Shadow

Irene tensed completely, her eyes widening as never before, and her hands gripped the arms of the chair. President Bae's rigidity faltered for a second, revealing the woman hidden behind it.

“How dare you…?” She muttered, half-rising from her seat. “I remind you that you have a valid contract. I can have your name blacklisted in this industry. I can destroy your career with a single phone call. You can’t leave!”

“You can do it if that’s what you want,” you replied, taking a step forward, resting your hands on the edge of the desk to look her straight in the eye. “Sign the termination, call the executives, blacklist me. I don’t care anymore.”

She remained silent, her chest rising and falling beneath the fabric of her designer suit. Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. Desperation, the same desperation she had tried to stifle in the Tokyo suite, began to surface in her eyes.

She couldn't understand how the ‘good boy’ who always bowed his head, the one who endured her daily bad moods and outbursts with infinite patience, the one who no matter what happened ended up giving her a sincere smile, now looked at her with such icy indifference.

“Why?” she finally asked. Her voice was no longer that of the president; it was a broken, disarmed, almost pleading whisper. “Why now? After all this time… after everything we’ve done together… Why are you doing this to me?”

You stared at her, taking in the features of the woman you had secretly loved for five years. The pain in your chest was still there, but it was no longer a burning fire; it was a cold scar.

“Because I’m in love with you, Joohyun.”

You were finally able to confess, taking a huge weight off your shoulders.

“And staying here, walking behind you while you pretend I don’t exist during the day and using me at night to keep your loneliness at bay, has completely destroyed me.”

Irene froze. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Her eyes welled with tears, reflecting a confusion and a heartbreak so profound that for a second you wanted to step back and comfort her. But you held back.

“I have nothing left to give you.”

It was the best thing for both of you.

You turned around, walked to the double doors, and opened them. Before stepping out, you paused for a second without looking back.

“Goodbye, President Bae. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me these past years.”

You left the office, closing the door softly behind you, leaving Irene completely alone and heartbroken. For the first time, you didn't clean up the mess you'd made on her office floor.

The news of your resignation spread through the office like wildfire. You said goodbye to your former colleagues, from the most junior to the highest-ranking officials. Some of them feared the worst, knowing you were the only one who had managed to tame the beast that occupied the presidential chair. Even Karina said goodbye with a warm hug, worried about your future well-being and that of her friend, the president.

During the first twenty-four hours, Irene tried to do what she did best: ignore the pain and take refuge in her work.

She convinced herself that you weren't indispensable. After all, the Human Resources department took barely three hours to send her a replacement with an impeccable resume, a graduate with honors from Seoul National University, perfectly dressed, and with submissive body language.

But the first mistake came with the morning report.

“What is this garbage?” Irene asked, dropping the folder onto the table. The new assistant jumped, instantly turning pale.

As the days passed, the situation only worsened. The president's mood became so volatile and destructive that working on the top floor became a high-risk activity.

The second replacement was summarily dismissed after three days for failing to anticipate that Irene would cancel the meeting with the finance committee due to a migraine. The third lasted barely forty-eight hours; Irene shouted at him out of her office simply because the sound of his shoes walking down the hall distracted her.

Being Bae Joohyun's personal assistant had changed drastically. It was no longer anything like a Hunger Games tribute. Now, it was a parade of pirates walking the plank, one after another. An absolute bloodbath.

No one knew her rhythms. No one knew when she needed absolute silence and when she required a reminder to eat. No one could read the storms brewing in her dark eyes before they erupted.

At night, Irene would stay alone in the vastness of her office, the Seoul skyline streaming through the window. She would stare at the center of her desk, where the white envelope appeared like a ghostly vision. But the only real ghost was the echo of your words:

“I’m in love with you, Joohyun.”

She crossed her arms, rubbing her shoulders as if she felt a sudden chill that the building's central heating couldn't soothe. She didn't want to go home; there, her loneliness intensified because you wouldn't be there to meet her anymore.

For the first time in her life, the success of her textile empire wasn't enough to fill the suffocating void that threatened to crush her chest. She was on top of the world, yes.

But she had never felt so terribly alone.

Several kilometers away, in a modest but comfy apartment, the alarm clock did not ring at five in the morning.

You stirred in the sheets, slowly opening your eyes to find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling. During the first few days of your new unemployed life, your body, accustomed to the frenetic pace of haute couture and midnight phone calls, reacted with panic to the lack of stimulation. You woke with a start, searching for your mobile phone, your breath quickening, hoping to find a message from Irene demanding a last-minute change of itinerary.

But the phone remained silent. There were no emails from the board. There were no upcoming events.

Step by step, you learned to unwind. You started going for morning runs, feeling the fresh air on your face without the rush of having to hurry back to the office. You forced yourself to cook, rediscover the taste of simple things, and find new activities to fill the empty hours in your living room.

You started sending your resume to mid-sized companies, looking for low-profile administrative positions with modest salaries and, above all, much less pressure. You no longer wanted to return to a leading company in its sector. You wanted invisibility.

One night, while eating a bowl of instant noodles in front of the television, you decided to turn on the screen to break the deafening silence of the house. You flipped through the channels without paying much attention, until a news and variety show caught your eye and made you freeze, your thumb hovering over the remote.

The screen displayed the flashing label ‘LATEST NEWS’, accompanied by shaky footage recorded from a distance.

The footage, captured that same afternoon at the airport, showed Irene walking through the terminal surrounded by two bodyguards.

She didn't wear her usual expression of cold indifference; her face was gaunt, her eyes dull and fixed on the ground, devoid of the authoritative gleam that usually disarmed anyone. She seemed more fragile, paler, dragging her feet with a deep and heavy sadness that not even her impeccable designer outfit could conceal.

The paparazzi followed her a few meters away, capturing how she got into the car in absolute silence, oblivious to the commotion around her.

You stopped, chopsticks halfway through, staring silently at the screen. The distance and time you'd tried to build to heal seemed to crumble in a single second. She was broken, as broken as you, and the painful certainty that you had destroyed each other hit you in the chest with overwhelming force.

Then your phone started vibrating. Once, twice, even three times in a row. You unlocked it and sighed wearily. You set aside your impromptu dinner and typed quickly.

YOU: “What do you want now, Ning?”

NING: “I have two tickets for tonight’s game and no one to go with.” NING: “Are you interested?”

You were going to refuse immediately, making up some lame excuse, but you thought twice. That night was the national championship final.

“Damn Ningning.” You muttered, typing again.

YOU: “How much is it going to cost me?” NING: “Hey!” NING: “Who do you think I am?” NING: “It’s a friendly hangout, nothing more.” YOU: “Are you sure?” NING: “Obviously. I’ll pick you up at 6 PM.”

You sighed, throwing your phone onto the sofa. Was this even right? You wondered, heading to the bedroom to get ready.

The television continued playing the news in the background, but you could no longer hear it.

“And this is the news” the reporter commented.“Irene Group will be providing the team's official apparel next season. Tonight at the stadium, CEO Bae Joohyun will attend the tournament final to celebrate the new partnership.”

********************************************************

The stands were a cauldron of scarves, flags, and deafening chants. Your seats weren't just in the VIP box, but in one of the rows with the best view, courtesy of Ningning's father.

You were surrounded by local businesspeople and distinguished associates. It reminded you of your former life. You were both wearing the local team's jerseys, completely immersed in the festive atmosphere of the final.

Minutes before the opening whistle, the stadium's PA system crackled to life, partially silencing the clamor of the fans.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to officially announce that the prestigious Irene Group consortium will be providing our club's jerseys starting next season.”

The stands erupted in cheers. In the center of the pitch, under the giant spotlights, the team owner appeared, shaking hands with Bae Joohyun. She wore an impeccable black cashmere coat, but draped over her shoulders, almost ironically, was a scarf in the home team's colors.

You froze, your eyes fixed on her figure while the crowd applauded wildly.

“With how big the world is, this has to be some kind of joke.” You muttered under your breath. You turned to your companion, narrowing your eyes. “You knew about this, didn’t you, Yizhuo?”

Ningning looked at you with wide eyes, feigning an innocence that didn't quite convince you, although a subtle smile betrayed her.

“How was I to know?” She complained, giving you a friendly shove on the shoulder. “I just wanted to take your mind off things for a bit. Enjoy the game, you grouch.”

You sulked in your seat like a little kid, but instinctively your eyes focused on the woman who until a few days ago was your boss.

She gave a brief speech, barely three sentences long, in that polite, cool, and perfectly modulated voice you had heard so many times at press conferences. However, from the distance of the VIP box, you could see that her movements lacked their usual energy.

You clapped half-heartedly, mimicking the rest of the stadium's ovation when the speech ended. Perhaps Ningning was right; you should forget everything and just enjoy the game.

And you certainly succeeded. As the minutes ticked by, the adrenaline of the match completely swept you both away. The game was a nail-biter, an end-to-end affair, and both you and Ningning ended up on your feet, shouting at every foul and celebrating every play with the unbridled passion of true fans.

Meanwhile, in the presidential area, just a few dozen meters away, Irene was bored out of her mind. She didn't like sports, she didn't like the smell of cheap beer, and she hated the shallow hypocrisy of the executives who tried to flatter her.

To distract herself from the migraine that threatened to return, she rested her chin on her gloved hand and began to make a quick, disinterested scan of the first few rows of the adjacent box.

Then, her gaze stopped abruptly.

Irene's heart leapt so violently that she felt a physical pain in her chest. There you were. After weeks of absolute silence, after entire nights suffocating in her office staring at an empty desk, she was seeing you live. But you weren't alone.

The home team had just taken the lead. She saw you jump out of your seat with a huge smile, that same genuine smile she missed so much, and saw Ningning throw her arms around your neck laughing, celebrating the goal with a complicity that made Irene feel like she'd swallowed hydrochloric acid.

Bae Joohyun unraveled completely. The mask of the ruthless president shattered into a thousand pieces before the executives. Her fingers dug into the edge of the box's handrail. Seeing the man who had declared his love for her just weeks before, the one who had dominated and broken her in bed in Tokyo, gleefully celebrating with that bitch Ningning while she lay dying of loneliness, broke her for good.

The game ended with a victory for the home team. The stadium was a sea of ​​ecstasy, fireworks, and shouts of jubilation. As you left through the VIP corridors to avoid the crowds, you and Ningning walked along, discussing the best plays of the night, the adrenaline still pumping.

“Yizhuo! What a joy to see you here!”

The team owner's booming voice stopped you in your tracks. The elderly tycoon was walking with his arms outstretched, beaming with joy at the victory. Behind him, surrounded by a few other partners and sponsors, walked Irene.

Upon seeing you, Irene stopped abruptly. Her dark eyes, bloodshot with a mixture of suppressed rage, pain, and deep humiliation, fixed on you and then descended to Ningning's hand, which was still brushing against your arm.

“Good evening, sir, and congratulations.” Ningning greeted him with formal respect.

“Stop with the formalities, girl.” The owner laughed, patting you on the back. “Your dad told me you’d be around. Listen, we’re going to celebrate the victory with a very traditional local barbecue nearby. No fancy restaurants, just grilled meat and good beer. President Bae has already agreed to join us. You have to come, I insist. I won’t take no for an answer.”

You looked at Irene. She didn't say a word, but her eyes pleaded and threatened you at the same time, demanding that you reject the invitation so as not to prolong her torture.

Perhaps it was for the best; neither you nor she deserved to prolong this any longer.

“Of course, sir. We’ll gladly come.” Ningning said, anticipating the meeting, with a smile that wasn’t subservient. “A nice cold beer would be very welcome.”

The barbecue restaurant was a noisy place, filled with charcoal smoke, the smell of pork belly, and the constant clinking of beer mugs. The team owner sat at the head of the table, Ningning next to you, and Irene... right across from you, separated only by a narrow wooden table and a metal grill where the glowing coals were beginning to sizzle.

The tension at the table became so thick that the smoke from the bar seemed to float around it. While the team owner talked a mile a minute about the game and Ningning laughed at his jokes, Irene kept her eyes fixed on you.

She stared at you through the flames of the grill, an untouched glass of beer in her hands, a storm of wild jealousy devouring her from the inside out.

