigh, running a hand up the back of his neck.

"Are you nervous?" He asks softly, eyes softening as they linger on you for a moment.

You pause. "...Maybe a little."

"Why?"

"Because you're… you." You tell him truthfully. "And I know how much they respect you, just as you respect them."

He holds your gaze for another beat before his lips curve, just a little.

"You make it sound like I'm meeting them for the first time." He then clears his throat, and gestures towards his watch. "I'll pick you up from your desk at twelve-thirty."

You nod, and turn to leave, but not before throwing a cheeky smile over your shoulder. "You better dress handsomely again, Mr. Choi."

The only answer you receive is the click of a pen behind you, and a soft, amused exhale.

The restaurant is a hushed, elegantly appointed space; a sanctuary where the tinkle of cutlery is softened by velvet walls and the gentle strains of classical music. The hostess ushers you and Seungcheol to a private room, where your parents are already seated. Your mother is immaculate in pearls, and your father is the picture of refined dignity in a sharp navy suit.

"Seungcheol," Your father addresses him first, standing to offer a hand. Seungcheol gives a slight bow, respectful yet professional. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr Shin."

"Likewise. Please, sit."

You slip into the chair beside Seungcheol, across from your parents, your hands clasped demurely in your lap. The initial conversation is exactly as expected. Your father queries him about company expansion, potential partnerships, your training progression under his guidance.

You listen, enthralled, sneaking glances at your mentor as he answers each question with practiced calm and articulate precision.

Everything is proceeding perfectly. And then the food arrives, and with it, the direct hit.

"So," Your mother says casually, picking up her soup spoon. "How is my daughter in your company?"

Seungcheol dabs his lips with a napkin before replying. "She's attentive, observant, and quick to adapt. Not many would have the initiative she's shown in just a few days."

A warmth blooms in your chest at the compliment, and you sit up straighter. But your mother is far from finished.

"And how is she…" She muses, stirring her soup slowly, "…as your soulmate?"

The spoon Seungcheol had been lifting to his lips halts abruptly halfway to his mouth. Then, he chokes, a full, honking choke.

You nearly drop your own spoon, snatching Seungcheol's glass of water and thrusting it towards him with both hands. He takes it immediately, eyes watering, and begins gulping, fast, one, two.

"M-Mom!" You yelp, cheeks burning. "Seriously?!"

Across the table, your mother wears the picture of angelic innocence. "What? I'm just curious."

Your father slowly turns to her, eyebrows raised. "Soulmates?"

Your mother nods, taking a leisurely sip of her tea. "I saw it at the masquerade party. They were staring at each other far too long. I had a feeling something had transpired. So I made a few… connections."

You and Seungcheol freeze. Your mother's gaze flicks between the two of you. Seungcheol, still attempting to swallow his panic and catch his breath, and you, patting his back and staring at your mother as though she has just betrayed a state secret.

She tilts her head. "Am I wrong?"

Silence. You open your mouth, then close it again. You're too stunned to formulate a response. Beside you, Seungcheol lowers the glass with a soft clink, setting it slowly back onto the table, his eyes fixed resolutely on the tablecloth.

He doesn't look up. His fingers clench tightly in his lap. The sheer weight of the unspoken in the room is crushing. He can imagine your father's thoughts. Ten years her senior, the respected work partner… now somehow intrinsically linked to their daughter by destiny.

He's terrified of the judgment, the inevitable shift.

You see it in the tightening of his shoulders, in the unyielding stare directed at the linen. For one agonizingly long moment, the air remains suspended. Then, your father sets down his spoon with a quiet click and leans back in his chair.

"Choi Seungcheol," He states.

Seungcheol snaps to attention, his gaze still downcast. "Yes, sir."

Your father's voice is impossible to read. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Seungcheol hesitates. "Because I… I didn't want to complicate anything. With your daughter… or with you."

Your mother glances from one man to the other, her eyes narrowing slightly. You bite down on your bottom lip, and your father falls silent once more. Then, after a beat that stretches on forever, he speaks.

"You're an honorable man, Seungcheol."

Both you and Seungcheol flinch. Your father continues, his gaze fixed on Seungcheol's averted face. "I knew that from the moment you walked into my office. And that hasn't changed. But now…"

He meets Seungcheol's eyes, his tone deepening.

"That honor means something more. It means you'll protect her."

Seungcheol's head snaps up, his eyes wide with shock.

Your father gives a curt nod. "You didn't choose this, she didn't choose this. But if fate has tied you together, then all I ask is that you treat her with the respect she deserves. Not as your subordinate, not as your intern, but as your equal."

Your jaw drops, and beside you, you hear the shaky release of a breath that had been held for what felt like an eternity.

"I… I will," Seungcheol whispers, his voice hoarse but clear. "I promise you, sir. I will protect her."

Your father nods again, and picks up his soup, as though the weight of the universe hasn't just shifted. Your mother watches, a knowing smirk playing on her lips behind her teacup.

"Well," She chirps brightly. "now that that's out of the way, let's enjoy lunch properly."

The soft click of the car doors echoes in the still air, muted by the hushed enclosure surrounding you and Seungcheol. The engine remains off, unengaged. Seungcheol sits in the driver's seat, hands relaxed on the wheel, gaze fixed unseeingly on the windshield. He's not seeing the road; he's replaying the conversation, the unexpected blessing, the weight of his promise, the gentle assurance in your mother's smile.

He'd braced himself for disapproval, for the polite yet firm refusal. For a million reasons to back down. But what he received… was freedom. The freedom to love you, openly, unabashedly.

Treat her as your equal, his father had said. And god, he would. He'd treat you like precious, fragile royalty. He'd plan dates with meticulous detail, spoil you with a relentless, shamelessly joyful abandon. He'd buy you that charm bracelet you'd admired days ago, and for every anniversary you shared, he'd add a new charm, each one representing a cherished memory.

The pressure he'd been carrying, the careful restraint he'd been forced to maintain, melted away like snow under a spring sun. In its place bloomed something even more profound, and exhilarating: joy. He swallowed hard, feeling the words settle in his chest, carving out space just for you.

Without starting the engine, without breaking the potent silence, he turned his head and found you already watching him lovingly, softly.

Your gaze, as if it could trace the turmoil of emotions playing out in his chest.

You managed a soft, gentle twist of the corner of your mouth. "Hi~"

That one syllable, that one word was enough to make his head reel.

He laughs genuinely, not a strained CEO-laugh-in-a-meeting. A light, easy, breezy, free laugh. His teeth show, his eyes are crinkled, and you join him with a light chuckle as you get swept up in his elation. The laughter then dies into something deeper and quieter, something that sets the air between the two of you crackling with electricity.

His eyes slide down to your lips then to yours.

"May I do something," He asks slowly, voice husky, a little breathy, "that is standard for thirty-year-old me... But may be incredibly embarrassing for you?"

You blink once, your head tilts like a curiosity filled feline, but you nod. And Seungcheol leans in. One hand rises, his fingertips grazing through your hair to support the back of your head. It's a sure and steady hold, as if he has held back for too long. And Seungcheol kisses you, soft and warm and with his eyes closed, no hurried pressure. Just him finally letting all he has been containing for the past several days flood into this one silent kiss.

You instinctively press into him, your lips mirroring his, soft and slow and with intention. And with that kiss, Seungcheol thinks so this is how peace taste, so this is how fate feel.

Pulling back slowly, foreheads brushing, your breath mingles with his. You open your eyes with slow blinking, flushed cheeks, lips parted slightly. "I've been wanting to do that since the masquerade."

Conversation buzzed like static in the sprawling, sun-drenched private room at the city's most sought-after restaurant. The walls seemed to absorb laughter, wine glasses tinkled, and the scent of anticipated food was already wafting through the air, even some hadn't arrived yet.

The door gave a creak, and there he was, Seungcheol, impeccably dressed in a sharp black shirt, sleeves rolled up just enough to tease a glimpse of his watch and prominent veins.