When Ningning casually placed a piece of meat on your plate, Irene couldn't contain herself any longer. Her dominant hand, the one she used to sign million-dollar contracts, gripped the beer glass with fury. Under your watchful gaze, she raised the glass and downed it in one gulp, her eyes never leaving yours.

You stared at her in silence, feeling a chill run down your spine. You knew her alcohol tolerance perfectly well, and you knew that when Irene drank like that, uncontrollably and fueled by anger, it wasn't going to end well.

As the hours passed, the dinner degenerated into a typical noisy post-game celebration. Alcohol flowed freely, and many of the members and directors ended up quite drunk. The club owner, his tie now undone and his cheeks flushed, celebrated the evening's successes with great enthusiasm, completely oblivious to the silent drama unfolding at his own table.

Irene, for her part, continued emptying glass after glass in stony silence, with a tragic elegance that only you knew how to decipher as pure despair.

Around 1:00 a.m., the group began to disperse on the sidewalk outside the restaurant under the cool Seoul night breeze. Taxis and official cars began to take the guests away.

Ningning, her cheeks flushed from the beer and a bright smile on her face, turned to you to say goodbye.

“I had an amazing time today,” she said, taking a step into your personal space. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a warm, lingering kiss on your cheek.

At that very moment, barely two meters away, Irene came out of the restaurant. She stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk, witnessing the scene. Her eyes flashed with wild fury under the streetlights.

“Don’t thank me for the help.” She whispered, looking over your shoulder at a wobbly Irene.

“What are you talking about now?” you asked, confused.

Ningning simply said goodbye to you, winking at you before getting into her taxi and disappearing into the distance down the avenue.

You were alone with your boss. Neither of you dared to say anything; the air between you vibrated with the unspoken words of the last few weeks, with the echo of Tokyo, and with the insurmountable distance of your resignation.

Irene, visibly drunk and unsteady from the mix of alcohol and anger, broke eye contact. She whirled around on her heels, ready to get into her car and flee, but her coordination failed her. The heel of her left shoe twisted on a crack in the sidewalk, and her body, weakened by the tension and the drink, collapsed.

She hit the pavement with a sharp, sickening thud.

“President!” You shouted, reacting immediately out of pure instinct, forgetting resentment, distance, and formalities.

You knelt beside her on the cold cement, reaching out to support her shoulders and help her up. But as soon as your fingers touched the fabric of her designer coat, she reacted violently.

"Don't touch me!" She spat out, her voice slurred by alcohol, slapping you hard and furiously away from her arm.

She tried to get up on her own, pushing herself up with her hands on the ground, but her arms trembled and she almost fell again. She was humiliated, broken, and completely defenseless before the only man she couldn't control.

You stared at her for a few seconds, the mark of her slap still warm on your arm. You could have turned away. You could have let her driver deal with her and returned to the solitude of your apartment. But you saw her lying there, so small, so weak and defenseless, that your pride completely dissolved.

You swallowed what little self-respect you had left and decided to perform one last service for her. Not as her assistant, but as the man who knew her better than anyone.

“That’s enough, Irene.” You said firmly, ignoring her weak protests.

You crouched down, slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and lifted her up. Her body, though stiff at first from surprise, felt incredibly light in your arms.

Irene gasped, clinging to the lapels of your jacket out of pure instinct for survival, burying her gaunt face in your neck as a stifled sob escaped her lips. Her breath, hot and redolent of alcohol, brushed against your skin.

“Let me go!” She tried to defend herself by throwing clumsy punches in the air. You looked both ways across the street, grateful for the lack of an audience during that embarrassing moment.

You walked the few blocks that separated you from your modest apartment with her in your arms, feeling how, little by little, Irene's rigidity faded away, surrendering completely to your strength and letting herself be carried away by tiredness and drunkenness.

You went upstairs in silence, opened the door to your house, and led her into your humble and peaceful refuge. You gently placed her on the sofa in your living room, a place where she could rest.

"Don't move, I'll get a glass of water." You said, walking to the kitchen without taking your eyes off her.

Everything was spinning for Irene. She was drunk and confused, not quite sure where she was, and her eyes began to close slowly. She looked for a more comfortable position on the sofa.

"Here, have a drink, I'm sure you'll feel better..." You fell silent when you entered the living room again and found her fast asleep, softly snoring.

“This is unbelievable.” You whispered, unable to believe what your eyes were seeing. Your ex-boss, the woman who had driven you crazy like never before, the one you were deeply in love with, was now sleeping off the alcohol in your own apartment.

You took her in your arms again, more carefully this time, trying not to wake her, and laid her on your bed. You tucked her in and gazed at the tranquility and natural beauty of her face as she slept peacefully.

You stood silently by the bed for a few minutes, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. With extreme care, you brushed aside a couple of dark strands of hair that had stuck to her forehead with the night's sweat.

You left the glass of water on the bedside table, turned around, and left the room, closing the door quietly. That night you slept on the sofa, wrapped in an old blanket. *************************************************************

The next day, you woke up with your body aching from the bad posture on the sofa. You went to the kitchen to prepare something for breakfast. A little coffee and some toast with jam would be enough to wake you up.

Just as you were about to pour the coffee into a cup, the bedroom door opened with a soft creak.

Irene appeared in the doorway.

Her eyes were swollen, her hair was disheveled, and she had one hand resting on her temple, suffering the effects of the terrible hangover from the night before.

She stood motionless, staring at you in the middle of your modest kitchen. Gone was the fury of the barbecue, the office arrogance. Only a raw, silent shame remained.

“Drink this,” you said gently, placing a steaming cup of coffee on the kitchen table. “It’ll settle your stomach.”

Irene moved forward slowly, dragging her bare feet across the wooden floor. She sat down at the table and took the mug in both hands, seeking the warmth of the coffee, and took a small sip under your watchful gaze. Instead, she avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, unable to meet your eyes for the first time in five years.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, her voice hoarse from the night's chill and the alcohol. “You should have left me on the sidewalk.”

“I couldn’t do that,” you replied, leaning against the counter. “I know exactly how you get when you drink. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Irene pressed her lips together. Her shoulders shrank beneath her new and expensive designer jacket.

“I saw you,” she whispered, a hint of pain she couldn’t quite hide. “Ningning and you during the game. You looked so… happy. I haven’t seen you smile like that in ages. With me, you were always tense, tired… down.”

You held her gaze, feeling a lump in your throat. The honesty of daylight was far more devastating than the darkness of night.

“She’s just a friend, Irene. There’s nothing between us,” you confessed calmly. “But she was never the problem. The problem is what we do to each other when we’re together. We consume each other until there’s nothing left.”

Irene closed her eyes, absorbing your words as the steam from the coffee caressed her face. She knew you were right. She knew that the power dynamic, the secrecy of your nights, and the coldness of your days at the office had led you to a dead end.

"I need you."

Irene's sudden confession caught you off guard. You felt something stir inside you.

“You can survive without me,” you said with your voice quiet and exhausted. “The company won’t go bankrupt because of the lack of a simple assistant.”

“The office is a hell without you,” she admitted. She looked up abruptly, and for the first time you noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

She left her half-finished mug on the table. She stood up slowly, her stiffness betraying how much effort it took her to take each step, and walked toward you.

Her fingers, icy and trembling, timidly brushed the back of your hand. It was a brief contact. A spark. Your first physical impulse was to pull your arm back, fearfully, like that time during the photo shoot. But this time something inside you wouldn't allow it.

“I miss you,” she murmured.

Taking advantage of your immobility, she slid her hand over yours and intertwined her fingers with your own.

“My house is empty. It doesn’t feel like a home. I don’t know… I don’t know how to make my life work if you’re not here.”

You stared at her, feeling the love you had for her squeeze your chest with overwhelming force. It would have been so easy to give in. But you remembered the suffocating emptiness of the day you resigned. You remembered that you wanted to save yourself from that pain.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever known. You never depended on anyone, and you became who you are today all on your own.” You squeezed your hand against hers.

All you had to do was take her hand, put your arm around her waist, and kiss those lips dry from the hangover. Promise her that you'd be back in her office at eight o'clock tomorrow morning.

“That’s why you can’t depend on me now.”

You gently released yourself from her grip, softly separating your fingers from hers, giving her one last sad caress on the back of her hand.

“That’s the mistake, Joohyun. I can’t be your only anchor if I have to sacrifice my own life.”

“I love you…“

That was a low blow. Too cruel, even for someone like her. You froze, your hand hovering millimeters from hers. Those two words. The ones you'd longed to hear for five years of silence and empty dawns.

Irene took another step, closing the physical distance you were trying to maintain. A clean, heavy tear rolled down her makeup-free cheek and hit the wooden floor. Her lower lip trembled, but she didn't take her eyes off you. There was no pride left in them.

“I love you in a way that terrifies me.” She whispered, opening up, and her voice, devoid of any trace of authority, made her feel so vulnerable that it didn't seem like her own.

“I’ve been a coward. A damn selfish coward this whole time. I convinced myself that keeping my distance during the day was the right thing to do, that it was what my position demanded, but the truth is, I hid behind my status because I was afraid of how much you affected me.”

She placed a trembling hand against your chest, right above your heart, which was beating with excessive force.

“During these years, the world out there was a viper's nest where everyone wanted something from me. My position, my money, my influence… Everyone was looking at me, waiting for me to make a mistake so they could step on me.” She sobbed, tears streaming from her beautiful dark eyes.

“Everyone but you.”

You were stunned. Hearing Bae Joohyun break down like that was a devastating blow.

“You were the only one who looked me in the eyes and truly saw me. The only one who cared for me without asking for anything in return. I became so accustomed to your warmth, your infinite patience, the security I felt knowing you would always be there protecting me from everything, that I became blind. Blind and miserable.”

A stifled sob interrupted her words. Irene clenched her fists against your shirt, wrinkling the fabric desperately, as if she were clinging to the edge of a precipice.

“I used you. I know I used you to avoid facing my own loneliness, to have a refuge at night and continue being the invincible president during the day.”

Your eyes welled up too. A suffocating lump closed your throat as you stared at her desperate, trembling hands.

“It hurt to see you leave my house in the late hours of the night. It broke my heart to have to pretend you were just the man who brought me reports when we were at the office,” she continued, her voice breaking, little more than a breathless whisper. “But I was too proud to admit that I needed you more than anything in this world. I thought you would always be there because… because I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

She looked up, her eyes completely clouded, pleading for a mercy she knew she perhaps did not deserve.

“Every corner of my house reminds me that you’re gone. Every time I look at my phone, I hope for a message from you. I had to see you smiling with someone else to realize that I’ve been killing you inside for all these years, and I hate myself for it.”

She clung to you, resting her forehead against your shoulder, burying her face in the crook of your neck, stifling her sobs, just as she had in the Tokyo suite. You felt a violent, almost uncontrollable urge to wrap your arms around her, to press her body against yours and comfort her.

“I hate myself for taking so long to tell you what I’ve always felt. I love you. I love you so much that if you ask me to give up everything, to resign as president, to tell the company to go to hell so I can start over with you in this apartment… I’ll do it.”

For five years you had secretly prayed for this moment, dreamed of her stepping down from her altar and telling you she loved you. The problem now wasn't her lack of love, it was the destructive dynamic you had become entangled in.

With painful slowness, you placed your hands over hers. Gently you separated her fingers from your shirt, loosening her grip with a delicacy that hurt more than any slap.

“Don’t tell me that, Irene. Please, don’t do this to me.” You said, and your voice broke for the first time, revealing all the pain you had tried to bury.

Irene shuddered as she felt you walk away, staring at you with wide eyes, terrified of a rejection she didn't know how to process.

“It’s true… every word is true.” She sobbed, trying to move forward again. “I’m not lying to you, please.”

“I have loved you silently every damn day of these five years, Irene.” You replied, your eyes dropping for a second before locking onto hers again.

“Every time I walked behind you, every time I covered for you at meetings, every late night I had to leave your house as if it were a shameful secret... I did it because I loved you.”

You let out a trembling sigh, swallowing your tears so as not to lose what little strength you had left.

“But I’m not coming back. And I’m not going to let you quit your company because of me.” You added in a voice that, despite the pain, sounded unwavering.

Irene stood motionless, tears streaming uncontrollably down her cheeks, completely broken.

“If you abandon your empire for me, you’ll end up hating me. Because that company is who you are, it’s your life, it’s what you built with your blood and your pride. And if I come back, I’ll end up hating you. We’ll be right back where we started.”

Irene shook her head, clenching her fists in frustration. Your words, lacking anger but brimming with overwhelming maturity, finally broke down her last defense.

“I will change… I swear I will change this time,” she pleaded in a whisper.

You looked into her tear-filled eyes, listened to the trembling of her voice, stripped of all power, and something in your chest finally cracked. Logic, the arguments for survival, the safe distance you had tried so hard to maintain... it all evaporated in a millisecond.

It was stupid.

It was fucking absurd to keep pretending indifference when you had the woman you had loved with every fiber of your being for a whole five years all to yourself, disarmed, fragile and unprotected in the middle of your kitchen, offering you her empire in exchange for your warmth.

Your feelings were still too strong to ignore.

You couldn't contain the impulse for even a second longer. You took a step forward, closing the distance between you, and pulled her roughly towards you. Your arms encircled her waist with excessive, almost violent force, squeezing her against your body.

Irene gasped in surprise, but immediately clung to your neck with blind desperation, digging her nails into your back as if she feared it was all a mirage.

“Damn it, Joohyun…” You let out in a broken murmur just before you sought her lips.

The kiss was a clash of pure, repressed need, tinged with the salty taste of tears. There was no tenderness; it was a hungry, chaotic reunion, a fire that consumed in an instant the five years of silence and the pain of the last few weeks.

She returned the kiss with the same intensity, parting her lips and tangling her fingers in your tousled hair, surrendering control to you for the first time in her life.

When you separated by just millimeters to breathe, your foreheads remained pressed together. It was in that moment of respite that the dam completely broke.

Your own eyes overflowed. Hot, heavy tears began to stream down your cheeks, and you could do nothing to stop them. Your body began to tremble, overcome by the weight of so much pent-up suffering, and your legs gave way.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” She sobbed against your neck, breaking into a thousand pieces, squeezing you as if her life depended on it. “Forgive me for hurting you, for using you… I didn’t mean to break you, I swear, I didn’t…”

“Forgive me,” you replied, your voice choked with sobs, cradling her head in your hands, kissing her forehead and cheeks. “Forgive me for leaving like that, for leaving you alone… I couldn’t take it anymore, Joohyun, I was dying inside…”

“I know, I know…” Irene nodded repeatedly, burying her face in your chest as her sobs filled the small apartment. “Don’t go. Don’t let me go back to that empty office.”

You held her face in your hands, forcing her to look at you. Despite her swollen eyes and the traces of tears, you never stopped seeing her as incredibly beautiful.

“I’m not going back to that office,” you said firmly, though your eyes were still moist. “I’m never going to be your assistant again.”

Irene shook her head vehemently, wiping the tears from her chin with the back of her hand.

“I don’t want an assistant,” she declared, and for the first time, a spark of absolute resolve and relief shone in her dark eyes.

“I want the man I love.”

A sigh of pure relief escaped your lips. The dead weight you had carried in your chest for years finally dissolved, giving way to immense peace. You leaned down and kissed her again, this time with a sweet slowness, savoring the promise of a real, clean future, on your terms.

“This is the first time I’ve missed work voluntarily.” Irene commented, watching the sunrise from the balcony of your apartment.

The smudge of jam at the corner of her lips seemed so cute to you that you couldn't resist taking your phone and opening the camera app, pointing it directly at her.

She raised a confused eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” she asked, wiping the remains with a napkin.

“Can’t I take pictures of my beautiful girlfriend?” you asked with a smile, taking a few more pictures. “I have 7 gigabytes of space to fill.”

A laugh escaped Irene, trying to muffle her laughter with a hand over her mouth.

"You're an idiot." She said, hitting you on the arm.

Six months passed.

You kept your word. You found an administrative position at a mid-sized book distributor. The salary was modest, but you left at six o'clock sharp, no one called you in the middle of the night, and weekends were yours to enjoy. You began to smile for real again, to sleep eight hours a night.

And the best part was that your relationship with Irene was excellent. She didn't leave the business, but she appointed a new CEO to handle the international fashion shows, delegated secondary board meetings, and, for the first time in her career, the press caught her taking a holiday with you in a modest country house. She was still the majority shareholder, of course... but now she had a lot more free time.

One spring afternoon, in mid-May, the sky threatened a storm. You left the distributor with a box of samples under your arm and stopped under the building's porch when you saw the first heavy, thick raindrops begin to hit the asphalt.

You looked for the umbrella in your backpack, but realized you had left it on your desk.

"Do you need some help?"

The voice, soft, mature, and perfectly modulated, made your heart skip a beat. You turned around slowly.

Just a few steps away, sheltering from the rain under the same porch, there she stood. There were no official cars on the sidewalk. No bodyguards flanking her. Her hair was loose, swaying in the spring breeze, and she wore comfortable jeans and an unmarked beige trench coat. She held a black umbrella in her hands. She looked relaxed, her skin healthy, and there was a light in her dark eyes that you had never seen before.

“Is your shift over, Madam President?”

“Not entirely.” She remarked, approaching you and sheltering you from the raindrops under her umbrella. “But I had an important date tonight.”

A clear laugh escaped your chest. The tension of the past seemed to have dissolved. You took her hand and looked up at the cloudy sky, feeling an immense peace throughout your body.

“It’s time to go home, together.” You murmured, looking at her with a smile.

You walked together in the rain, sharing the same umbrella, blending into the city crowd like two ordinary people. Two people who had been destroyed, who had been saved, and who now, at last, could truly love each other. ***********************************************************

The views of this paradise destination from your suite's balcony early in the morning were simply unbeatable. Dressed only in your bathrobe, you let the fresh breeze clear your mind. “Karina was right,” a female voice said behind you. “The beaches of Bali are breathtaking.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your wife, Bae Joohyun, also in her bathrobe, leaning against the railing and gazing at the vast ocean. You laughed at her comment, turning to face her.

“We haven’t even set foot on the sand yet.”

She walked towards you with a smile, wrapped her arms around your neck and gave you a soft kiss on the lips which you instantly returned.

“We’ve been really busy, haven’t we?” she asked with a wry smile. “And I think we will be for quite a while longer.” She added, swaying back into the suite.

“Come on,” you said playfully. “Aren’t we going to leave the room for the entire honeymoon either?”

Irene didn't answer. Instead, she turned towards you, winked, and untied the knot of her bathrobe, letting it slip to the floor.

You looked at her naked body from top to bottom, feeling a sudden surge of heat in your veins.

As you entered, the clinking of crystal glasses and the murmur of the business elite enveloped you. At the back table, by the large window, she was waiting for you.

Ning Yizhuo wore an impeccable cream-colored tailored suit. She wasn't just an old friend from college; she was also the heiress to a fashion giant that had been trying to dethrone the Irene Group for years.

And besides that, your personal history had been somewhat turbulent during your student years. You shared a past of tangled sheets that neither of you ever tried to hide.

“I still don’t understand how you can be so loyal to that old demon,” Ningning remarked mid-meal, elegantly sipping her white wine. “I heard you turned down Prada, Versace, and Balenciaga all in the same year.”

“She’s only thirty-five, Ning.” You countered, adjusting your shirt cuffs. “She’s the youngest CEO in the industry and the one who’s grown her company the most in the last decade. You don’t even hold your father’s position yet.”

“We could do great things together if you accept my offer,” she insisted, leaning across the table with a smile. “Projections indicate that in five years we’ll be on par with the Irene Group. Come with me. I’ll give you the expansion department.”

“I’ve already made this clear to you. I don’t plan on leaving Joohyun to go to the competition. I may be many things, Yizhuo, but I’ll never be a traitor.”

Ningning stopped, the glass halfway to her lips. Her eyes narrowed, sparkling with pure amusement.

"This is the first time you've used her real name with me. Something's happened between you two, hasn't it?"

You stopped cutting the piece of meat immediately, internally reprimanding yourself for having made that mistake.

“Don’t start with your college conspiracy theories, Ning.”

“About that…” She rested her chin on her palm, her tone dangerously suggestive. “You never properly thanked me for taking your virginity back then.”

You coughed loudly, almost choking on the piece of meat you'd put in your mouth. Feeling your cheeks burn slightly, you glanced around to make sure no one at the nearby tables was paying attention.

“We were young and we had drunk too much at that New Year’s Eve party,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You gave me an orgasm, I gave you an orgasm. I don’t owe you anything. It only happened once, damn it.”

Ningning's smile widened when she saw your defensive attitude.

“Actually, it was twice,” she corrected with a sing-song giggle. “If we count that threesome we had with Giselle.”

Giselle's name floated in the air. Remembering that Japanese exchange student, with a body sculpted for sin and such a free attitude, brought back a vivid memory of a night that seemed lost in your mind.

“My lunch break is over, I need to get back to the office.” You said abruptly, getting up from the table and throwing your card onto the bill to end the conversation.

“Wow, you even paid for my order. How chivalrous you've become.” Ningning mocked, adjusting her bag as you left the restaurant.

“Didn’t I always do it?” you asked, huffing in annoyance.

"You know I can pay you back whenever you want." She remarked, approaching with deadly danger; the subtext of that phrase left no room for doubt as to what she really meant.

Suddenly, you felt as if the temperature around you seemed to drop abruptly below zero.

“I was wondering what my official car was doing parked in front of a restaurant like this,” said a very familiar voice behind you, making your shoulders tense instantly.

She wore dark sunglasses that concealed her eyes, but the rigidity of her jaw betrayed her mood. Her mere presence seemed to overshadow the bustle of the avenue.

Ningning, far from being intimidated, smiled with an almost insulting familiarity and stepped forward.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you, President Bae.” She greeted her in an impeccably respectful manner, albeit with a hint of irony.

“Same here, Ning. You look radiant, as always.” Irene replied, subtly lowering her sunglasses to fix her dark eyes on you, before turning back to the heiress. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“We were classmates in college, Madam President,” you clarified immediately, trying to sound professional.

That's when Ningning decided to play with fire. With a graceful movement, she took a step toward you and slid her arm around yours, deliberately pressing herself against your side in a gesture of absolute possession.

“We were just catching up,” Ningning added, looking at Irene with a defiant glint in her eyes. “You’ve been incredibly lucky to have him on your team, Madam President. He’s a great guy. Very… accommodating in everything he does.”

The silence that followed those words was deafening. You could feel Irene's gaze burning through the fabric of your suit. Her jaw clenched so tightly that a small muscle twitched in her cheek.

“Yes,” Irene replied, her voice so soft and icy it cut through the air like a scalpel. “He is. But unfortunately, he has work. Get moving. We have a meeting in twenty minutes.”

Without waiting for a response, Irene turned around and walked towards the black sedan that was still parked in front of the sidewalk.

“Give my regards to your father, Ning.” She said before disappearing into the vehicle.

“I will, Irene.” Ningning released your arm with one last playful caress and winked at you before walking away in the opposite direction. This girl was causing you too much trouble.

You stood for a second on the sidewalk, swallowing hard. The storm you had tried to avoid was no longer on the horizon; it had just erupted right in front of you.

The journey back to the company became a torture chamber on wheels. The silence was sepulchral, ​​thick, broken only by the sound of tires on asphalt.

Through the rearview mirror, you could see Irene's reflection in the back seat. Her gaze was fixed on the road, but her shoulders were completely rigid. Furious.

Not only because of your sudden and inexplicable distant attitude, but also because of the inexplicable storm that had been raging in her stomach ever since she saw you with Ningning. She, the undisputed queen of the industry, looked as if seeing another woman touching your arm and joking about your shared past had provoked such a savage desire to destroy everything.

“Remember to book our flights for the parade in Tokyo this weekend,” she said suddenly, without taking her eyes off the window. Her tone was flat, but sharp.

“I left your plane ticket on your desk this morning, along with the rest of today’s agenda,” you explained. Your voice was calm and neutral, your eyes fixed on the road.

Irene slowly turned her head, as if she couldn't believe what she had just heard. In the rearview mirror, your eyes met for a second before you focused on the traffic again.