Following him, you slipped into the room, a quiet entrance made all but obvious by the way your fingers were so subtly entwined with his. Heads turned, conversations halted, then-

"Woooooahhhh- what do we have here?!"

"Wait, is that her?!"

"Cheol brought someone?! Willingly?!"

A cacophony of delighted chaos washed over the room as Seungcheol's friends—his brothers, the ones he'd only ever introduced as that—descended on you with eager eyes and boisterous voices.

Mingyu's congratulatory clap on Seungcheol's back nearly sent him stumbling. Soonyoung bounced on the balls of his feet like a kid on Christmas. Seokmin's wide, welcoming grin seemed to outshine the sunlight itself.

They were a whirlwind, a riot, but somehow, they were also so warm.

Before you could even utter a breath, Jeonghan's arm had slung comfortably around your shoulders, as if you'd always belonged there.

"So you're the one who melted our stone-faced CEO, huh?" He said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "God, we've been hearing about you without ever actually knowing your name. It's an honor, truly."

Seungcheol let out a soft, amused chuckle and rolled his eyes. The playful pandemonium continued as everyone eventually settled around the table. Even once the appetizers were cleared and the lively conversation had simmered down into punctuated giggles and wine sips, Jeonghan leaning forward with that familiar glint in his eye.

"You know what's crazy?" He said, gesturing languidly at Seungcheol. "This guy's been dating her for two years and still didn't bag her. Me? I dated my soulmate for three months. Three. Months. I couldn't wait. Already a father, remember those days?"

He proudly tapped the ring on his finger. Laughter rippled around the table; some shook their heads, others rolled their eyes at Jeonghan's flair, and even Seungcheol grinned wide. But he didn't say anything, not yet.

The best part was still to come. As the main courses were finished and desserts began making their appearance, with wine glasses half-empty and minds beginning to blur slightly, Seungcheol slowly rose from his seat, lifting his glass.

"I have two pieces of news." He announced, his voice steady, his smile gentle.

Silence fell over the table, eyes shifting to him. He met your gaze for a brief moment, then turned to the assembled faces.

"First, Y/N will be officially stepping in as CEO of her father's company beginning this year."

The room erupted into a frenzy of cheers, whistles, and applause.

"Yah! That's huge!"

"A power couple, oh my god."

"Don't forget us little people when you both own half the country!"

You ducked your head, cheeks flushing warmly, mouthing a quiet thank you as Seungcheol placed a reassuring hand on your back.

"And the second piece of news…" He continued, a deliberate pause hanging in the air. "…is that she said yes."

A moment of utter bewilderment flickered across everyone's faces. Then, the dam broke.

"Wait- wait- WAIT- WHAT?!"

"SAID YES TO WHAT?!"

"Oh my GOD!"

"You're LYING!"

The table exploded in a riot of stunned disbelief.

Mingyu jumped to his feet so quickly his chair wobbled precariously. Soonyoung's fork clattered to the floor. Jeonghan's jaw slackened in a look straight out of a melodrama.

Seungcheol merely smirked, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. He didn't even bother to open it. The instant it appeared, the collective screaming escalated to new heights. You tentatively held up your hand, heart pounding, the sparkle of the ring on your finger catching the light, accompanied by a soft, beaming smile.

"I'm his fiance." You whispered, shy but utterly firm.

"No. Freaking. Way."

"Since WHEN?!"

"DID YOU DO IT AT WORK?! Was it a boardroom proposal?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!"

The chaos reignited, voices overlapping, hands reaching for the glittering proof, while Seungcheol casually reclaimed his seat beside you, taking a slow sip of his drink as if he hadn't just shattered the reality of every single person at that table. Then, cutting through the din of the celebratory mayhem, he leaned close, his voice a low rumble only you could hear: "You're mine now. Officially."

A flutter bloomed in your chest.

In this room filled with friends and roaring laughter and pure, unadulterated disbelief, you'd never felt more certain. About him, about yourself, about forever.