“Am I speaking some dead language?” She hissed, raising her voice and revealing the first crack in her self-control. “Our flights. You’re coming with me.”

“I thought you didn’t need me this time, Madam President,” you replied, turning a corner smoothly. “I made some plans for this weekend.”

“With Yizhuo?” she asked immediately, ironically.

“I think that my personal life is my own business, Madam President.”

It was as if the oxygen had suddenly vanished from the vehicle. Never, in the five years you'd been by her side, had you confronted her in such a tense and prolonged manner. Your usual prudence, that submissiveness she valued so much, had evaporated. You didn't care. You were so mentally exhausted from playing by her rules that the idea of ​​her firing you right then and there almost felt like a liberation.

Through the central mirror, you watched as Irene dug her right fingernails into her left forearm, through the thin fabric of her blouse. She was making a Herculean effort not to explode like a ticking time bomb right there.

“I don’t give a shit about your life.” She finally spat out, failing miserably in her attempt to hold back. The cold, calculating boss was gone; all that remained was a woman wounded in her pride and consumed by possessiveness. “Cancel your damn plans.”

You tightened your fingers against the leather steering wheel, feeling the pent-up anger pound against your temples. The car stopped in front of the ramp of the Irene Group building.

“Yes, President Bae.” You whispered back, stopping the engine.

Irene didn't wait for you to open the door. She got out of the car, slamming the door so hard the windows rattled, and walked purposefully toward the private elevators, leaving behind a trail of fury that froze all the employees in the lobby.

For the rest of the week, a kind of cold war took hold between both of you, leaving no one in the company indifferent. Every interaction felt like it could blow the whole building to bits.

As in the photography studio on the fifth floor, which was a hive of activity that day. Blinding white spotlights, reflector umbrellas, and countless racks displaying the new summer collection of Irene filled the space. In the center of the set, Karina posed with impressive ease in front of the camera, wearing a spectacular sand-colored linen outfit that highlighted her figure.

Irene watched the shoot from a few steps behind the photographer, her arms crossed, her analytical gaze capable of detecting an imperfect seam from ten meters away. Her mere presence kept the entire production team on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

You entered the studio silently during one of the breaks, carrying a silver tray with several porcelain cups for the rest of the team. Karina glanced at you and approached with a radiant smile, fanning her neck with her hand.

“Oh, how convenient,” Karina said, pointing at the cups curiously. “Has the president changed her tastes?” she asked, looking at the tray.

At that moment, Irene's sharp footsteps cut through the murmur of the attendees. She approached you with a slow but relentless stride. Her gaze completely ignored Karina and fixed directly on you.

“Where’s my coffee?” she asked directly. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it had that dangerous vibe that everyone in the company feared.

“I’ve made lemon tea, Madam President,” you said, standing tall and maintaining a strictly formal distance. “You mentioned a sore throat yesterday after the investors’ meeting. I thought it would be more appropriate.”

Irene looked at the teacup, then at you. Her eyes narrowed. She accepted the lemon tea you offered, but her fingers brushed against yours deliberately, thinking you'd finally put an end to her tantrum of the last few days. You immediately took a step back and withdrew your hand with businesslike coolness.

Karina, who was still by your side, held her breath. She looked down at the floor, pretending to smooth the folds of her skirt so as not to appear impertinent. The physical rejection, subtle but obvious to anyone paying attention, was a direct blow to Irene's pride.

“Next time,” she warned, gripping the mug so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Bring exactly what I ask for.”

“Understood, President Bae,” you replied, offering a perfect bowing, devoid of any hint of warmth.

She turned around and went back to the photographer to review the last photos. Karina looked at you, her eyes wide, making sure no one else could hear her before whispering:

“Can I ask what’s wrong with you two?” the model whispered. “You’ve been like this for three days. It looks like you’re going to kill each other at any moment.”

“It’s nothing, Miss Karina. It’s just work.” You replied, leaving the set with a completely expressionless face.

The next incident occurred the day before the trip. You had stayed in the archives on the ground floor reviewing some historical documents that Irene had requested. When you finally got on the elevator to return to the executive floor, the cubicle was already occupied by her and two managers from the finance department.

As you entered, silence filled the space.

“President.” You greeted the three present with a formal nod.

The managers returned your greeting timidly, aware of the atmosphere that had recently surrounded your boss. Irene remained in the background, arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the digital screen that displayed the floors.

“Do you have the reports I asked for?” she suddenly asked, interrupting her conversation with the financiers.

“They’re ready, President Bae. I’ll leave them on your tray as soon as we arrive.”

“Bring them to my office in person,” she ordered, in an unnecessarily authoritarian tone. “And make sure they don’t have the same stupid mistakes as Monday’s draft. I don’t have time to correct a beginner’s work.”

The two executives shifted uncomfortably, staring at the ceiling. Everyone in the company knew you never made mistakes like that; it was a gratuitous attack, a direct provocation to try and elicit a reaction from you, a pleading look, a glimpse of the devotion you used to show her.

But you didn't give her the satisfaction.

“You’re absolutely right, Madam President. My apologies for the oversight,” you replied with unflappable calm. “I’ll make sure it meets your standards.”

Your complete lack of reaction seemed to disarm her. Instead of submitting, your professional submissiveness felt like a concrete wall that kept her out. You saw through the reflection of the glass how Irene gritted her teeth, frustrated by her own inability to affect you.

When the elevator doors opened on the twentieth floor, you stepped out first to hold the door, keeping your head down as she walked past you, her face contorted with silent, contained fury.

The managers followed her out, exchanging a panicked glance. One of them patted you sympathetically on the shoulder as they passed, whispering a compassionate: “Cheer up, boy." They didn't know that the storm wasn't professional, but the roar of a volcano about to erupt.

The flight to Tokyo had undoubtedly been one of the most awkward moments in your relationship. Despite sharing adjacent seats in first class, the distance between your bodies felt like an insurmountable chasm.

During the flight hours, Irene remained hidden behind her screens and mask, while you pretended to review reports that you already knew by heart.

At the fashion show, the dynamic didn't change: you were her professional, efficient, and silent shadow. Not a knowing glance, not a touch, not a single hint that your skin knew each other intimately.

But the pressure cooker was about to explode, and the chosen stage was the after party in the enormous and luxurious hotel ballroom where most of the attendees were staying, including you.

The atmosphere was noisy. Designers, haute couture models, and industry magnates drank and chatted animatedly under crystal chandeliers that resembled stars.

In the midst of that sea of ​​luxury, your eyes, trained for five years not to lose sight of it, found it immediately.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Irene stood by one of the windows overlooking Tokyo Bay. She wore a spectacular red silk dress that clung to her figure like a second skin. But what captivated you wasn't her beauty, but her attitude.

She was having a very friendly conversation with a man in a suit, holding a glass of champagne and sharing natural, bright, and uninhibited laughter with him.

You were completely taken aback. Never, not once in five years, had you seen her treat anyone like that in public. With the rest of the world, she was an icy sphinx; with you, a storm of orders and demands. But with that man... she seemed like a normal woman. Happy.

Feeling your blood boil and a bitter, hot fury rising fiercely in your throat, you turned away. You needed to escape.

You took refuge in the guest bathroom, a space of polished marble and indirect lighting that was thankfully empty. You leaned against the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing it over your face in handfuls. The water dripped down your chin and soaked the collar of your shirt, but the fire in your chest didn't go out.

“You can’t be here, Yizhuo.” You said suddenly, looking at your own drenched reflection in the large mirror.

There she was, under the threshold of the men's restroom door. Ningning, stunning in an asymmetrical gown that accentuated her shoulders, leaned against the doorframe, looking at you with a sly smile as she let out a low laugh.

“Tough day?” She asked with feigned innocence.

“I’m not in the mood for your jokes. Not today, Ning.” You replied hoarsely, roughly drying your face with a paper towel.

“I know. I’ve known it for a long time, actually,” she admitted, taking a step into the bathroom. “But at least I allowed myself the luxury of playing with you a little longer. Of seeing how long it would take you to break.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning around and venting your frustration by pressing the wall-mounted soap dispenser too hard.

“She’s having a great time, don’t you think?” she said, tilting her head in clear reference to Irene.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you know that…” Ningning took another step, her foxy eyes fixed on your movements. “And if you keep hitting that thing, you’re going to put a hole in the wall.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your hand was still pressing the metal of the dispenser with ridiculous force, your knuckles were white, and you were trembling with pure, pent-up rage. You slowly released the device, swallowing hard, completely exposed to your former college classmate.

Without another word, you left the bathroom with Ningning following close behind. Back in the grand ballroom, your eyes searched the window almost masochistically. She was still there.

In fact, the situation had worsened: Irene was laughing freely, even playfully hitting the man's arm with her hand. A gesture of physical complicity that made your stomach churn.

“That’s Suho,” Ningning murmured beside you, crossing her arms. “The leader of the investment group EXO. They say they're the same age and were classmates. Like us.”

The mischievousness in Ningning's voice was meant to prick you, and it succeeded. The pain of jealousy transformed into a physical stabbing in your chest.

“Any dirty laundry about him that I should know?” you asked, trying to recapture your calculating assistant persona.

Ningning let out a soft laugh that attracted the attention of a couple of nearby waiters.

“You expect me to do your job?” She scoffed. “Although… I suppose I can help speed things up.”

Before you could react or take a step back, Ningning swiftly approached you. She stood on her tiptoes, placed one hand on your shoulder, and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek, right on your jawline.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered, feeling the heat rush up your neck, turning your cheeks bright red.

She slowly stepped back, savoring your reaction with a triumphant smile.

"Good luck tonight," she whispered as she passed by you. She turned and disappeared into the crowd of guests, leaving you completely confused and with your cheek burning.

You rubbed your face in frustration and looked up at the window again.

Your heart stopped.

Then she turned back to Suho and gave him another of her radiant smiles. It was the final blow. Something inside you, something you had kept locked away for five years of submission and impeccable discipline, finally shattered into a thousand pieces.

You were no longer the perfect assistant. You no longer cared about protocol, reputation, or the stares of the most powerful men in the country. You were burning up inside.

You walked briskly, weaving your way through the crowd at the Tokyo trade show with a determination that startled a couple of designers who crossed your path. Your eyes were fixed on them.

“President Bae, please excuse the interruption,” you said as you reached her. Your voice was a falsely rehearsed mask of courtesy, but your rage-filled eyes conveyed a very different message.

Suho broke off mid-sentence, blinking in surprise at your sudden and intrusive presence. Irene tensed completely, the smile vanishing from her face in an instant.

“What’s going on?” she asked, trying to regain her authoritative tone. “I’m in the middle of a conversation with Mr...”

“There’s been a last-minute crisis with the servers at the Seoul headquarters.” You lied pathetically, not caring that the excuse made absolutely no sense. “It requires your digital signature and immediate authorization in the suite. Right now.”

Before Irene could process the lie or Suho could intervene, you stepped forward, grabbed her forearm firmly, and pulled her, deliberately dragging her out of the circle.

Irene stifled a gasp of utter astonishment. In her entire life, no one—absolutely no one—had ever dared to touch her in such a physical, possessive, and violent way in public. Suho stood frozen, his glass half-finished, watching as the exemplary assistant led the president away by the arm as if she belonged to him.

“Let me go! Have you completely lost your mind?” she hissed through gritted teeth, trying to break free as you forced her to walk briskly down the corridor that led to the elevator lobby, away from the noise of the music.

As soon as the noise from the party died down behind the double doors, you abruptly let go of her in front of the metal elevator shafts. Irene turned toward you, her face flushed with anger and her eyes blazing.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” She was breathless, rubbing the area on her arm where your fingers had left an invisible but burning mark. “He’s my business partner! You’ve humiliated me in front of him! I could fire you right now and make sure you never find another job on this entire damned continent!”

“Just do it already!” you burst out, raising your voice for the first time in five years, closing the distance between you until you almost had her pinned against the wall. “I’m fed up with your games, Madam President. Fed up with how you treat me like an office piece of furniture. And now this? Smiling at that guy like that? You’ve never smiled at me like that! You only give me orders!”

“Because you’re my assistant!” she shouted back, completely losing it, her chest heaving beneath the silk of her dress. “And what I do in my private life or who I choose to smile at is none of your business! I saw you coming out of the bathroom with Yizhuo, and now you let her kiss you in the middle of the party! Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t see how you’re challenging me?”

"Does it bother you that another woman kisses me, President Bae? Or does it bother you that you don't have absolute control over me?"

The sharp sound of a doorbell interrupted the assault as if it were a boxing match.

The metal doors of the elevator in front of you swung open. The fury on your faces froze instantly when you saw a group of five suited businessmen and an international model inside the cabin. A deathly silence fell. The elevator's occupants looked at you with utter discomfort, having clearly heard some of the shouting.

Feeling a sudden pang of professional shame, you cleared your throat and took a step back, regaining your composure. Irene stiffly adjusted her dress, swallowing the humiliation of having been caught in such a hysterical state.

The businessmen hurriedly exited the elevator, avoiding you with knowing glances and stifled murmurs.

Irene, without saying a word and with her jaw clenched, entered the metal booth. You stayed outside for a second, but before the doors began to close, you stepped in behind her.

The doors sealed shut, leaving you alone in the mirrored and metal cubicle that began to ascend rapidly toward the bedroom floors.

The tension inside the elevator was almost electric, vibrating in the confined air. The recriminations continued, this time in a much lower tone of voice, a hissing, venomous whisper that only raised the temperature of the space.

“There’s no problem with the servers, is there?” she whispered, her back to you, staring at her own reflection. You didn’t answer, you just looked away. “I won’t tolerate disrespect of this magnitude. You’ve crossed every possible line.”

“Admit the truth. You were dying of jealousy,” you replied, approaching her from behind, feeling your own pulse quicken.

Irene turned around abruptly, intending to slap you across the face. But you didn't let her.

You caught her wrist in midair with a swift movement, pinning her firmly against the elevator mirror. Her ragged breath hit your chin. The scent of roses and the sweet champagne from her mouth enveloped you. She glared at you defiantly, but the flash of rage in her eyes quickly morphed into something far darker, hungry, and desperate.

“Shut up.” She moaned, losing the last barrier of her pride.

There were no more words.

Your lips collided with savage violence. It wasn't a kiss; it was a declaration of war. Your mouths devoured each other with a hunger built up from days of drought and feigned hatred. Your hands released her wrist to tangle in her hair, tugging gently to deepen the kiss, as she let out a throaty moan that was lost in your mouth.

The elevator stopped with a soft beep on the suite floor.

When the metal doors opened, the scene that was revealed in the hallway would have scandalized the entire board of directors and would have dominated the covers of all the most prestigious gossip magazines in the world.

President Bae was completely clinging to you. Her legs were tightly wrapped around your hips, and her arms were firmly around your neck, her fingers tangled in your messy hair. You held her in the air with your firm hands beneath her thighs, pressing her against you as you continued to devour her mouth with feverish desperation.

Barely aware of the outside world, you began walking down the hotel corridor, carrying her. Your steps were erratic, bumping into the carpeted walls a couple of times as she bit your lower lip hard, eliciting a hoarse groan from you.

You didn't stop, nor did you separate for a single second, until your bodies collided with the door of her suite. A dull thud that seemed to echo through the deserted hallway at that hour of the morning.

Without breaking the kiss, your lips still wet and hot, devouring each other, you reached out to swipe the magnetic card through the lock. The green beep of the reader barely had time to sound before you were already opening the door with your shoulder, stepping into the dimness of the bedroom and slamming it shut.

Inside, the air conditioning was cold, but your bodies radiated scorching heat.

You let her fall onto the mattress, but Irene wouldn't let you move away. She gripped the lapels of your jacket with possessive force, pulling you down so your weight pressed her down onto the sheets.

Her dark eyes, usually so calculating, shone with a wild, almost hysterical desire, clouded by the humiliation of her own jealousy.

“Do you like it when she touches you?” she whispered, her lips brushing against yours as she roughly unbuttoned your jacket. “Does it turn you on when that bitch Ningning puts her hands on you in front of me?”

"Don't talk about her now." You gasped against her mouth.

“I’ll talk about whatever I want.” She spat, giving your tie a sharp tug that pulled you closer. 

“You’re mine. Is that clear? I don’t want you looking at her, I don’t want you smiling at her, I don’t want you letting her touch you again.”

You couldn't believe how much you loved it when she got possessive with you, another false illusion you'd clung to. And it also excites you immensely.

But something had changed inside you that night. For the first time in a long time, you weren't going to be the submissive one who bowed his head. You wanted her to feel the same desperation and chaos that you had been carrying in your chest all this time.

You grabbed her wrists, pinning her against the mattress above her head. The tantalizing sight of her pale skin in the light filtering through the Tokyo window only made things worse.

“Look at me, Joohyun.” You forced her, using her real name with a firmness that made her gasp. “Look at me closely. This is the last time.”

She didn't understand your words, or perhaps she chose to ignore them, consumed by the urgency of her own body. She writhed beneath your grasp, arching her back to press her chest against yours.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she ordered, her authoritarian voice now cracking, almost pleading. “Fuck me now.”

“Not today.” You refused, teasing her. “Tonight it’s your turn to be a good girl for me.” You whispered in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

You leaned over her body, placing kisses first on her jaw, down her neck, and kissing every inch of exposed skin on her torso as you unbuttoned her shirt.

Her hands traveled to the back of your head quickly, ruffling your hair and reacting to every contact of your lips with her skin.

You reached her thighs and legs, still covered by those tailored black pants that accentuated her curves and her magnificent backside. A fleeting thought crossed your mind as a wicked smile formed on your lips. You had nothing left to lose.

You caressed her crotch, eliciting a few sighs from her, searching for the area where her pants were taut. You found it and pulled with both hands, tearing the fabric so forcefully that Irene sat up in surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she shouted angrily. “Are you aware of how much that costs?”

You simply kissed her passionately in response, while one of your hands violently entered the entrance you had created for yourself, making her moan in your mouth.

You led her back again against the mattress, caressing her completely wet vagina.

“I must confess I hate your yelling, boss.” You whispered against her swollen lips, retracing your steps back down.

You stumbled upon the mess you'd made and smiled brazenly, sliding the damp fabric of her panties aside. You were given free rein to contemplate her wet heat you had explored so many times before.

"Just eat me already, damn it." She practically begged you, losing patience.

“I’ll do it, I really will.” You said, licking your lips before proceeding, not as an order, but as part of your own impulses.

You buried your face against her crotch and began to trace every inch of skin you found with your tongue. Your mouth moved with a tortuous slowness, savoring her essence, sucking her clitoris with a rhythmic cadence that made her tremble.

The force of Irene's grip on your hair intensified, forcing your head down further, suffocating you against her as her mouth released completely obscene sounds, unworthy of someone of her status.

Two of your fingers made their way inside her vagina while your tongue continued to torment that much-desired sweet spot. She arched her hips, surrendering to your mouth.

Your fingers withdrew, and your tongue took over. The breathtaking taste of Irene assaulted your taste buds, a delight you could never tire of savoring. Your hands on her thighs drew her closer, devouring her completely.

When she was on the brink of the abyss, you roughly pulled her away from your face, leaving her panting on the sheets, her eyes clouded.

"Don't think I'm going to forget all this just because of some orgasms."

Her mouth fell open, stifling a muffled moan, when, without warning, you thrust your entire erect penis inside her. Seconds later, you were pounding into her with your nightly ferocity.

You positioned yourself over her, pressing your full weight against her body. Your dominant hand rose and gripped her neck, not tightly enough to hurt her, but with enough pressure to assert your dominance.

The stimulation was received immediately by her body. Her vaginal walls gripped your member with a force and tightness that almost made you ejaculate right then and there.

You went deeper with a single thrust, making her feel filled with you.

“This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” You whispered in her ear as your thrusts became more aggressive and faster. Irene’s eyes rolled back, her nails digging into your shoulders, causing a pain so sweet you barely felt it.

"You are nothing but a slut, Madam President."

That word, laden with truth in the intimacy of the bed, was all her body needed. Joohyun tensed completely, seeking release; her thighs trembled and contracted wildly as she came loudly against your cock.

You kissed her hard, silencing her spasms, surrounding her body with your arms while your penis remained deep inside her vagina, still, letting yourself be squeezed by the delicious and intense pulsations of her orgasm.

But the rage and desire that had built up over days couldn't be satisfied with just one round. You wanted to break her, you wanted her to see herself as she truly was when she was with you.

You stood up with her in your arms. Irene was once again hanging from your neck, manageable, reduced to a body you controlled at will.

“We’re not finished yet.” You whispered against her lips.

You began to lift her into the air, slowly, torturing her with the distance, until only the tip of your glans connected you. With a sudden, downward thrust, you emptied your full size back inside her, eliciting a cry that echoed off the walls.

There you were, fucking your boss in the most brutal way possible, in front of the window overlooking the suite's balcony, from where you could see the imposing and cold Tokyo night illuminated by hundreds of lights.

You walked a couple of steps until you were standing in front of the life-size mirror in the room, which allowed you to see the reflection of the sensuality of the moment.

“Look at us, President Bae.” You forced yourselves to change your position.

Now she had her back to you, facing the mirror, bouncing heavily on your member while her hands rested on the cold glass. Her eyes widened at the sight of her own reflection: the red dress undone, her breasts rising and falling, her face contorted with lust.

“Fuck…” she moaned, mesmerized and ashamed by such an explicit vision of her own submission. Never before had she seen herself in such a state of utter vulnerability.

You sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her pinned over you without breaking eye contact with the mirror. 

You slipped your arms under her armpits, moving your hands up to the back of her neck, interlacing your fingers to force her arms behind her head in a full Nelson position. She opened her eyes in fear, understanding what was coming.

“What are you going to…”

A sharp scream cut off her question as you began to thrust into her from below with a ferocity never before seen. The mirror reflected the stark image: the great President Bae Joohyun, the woman who made entire boards of directors tremble, being used and bent like a piece of meat by her own assistant.

“Nobody knows your body better than me, boss.”

The sentence was firm, your hips were hitting against her with an unrelenting rhythm.

After several savage thrusts in that position of absolute submission, Irene's body collapsed. A powerful, fiery jet of squirt shot directly from her vagina, splashing the mirror completely and fogging the glass with a blurry, hot imprint of her surrender.

You both lay back on the bed, breathing heavily after that intense display of passion. Your arms were completely around her from behind, possessive, all-encompassing. But even after that, Irene was still a caged lioness.

The orgasm left her so overwhelmed and blinded by passion that, for a moment, the roles blurred. Irene's pride transformed into a desperate need to possess you, to mark you in her own way.

She slipped from your arms and fell to her knees on the carpet in front of you. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smeared, and her breathing was ragged. She looked up at you with a mixture of devotion and savagery you'd never seen in her before.

Without asking permission, which she never did, she grabbed your swollen member with both hands and brought it to her mouth with an almost animalistic desperation.

There was no gentleness in her blowjob. Irene thrust your penis deep into her throat, ignoring the gagging and tears that began to well up in her eyes due to the depth of her frantic movements.

Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, digging her nails into your skin as she moved up and down with chaotic speed, sucking you with a rawness that made you throw your head back and groan loudly.

She stared at you intently as she did it, devouring you with her eyes, voluntarily suffocating herself in order to prove to you that, even on her knees on the ground, she was capable of breaking your will.

You managed to sit up again. You brushed aside some stray strands of hair that fell across her forehead and, taking a handful of hair in your closed fist, helped her continue swallowing your member.

A few seconds later she broke free to breathe, huge bubbles of saliva escaping her mouth as she exuberantly slurped the hot fluids. She was resting, but she didn't let you.

Her hands continued to grip you tightly, moving up and down fiercely against your skin, reddish and taut from the night's continuous, violent friction. But again, there was no room for pain.

“You belong to me.” She said, as if possessed, and you frowned. “Never forget that, damn it.”

You didn't allow her to subdue you with her mouth again. Instead, you picked her up like a sack and dropped her onto the bed. Irene bounced against the rumpled sheets and, far from being intimidated, turned over instantly. She crawled toward you, staring intently, like a wild animal about to pounce on its prey.

You knelt in front of her. You gripped her shoulders to stop her advance and pressed your forehead to hers, so close that your ragged breaths mingled into a single hot gasp.

You slowly raised your hand, holding it suspended in the air. Irene glanced sideways at your raised palm; her pupils dilated, but she immediately fixed her dark eyes on you again. She didn't flinch. On the contrary, she lifted her chin, silently daring you to go all the way. She was challenging you.

“You’re a fucking pain in the ass, Madam President.” You said in a hoarse voice that vibrated between your lips.

Your hand came down with violent speed, slamming squarely against her ass. The sharp, brutal impact echoed loudly off the suite walls, leaving an instant, burning mark on her pale skin.

Irene's entire body convulsed violently at the impact, but she didn't take her eyes off you. Her nails dug into the mattress, and she clenched her jaw so tightly that her features tightened, stifling a scream. 

She wasn't going to let you win so easily; she wasn't going to give you the satisfaction of seeing her broken by physical pain, and you were perfectly aware of it.

“On your side,” you ordered, and to your surprise, she agreed without hesitation. She flopped onto her left side without breaking eye contact, maintaining that feline, challenging gaze fixed on your movements as you settled in front of her.

You lay down in front of her, just millimeters away, feeling the heat radiating from her burning body. You joined together side by side, your legs intertwined with her in a desperate embrace.

You began with deep, slow thrusts, laden with silent agony.

As the minutes passed, your body inevitably picked up the pace again. Your hands slid down to her hips, gripping them with a force that would leave your fingertips imprinted on her skin, while she threw her arms back to encircle you in a suffocating embrace.

There was no longer room for insults, for Ningning's barbs, or for stupid domination games. Only two people remained, possessed by a destructive lust.

The thrusts grew increasingly ferocious and uncontrolled. No trace of tenderness remained between you. It was an act of desperate passion, between two bodies that knew each other too well, surrendering themselves completely to one another.

Tears welled up in her eyes again, sliding down her cheeks and mingling with the sweat in a torrent of uncontrolled moans, muffled screams, and hoarse sobs that she no longer tried to hold back.

She tried to hide her wet face in the crook of your neck for protection, but you wouldn't let her. You needed to see her at every second, you needed her to be real.

Your hands cradled her face, drenched in sweat and tears, and you kissed her tenderly. A desperate caress that contrasted sharply with the savage punishment your hips continued to inflict below. You felt yourself melting inside her, the walls of her vagina contracting in hot spasms that pushed you to the edge.

Irene hugged you even tighter, moving her hips erratically and frantically against yours, seeking a new release.

“I’m coming! I’m coming! Fuuuuck! I’m coming!”

That scream, with which she completely lost her voice, made her surrender to the force of the spasm that shook her from head to toe.

And it finally broke you. The overload of days of frustration, the pain of humiliation, the poisonous jealousy, and the love that was killing you exploded inside you.

“Joohyun!”

You screamed her name against her mouth, flooding her insides with a torrential release that seemed to empty your soul.

You reached the climax together in a final spasm that left you completely drained, trembling and embraced in the middle of the bed. And hoping that no neighbor had witnessed your noisy, mutual destruction.

The silence that settled in the room after that stormy sexual encounter was heavier than ever. You were both sweaty, exhausted, with hardly any strength left in your muscles.

The Tokyo moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating your entwined, sweaty bodies on the disheveled sheets. Irene's chest rose and fell at a more measured pace, her head resting on your chest.

“God, what the hell are we doing?” you asked yourself aloud, covering your face with your hands. “We can’t go on like this, Irene.”

You could feel her fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin, one of those rare and silent displays of affection that were only allowed in the darkness of the night.

She didn't answer, she gave you a look of complete exhaustion and settled herself on your bare chest, falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

The pleasure had evaporated, leaving behind a suffocating emptiness. You had just given her your body with the greatest intensity of your life, and yet, you knew that in a few hours, when the sun rose, you would once again be the assistant walking three steps behind her. You would become invisible again.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, you slipped out of bed.

Irene let out a soft groan of protest at the loss of heat, but turned over and continued sleeping, oblivious to everything else.

You looked at the woman you loved one last time, sleeping peacefully between the silk sheets. You left the suite quietly, heading for the hotel bar. Your chest ached so much you could barely breathe, but the decision was made. You couldn't keep destroying yourself for her.

Two days later, back in Seoul, the morning began like any other. You hadn't spoken directly since that night. There were no recriminations, no furtive glances.

You walked confidently into the company building. You weren't carrying drinks or the marketing report she was expecting. Just a small white envelope in your trembling right hand.

You walked straight to Irene's office, ignoring the curious glances you attracted as you passed. You opened the door without knocking. Irene looked up from her computer, her usual cold, professional expression ready to give you some first-morning order. As if nothing had happened.

But you got ahead of yourself.

You advanced with a firm step, placed the white envelope exactly in the center of her glass desk, and took a step back, joining your hands in front of you.

“What is this?” she asked, frowning and staring at the paper with her dark eyes.

“My resignation, President Bae. It is irrevocable.” You said, in a voice so calm and firm that it forced her to look at you with eyes wider than ever before.

“B-but, President Bae…” the finance officer began, pointing with trembling fingers at a page of the report. “According to projections, the shortfall will be recovered by January.”

“There are 8 months until January!” She slammed her palm on the desk. “What do you plan to do in the meantime, spend hours chatting at the coffee machine?”

The defeated man shrank in his seat, watching as she threw his report onto the office floor.

“And you!” she shouted, pointing at the head of accounting. “Does your wife know you spend your work hours flirting with the new interns?”

He just lowered his gaze, unable to articulate a response, too afraid to even try.

“If you don’t fix this within a week, you can consider yourselves fired!” She leaned back in the presidential chair. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, President Bae!” they answered in unison, leaving—or rather, escaping—from that hungry lioness's cage as quickly as possible.

You were waiting outside for your turn, and you were almost run over by the two men who were running away in a panic. They knew they had a countdown to complete or they would face Bae Joohyun's true fury.

And now it was your turn to deal with that beast that would tear the head off anyone who dared disturb her in that current state. You adjusted your tie, filled your lungs with air, and, with a courage you didn't know you had, you entered the office.

As you walked in, you saw her. She was sitting in her enormous presidential chair, which only emphasized the incredible difference between her small stature and the massive chair. If you glanced under the desk, you could see her feet dangling without touching the floor.

It was hard to believe that so much fury could fit into such a small body.

She lay turned to her right, gazing out the window with her eyes closed, her hands massaging both sides of her neck, trying to regain her composure. The current silence contrasted sharply with the storm of just moments before.

“President Bae.” You called in a firm voice.

She opened her eyes, still filled with rage, and turned the chair towards you with a brusque movement.

"What!?"

You instinctively closed one eye, like someone facing a powerful hurricane and fearing being swept away by the wind.

“Miss Karina has arrived,” you announced, trying to appear as calm as possible.

“So what the hell are you waiting for to let her in?” she retorted, muttering something else under her breath that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Right away, President. Excuse me.”

You gave a slight bow and left quickly. Just a few seconds later, you came back in, followed by the incredible Yoo Jimin, better known as Karina in the fashion world: the star model of the label Irene.

“Karina, my dear,” Irene greeted her. Her face changed completely. She got up from her chair, walked around the desk, and ran with short, quick steps until she reached her model to hug her.

“You need to calm down, unnie. It’s not good for your health,” the young girl commented, returning the gesture with a smile.

Meanwhile, you were already crouched down, picking up the various sheets of paper scattered across the carpet. You knew Irene needed her workspace to be spotless.

“How did you and Minjeong get on your honeymoon?” the older woman asked curiously about her other model.

“Bali is a stunning destination, truly. The beaches were paradise and it was such a…spiritual trip. Or that is what they say, because we were too busy to leave our hotel room.”

That unexpected confession hit you like a bombshell. The sound of the paper crumpling under your hand betrayed you, and letting them know that you could hear them perfectly. Both women turned their heads toward you, remembering that you were still in the room.

Your boss's eyes were once again like two icy daggers fixed on you. She was judging you.

“Why are you still here?” she asked rhetorically. “Get out.”

You stood up, somewhat embarrassed by the amused smile Karina was giving you, and bowed to both of them before leaving the office.

You exhaled with relief as you stepped out of that glass prison. You had survived, at least for the time being.

The truth was, being the personal assistant to someone like Irene wasn't a job for just anyone. But that's what your life had been like for the past five years since you joined this company.

You remember as if it were yesterday the moment you first walked through the metal doors of the lobby with your intern badge. The tough years of university had paid off, but you knew you couldn't relax; this was only the beginning of your professional career.

You quickly adapted to the role of the new guy in the office, taking on the tasks no one else wanted as part of the initiation rite: endless photocopies that included changing ink cartridges, emptying the wastebaskets in every cubicle on your floor, and reviewing, over and over again, endless columns of numbers for errors or anomalies. Oddly enough, this task was one of your favorites because, after all, that's what you were there for.

The first time you met President Bae in person was during the dreaded "Monthly Evaluation." It was a regular occurrence for the president to walk through every floor of the building once a month, observing, analyzing, and thoroughly evaluating the work of each employee, starting with the managers and ending with you, the lowest-level employees.

The atmosphere in your department turned icy, and the only sound was the echo of heels clicking on the floor. Not a single employee pretended to work, no one paused for a few seconds to stretch, and of course, no one looked up from their screen or dared to directly confront the boss.

It felt like a high school exam, and she was the strict teacher the whole class feared.

Unaware of this protocol, you continued with the task of photocopying the necessary documents for your colleagues, distributing them to their different workstations.

However, as you returned to your seat, you stopped dead in your tracks: someone had taken your seat.

Bae Joohyun.

You jumped when her eyes scanned you from head to toe. There she was, arms crossed, with such a serious expression that anyone else probably would have fainted on the spot.

“Your face doesn’t look familiar, who are you?” she asked, standing up and straightening to look you directly in the eyes. Her head barely reached the height of your chin.

The rest of the workers continued without taking their eyes off their screens, but their auditory glands were alert, ready for battle, as they silently said a prayer for the poor intern.

You began to stutter. Your words simply refused to leave your mouth. You had heard countless stories about the boss, told by your most senior colleagues. She was as respected as she was feared, and her mere presence commanded more respect than an entire army. But you never truly understood how much of it was real until you stood before her.

“He’s the new intern, President Bae.” Fortunately, her then-personal assistant intervened, coming to your defense. “The one we hired through the new agreement with the city council.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing what had happened, though her expression remained unchanged. “Welcome to the company. I hope you’re enjoying everything.”

That's when your brain finally seemed to react.

“Yes, President Bae! Everything is really great! It’s a pleasure to meet you and to be able to work for you!” You shouted, bending down in a rather exaggerated bow, a product of nerves.

She walked past you while you were still in that position, without flinching in the slightest.

“I expect good work from you.” She said, walking purposefully toward the elevator. “And the same goes for everyone else” Her voice was much louder this time, making sure every living thing on that floor could hear her.

"Yes!"

And as if it were fate, during the following weeks you ran into Irene several more times in different everyday situations.

Like that early morning, when cheerful employees were chatting about their weekends inside the crowded elevator. You managed to squeeze in just before the doors closed, but someone else pressed the button from outside at the last second, causing them to reopen and reveal President Bae's face.

The silence was instantaneous. The lively conversation stopped abruptly the moment the woman stepped into the elevator. The tension in the air became so thick that you decided to try and end it.

“Good morning, President Bae.”

“Good morning, Madam President!” the rest of the employees suddenly exclaimed, remembering their manners.

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, assessing your friendly greeting.

"Good morning."

“Did you have a good weekend?” you continued, ignoring the “you’re dead” looks your colleagues were giving you from behind.

“Fashion show in New York. Lots of work.” The answer was as brief as it was easy to understand.

“Don’t forget to get enough rest; the company needs you, President.”

At that moment, the elevator stopped on your floor and the doors opened. The rest of the employees quickly exited the elevator on your side, leaving you alone inside the metal structure.

Before leaving, you turned around and gave it one last look.

"Have a good day at work, boss." You said goodbye with another bow.

You didn't catch the subtle smirk that crossed Irene's lips before the doors closed again.

Days later, you both happened to be at the coffee machine on the fifth floor, famous for having slightly superior quality beans. When it was your turn, you felt a presence behind you.

“No sugar, huh?. Strange for someone so young.”

Irene's voice, just inches from your ear, sent a shiver down your spine. She had stood slightly on her tiptoes to peek at your selection on the screen.

“Sugar takes away the true flavor of coffee. I don’t judge those who add it, but it’s not my style,” you explained, holding the warm cup in your hands.

“In cases like this, sugar is practically a necessity. The quality of these machines is rubbish,” she remarked with a grimace of disgust. “Although it’s funny that we share the same taste.”

“Here you go, then,” you said, offering her your untouched coffee. A gesture that caught her completely off guard. “Someone as important as you can’t waste time queuing for mediocre coffee.”

Irene recovered from her surprise, closed her eyes and let out a snort that sounded like ironic laughter, but accepted the glass.

“Hurry up,” She said as she walked away. “I don’t pay you to stand there all day.”

“Yes, President Bae.”

As the days went by, you learned through another piece of gossip among colleagues that the president used to change assistants frequently, or rather, it was they who resigned from the position.

She had assistants of all kinds. Men and women, people she trusted, some with many years at the company, others who had worked on the most important projects.

None of them had lasted more than half a year by her side.

It was well known that the president's demeanor was not that of a fairytale princess. She was easily irritated, shouted at anyone who crossed her path, and exuded an icy aura of fear that would frighten even the bravest hero.

In the office, some joked about the selection of the next assistant, something that was similar to the selection of tributes in the Hunger Games.

One day that same week, you had to stay late working your first night. It was all because of some statistical charts that arrived in your email late in the afternoon.

Night fell, and the office emptied until only your desk lamp remained lit. But you managed to finish and assign them to their respective reports before stretching out in your chair and gathering your things to go home.

In the lobby, only the night shift security guards remained; even the receptionists had left by this time.

Behind you, you heard the other elevator beep as it stopped on that floor. You turned around curiously, finding President Bae walking straight toward you again, as you stood halfway to the exit.

“Are you going home, President Bae?” you asked, walking alongside her once she caught up with you.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” she replied, ignoring your question with her usual coldness.

“Some work piled up, but don’t worry, it’s all finished now.”

"Fine."

When she reached the door, Irene had to step back. Outside, the sky was falling. It was raining cats and dogs.

You opened your umbrella, which you always carried in your backpack for emergencies like this. She started rummaging through her designer handbag, grumbling. Without an assistant, simple details like an umbrella escaped her always-busy mind.

“Damn it,” she cursed to herself, realizing she had nothing to protect herself from the rain.

“Take mine, President Bae.”

She raised her gaze until she met your eyes.

“No.” Short and sweet, as usual.

“My bus stop isn’t far, I can run. Or would you prefer I call you a taxi?” You continued talking, proposing possible solutions.

“Give it here and shut up.” She said, snatching the umbrella from you. She paused for a second. “But on one condition.”

"You tell me." You were somewhat confused now.

“Come to my office tomorrow.” You swallowed hard; that was new to you.

"Am I in trouble for being late with the work?"

“Just come…by the way, isn’t that your bus?” she asked, looking at the vehicle parked at the stop in the distance.

“Oh yes, I have to go! See you tomorrow!” You started running, with your hands on your head trying to protect yourself from the rain under Irene’s watchful eye.

“This guy…”

The next day, as you had been summoned, you entered the president's office for the first time.

“Here you are.” She said, taking off her reading glasses and shifting her gaze from the monitor on her desk to you. “First of all, thank you for the umbrella.” She said, handing back the folded object she had used the night before.

"It was nothing, you needed it more than I did." You said nervously, like a naughty child called to the principal's office, fearing his parents will be notified of his behavior.

“Have you ever thought about working as an assistant?”

The sudden question threw you off.

“Assistant?” You asked again like an idiot.

“That’s what I said. As I’m sure you know, my last assistant quit last week, and I need one to help me with things… Well, like last night.”

“I’m just an accounting trainee, President Bae.” You tried to excuse yourself, but it was too late. Irene had you in her sights.

“You have proven to be attentive and efficient. You are exactly the profile I am looking for,” she said, taking a sip of coffee.

“You’ll have a permanent contract, a higher salary, and your own office. Of course, the workload will be much greater, but you’ll work hand in hand with me, day in and day out.”

Has anyone ever been stupid enough to deny Bae Joohyun anything? You didn't know, and you weren't going to be the first.

You don't quite remember how you responded to her offer, or even if you accepted it or if she simply closed the deal on her own. All you know is that from that day forward, you became not only the president's assistant, but also known as "The Chosen One."

A nickname the other workers gave you for outlasting anyone who had ever outlived her. Months quickly turned into years, and you had already spent five years working side-by-side with that woman, almost 24 hours a day, every day of the week.

At first you were completely out of your element, nervous and hesitant. But she was right, you had a gift for this.

There was only one "small" inconvenience that you discovered much later: Bae Joohyun's screaming.

You not only had to put up with them in the professional atmosphere, but also outside of it, as you would do later that same night at Irene's home. ************************************************************

“Deeper!”

Irene was screaming, completely naked, lying on her back on her enormous bed, while you, also completely naked, were penetrating her with violent movements that made your sweaty bodies shake.

“Are you deaf? I said deeper!”

Over time you had discovered that Irene's despotic and authoritarian attitude didn't stay confined to the company when its doors closed; she took it with her everywhere. Including the bedroom.

You gripped the sheets tightly in your hands on both sides of her head, deepening your thrusts just as she had demanded.

“Just like that, fuck!” She shouted, throwing her head back, clouded with excitement.

You had learned so much about the president by spending so much time with her every day, things that no one else in the world thought they knew. Things like the fact that she didn't like fried chicken or that she loved red velvet cake.

Or that, after a long day at work where everyone seemed committed to driving her crazy, all she wanted when she got home was to be pinned down against the mattress, taking a huge, hot load of your semen deep inside her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, keep going!” There were Bae Joohyun’s screams again.

Your face remained serious, static, as if you were still encased in that tailored suit, walking through the company's corridors.

However, your hips were unable to move backward. After all, it was the president's wish: to receive your violent and raw thrusts that made her cum like a fountain.

When her body trembled beneath yours, you knew the end was near, and that you had to finish the job.

You tensed every muscle in your body to give her a few final glorious thrusts before stopping abruptly, letting out a guttural growl as your load spilled inside your boss.

“Oh yes!” she screamed in ecstasy, accepting your fluids while experiencing her own orgasm. *********************************************************

Minutes later, you found yourself sitting on the side of the bed, your head in your hands. More mentally than physically exhausted. She, on the other hand, lay on the bed, trying to catch her breath amidst the excess of your fluids staining the sheets.

When she regained consciousness, she turned to the small bedside table next to the bed and took a case of birth control pills from the drawer, taking one immediately.

Your position didn't change until you felt her stand up and walk around the bed until she was standing in front of you.

She removed the hands that were hiding your face and guided them to rest on her hips as she sat between your legs. She took your chin and gently lifted your face until it was within your field of vision.

You shuddered to have that incredible woman so close, even though less than five minutes ago you were destroying her.

“Have you reserved a table for my lunch with Seulgi and Wendy?” She asked, caressing your cheek with the back of her hand.

“I did it this afternoon, Madam President.” You replied almost submissively. What had this woman turned you into?

“Good boy.” She whispered, closing the distance between you with a kiss that was more of a brush of lips, as fleeting as it was addictive. Your body responded by tightening its grip on her hips; you wanted to prevent that moment from ending.

But you knew you couldn't hold her back much longer, and she quickly got back to her feet, swaying her hips seductively as she headed for the shower.

“Eat something when you get home, okay?” she said, pausing in the doorway. “I need you to be energized for tomorrow’s meeting.” She gave you a small smile, one of those smiles meant only for you, and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you there alone.

You remained motionless for a few more seconds, staring in wonder at the door through which she had disappeared. Only when the sound of hot water hitting the shower tiles filled the bedroom did you manage to snap out of your trance.

You picked up your clothes lying on the bedroom floor. Irene had undressed you with a ferocious hunger, tearing off each garment without regard for the value of the fabric.

It was fascinating and terrifying at the same time: all the business fury she built up during the mornings transformed into sexual passion when the sun set. And you, willingly, became her only prey.

You dressed hurriedly, buttoning your shirt, and quietly left President Bae's luxurious residence. Your car was waiting parked in front of the main entrance. It was a sleek, high-end black vehicle, impeccably clean and understated. The same car in which you spent hours driving her to her fashion shows, charity dinners, and business meetings.

Before starting the engine, you glanced at yourself in the rearview mirror. With your fingers, you tried to fix your disheveled hair and erase the traces of the chaos that had just occurred in that house.

You stepped on the gas, putting distance between yourself and a place that, despite the pleasure, was squeezing your chest until you couldn't breathe. You needed to get away before it intensified.

You didn't drive straight to your apartment, completely ignoring your boss's advice to get some rest. Your mind was telling you to make a pit stop first.

After a fifteen-minute journey, you parked in an alley in front of a secluded, worn-out bar that rarely housed more than half a dozen regular customers and which, over time, had become your favorite place to unwind.

The colorful, flashing lights of the slot machines illuminated your face. In the background, a couple of men were making a racket during a game of pool, while the rest were simply drinking peacefully.

"Whisky, please." You ordered, sitting down on one of the empty bar stools. The bartender arrived with your drink immediately.

In one gulp, you poured the entire contents directly into your mouth. You felt the intense heat as it slid down your throat. You slammed the empty glass down on the wooden counter and, with a slight nod, signaled the waiter to refill it.

How had you gotten into this situation? It was the question that had been on your mind for far too long.

How did you end up being the sex toy of the all-powerful Bae Joohyun?

To answer that question, we would have to go back approximately four years, to the day of your first anniversary as Irene's assistant.

4 years ago.

That day marked exactly one year since you had taken on the role of President Bae's personal assistant. It was a cold December night at that luxurious private resort in the heart of the Swiss Alps.

Twelve months of sixteen-hour days or more, of anticipating any of her demands, of understanding that the tapping of her fingers on the table meant that you had to end the meeting immediately.

You had worked incredibly hard to keep the job you had sacrificed so much to get, even though it was so different from your previous position. And you had succeeded; you had not only silenced everyone in the company, you had shattered the previous assistants' record for tenure.

You had become indispensable.

Because from the very first moment you proved to be different from the rest. You had never seen Bae Joohyun as a tyrannical boss, but as a woman whose only sin was pouring her heart and soul into the work she loved.

That night, the Christmas gala dinner was being held for the largest European investors in the textile sector. The luxury was suffocating: haute couture dresses accompanied by diamond jewelry valued at millions of dollars, countless bottles of champagne from the most exclusive brands, and a constant social hypocrisy in every corner of the event.

As her assistant, your job was to stay two steps behind her, keeping an eye on the schedule, remembering every detail about the other guests, and acting as a human shield against the creepy businessmen who tried to approach her with ulterior motives.

Because Irene wasn't just one of the most successful businesswomen in the world, she was also a woman of undeniable beauty. Have you ever wondered how she was still single? Any man would want a woman as stunning as your boss by his side.

She was impeccable throughout the evening, chatting and sharing laughs with other guests. Laughter that was completely fake and screamed for her to get out of there as soon as possible. Because Irene didn't hate people, but she needed space and freedom in her comfort zone to feel at ease.

That night you learned two new lessons:

1. When Irene feels uncomfortable, she drinks all the glasses of champagne that are served to her.

2. Irene got drunk too easily.

When the gala finally ended, after 2:00 a.m., you helped her to her private suite on the top floor of the five-star hotel. The hallway was dimly lit, and the silence was broken only by the icy wind rattling the windows.

As they crossed the threshold of her room, the warmth of the lit fireplace enveloped them suddenly. Irene took off her stiletto heels with a sigh of relief, swaying slightly. Her hair, a peculiarly pinkish shade, the result of a radical makeover on her last visit to the hairdresser, fell haphazardly over her forehead, and her cheeks displayed an unusual flush caused by alcohol.

“Get our schedule ready for tomorrow…” She slurred her words, leaning against the wall to stop the world from spinning around her. “We have to be at the airport at ten.”

“The schedule is finished and the bags are packed, Madam President. Everything is under control.” You replied professionally, placing her bag on the dresser. “You should rest. It’s been a long night.”

Illuminated only by the ambient light, Irene turned slowly, looking at you with eyes and a slight smile that no longer had the coldness of the office, but a fog of tiredness and vulnerability that made your heart ache.

“One year…” She whispered, taking an unsteady step towards you.

"Excuse me?"

“You’ve been with me for a year. Today’s your anniversary.” She said, stopping just inches from your chest. She gave off a soft scent of sweet wine and her rose perfume. “Everyone else ran away. They called me a monster behind my back. They thought I didn’t hear their stupid nicknames at the office. But you… you’re still here.”

“I’m just doing the job you assigned me, Madam President.” You replied, trying to appear unperturbed in front of the woman who, to you, was the most beautiful woman on the planet.

“It’s so much more…You treat me well…” Her voice cracked slightly, losing all the strength of the CEO of the Irene Group. “You treat me like a person.”

Your stomach lurched. Seeing the ruthless Bae Joohyun seeking solace in her employee was a red line you knew you shouldn't cross.

“Like I said, it’s my job.” You repeated, your throat dry, trying to back away. “I just do what…”

“Don’t give me textbook answers.” She interrupted abruptly, closing the distance and gripping your tie with surprising strength for her size.

“Look at me.”

She forced you to stare into her eyes. The warmth from the fireplace seemed to rise. Before you could utter another word of professional courtesy, Irene stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to yours.

It was an awkward, fiery kiss, fueled by alcohol and the desperation of someone who has been alone at the top for too long.

For a second, your brain shut down. But sanity returned with a jolt, and you gently took her by the shoulders to pull her away.

“President Bae… no. You are drunk. You don’t know what you are doing,” you said, your breath ragged. “If we do this, you will regret it tomorrow, and everything will change. Let me call room service to bring you some water.”

The rejection seemed to ignite a spark of rage within her. Joohyun's vulnerability vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced by the authoritarian mask of President Bae, albeit distorted by intoxication. Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Are you daring to disobey me?” she hissed, grabbing your tie again and yanking it down roughly, forcing you to duck and inhale the deadly smell of alcohol emanating from her mouth. “I’m your boss. I decide what is done and what isn’t in this room. And I’m ordering you to stay.”

“Irene, please…” You begged, using her name for the first time, overwhelmed by the closeness of her body against yours.

“Shut up. That’s an order.”

She pushed you against the wooden wall with a fervor that left you breathless. Her hands began to unbutton your shirt with clumsy but determined fingers.

Looking back, you should have run away from that room. You might have lost your job, but you would have saved yourself a lot of trouble.

But you would also have lost Irene, and that would have been a mistake you weren't willing to make at that moment.

You're not quite sure if it was because you practically shared your life with her, but before you knew it, you'd fallen deeply in love with your boss, and it wasn't a platonic love like you have for someone you admire. No, your love for Irene was genuine.

As genuine as it was stupid. A year ago you were just a clumsy intern, how could she even notice someone like you? You weren't in the same league. But that mattered very little to your heart; once it was won, there was no way to win it back.

So, being caught between a wall and a woman you admired, desired, and loved, you took the only viable path: to let yourself be carried away by the moment.

You grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards you, your lips meeting again. This time the kiss was more desperate and hungry. Your lips collided forcefully, beginning a battle of tongues inside your mouths.

It was nothing more than a false mirage, nothing like you had dreamed of so many times, and you knew perfectly well that this would bring a series of serious problems. But there was no turning back. Your heart had won this battle against your head, but the war had only just begun.

Intoxicated by that scent that only she possessed, you guided your lips to the visible part of her neck. Your soft, sensual kisses drew moans and sighs from her, like throwing gasoline on a raging fire.

She quickly returned your kisses in the same area while caressing every last corner of your now bare torso, helping you to get rid of that annoying shirt by letting it fall to the ground while she nibbled at your earlobe.

Another kiss on your neck, this time making sure to leave the mark of her matte pink lipstick in plain sight. She was marking you as her. Reminding you that, like everything else related to the company, you belonged to her.

Her hands deftly began unbuckling your belt. It seemed the last shred of sanity you had left awakened at that moment, trying to stop her, but Irene slammed your hands down with a blow that echoed throughout the room.

Your pants fell to the floor and she slowly bent down until she was level with your crotch, which showed a large, already formed bulge struggling against the elastic of your underwear, making you look entirely at her mercy.

You leaned your back against the wooden wall, your chest heaving. Your breathing became even more erratic the moment Irene's tongue made contact with the fabric of your underwear, licking up some of the pre-seminal fluid that had leaked out a few minutes earlier during foreplay.

Without hesitation, she grabbed your underwear with both hands and slid it down, freeing your swollen member from its cotton prison. You looked down to watch as she licked her lips, her eyes never leaving your penis.

You sighed as her fingers, cold from the freezing night, contrasted with the heat radiating from your body. Her face, her head, and especially her lips were so close to your member that you felt your legs wouldn't hold firm much longer.

“President Bae…” You didn’t get to finish the sentence as you felt her tighten her grip on your cock.

“I haven’t given you permission to speak,” she replied, annoyed by your constant opposition.

A muffled moan escaped your throat. The subtle pain of her grip mingled instantly with a rush of pleasure so intense it made you clench your teeth. Irene's gaze remained fixed on you, icy yet burning, relishing your willing submission.

She didn't want a lover who showered her with flowers or chocolates. She was looking for a body that would obey, one where she could unleash her frustration and find solace from her loneliness. And once again, you were the perfect fit for the job.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, she opened her mouth and slid her wet tongue over the sensitive tip of your member, descending along its entire length with an almost tortuous slowness that made you clench your fists against the wall.

The warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips devoured your intimacy, while her fingers, still cold from the alpine winter, encircled the base of your cock to contain the trembling of your thighs.

“Irene…” You pleaded in an inaudible whisper, swaying your hips forward almost unconsciously.

She stopped abruptly, parting her lips just enough to look at you sternly.

“What have I told you about talking?” she hissed, before punishing your audacity by forcing your cock deep into her throat.

The emptiness and warmth of her mouth completely sucked you in. You closed your eyes, defeated. The wet, rhythmic, and suffocating sounds of intimacy filled the space between the fireplace and the bed.

Irene threw herself into the act with a desperate voracity, moving her head with an implacable rhythm that dragged you straight to the abyss. You felt the pressure of her teeth, the touch of her tongue, and the warmth of her saliva lubricating every inch of your skin.

When you felt you were about to lose control and ejaculate into her mouth, you forced her away by holding her shoulders. She stood up with a gasp, wiping the corner of her lips with a finger, her cheeks flushed and her eyes clouded with lust.

“To bed.” She ordered in a whisper that, even so, sounded demanding.

You sank down onto the feather mattress. Irene then climbed up, shedding her silk dress with a sudden movement that left her pale, perfect body exposed in the flickering firelight.

She positioned herself over you, straddling you, and without allowing for tenderness or delicate preliminaries, she guided your member towards her intimacy and suddenly dropped down.

A sharp, piercing cry escaped her lips as she felt your thickness invade her completely. Her burning, tight interior gripped you like a fleshy gag. Irene threw her head back, exposing her delicate neck marked by your saliva, while her nails dug into your shoulders with desperate force.

"Move..." she moaned against your ear, beginning to sway her hips with a violent rhythm. "Move, fuck!"

You gripped her hips with your hands, lifting them slightly to set the pace of her thrusts. Your hips slammed against hers with a muffled echo that reverberated in the dim light.

Sex became rustic, animalistic, devoid of the delicacy of love but charged with absolute devotion.

You penetrated her forcefully, feeling her insides contract around you with each impact, dragging her into such a violent ecstasy that her screams began to echo through the place.

"More... faster! Don't you dare stop!" she demanded, pounding your chest with her closed fists as the orgasm began to shake her body.

With your heart racing, you quickened your pace, feeling your sweat mingle with each other's friction. The tension that had built up over a whole year of silence, of professional glances in the hallways, and of secret longings, exploded inside you.

With one last brutal thrust that made her arch her back completely, you came deep inside her, releasing your hot load at the bottom of her womb.

Irene stifled a scream, collapsing onto your chest as her own orgasm made her tremble from head to toe.

For long minutes, only your ragged breathing and the crackling of the wood in the fireplace could be heard. She lay over you, using you as a shield against the cold and the world before you both succumbed to the darkness of the night.

Since then, your time as an assistant had evolved to the next level.

4 years later.

You returned to the present with a bitter sigh, holding the glass of whiskey that the waiter had just refilled. You looked at your reflection in the golden liquid.

You had endured four years playing that double game. Four years, waiting in vain for her to take the step of looking you in the eye in the light of day and recognizing you as something more than a "nice guy".

But this pointless game had gone on for too long.

You downed the second gulp of whiskey, feeling the cold certainty that your time as "The Chosen One" had come to an end.

You got up from the stool, leaving some extra bills as a tip on the bar; you needed to sleep on everything.

A buzzing sound from your pocket startled you. You pulled out your mobile phone, whose light was flashing with a new message.

"I can't believe it..." you murmured in disbelief when you read the sender.

Some of them, the most naive, were filled with a false hope provided by that gentle rejection. Others, maybe more experienced in this field, knew perfectly well the cold cruelty that lay behind those words.

It wasn't hard to imagine that Jang Wonyoung had a long list of suitors. She had been one of the most recognized idols since her early debut; her fame skyrocketed thanks to her enormous talent and, though it's wrong to say so, her incredible beauty.

From Iz*one to Ive, and including any advertising campaign: clothing brands, drinks, jewelry...

Everything she touched was synonymous with success, everything that ended up in her hands became out of stock in minutes, the country's capital was plastered with her image: Shops, boutiques, bus stops... It didn't matter at all, everything oozed Wonyoung.

When she came of age, the expected happened, as if it were a prophecy: Countless men trying to be her partner.

It was certainly a bit creepy to read some things on the internet, but you weren't in a position to judge, because you too were head over heels for her.

There was even speculation that she hated men after the endless string of rejections. Rumors even reached your ears that she had also rejected girls who had approached her in the same way.

At that moment, you wholeheartedly believed her words. She worked as an idol, was an MC at various events and award shows, and worked as a model for numerous brands. It was simply impossible to find time for a normal private life.

Did that stop you? Not for a second.

You had nothing to lose, neither to fear. You could replay the entire sentence in your mind as she was rejecting you.

"Alright."

What?

You remember perfectly how your body froze, how your legs trembled as if you were about to faint, and how you swear you believe your heart stopped pumping blood for a second.

After that, the proposals from other men didn't stop. The news of your relationship didn't reach the idols close to you, like your own groups. But from then on, her usual response took on a whole new meaning for you.

The first few days you felt like you were in heaven, like you could fly, you dared to do anything. The first few days, that's all your ecstatic state lasted.

You immediately understood what it meant to "date" Jang Wonyoung.

Idols generally had to hide their private relationships for fear of the press and the reaction of their most passionate fans.

In your case this was neither necessary nor a risk.

Five months after your declaration of love, you could count on one hand the number of in-person dates you had had with your girlfriend. And you’d still have a few fingers to spare.

Your relationship was more like a friendship, a long distance friendship, since your conversations only took place via mobile phone chat.

You recalled the excuse: "I don't have enough time for a relationship right now."

It was a damned and painful truth.

When she wasn't recording her group's new comeback, she had to record tons of content for the brands she represented or that her agency assigned her on his own, in addition to attending events, shows, concerts around the world, galas and awards.

Even just having a conversation with her via text message was tedious; days could pass before she was free to reply to a single message.

Did you give up? Absolutely not.

You had experience in masochism.

You had only been with your group for one and a half years since your official debut. You were incredibly "lucky" that all the trainees under Cube Entertainment's roof left overnight after witnessing the continued mistreatment of each and every one of their groups.

The disagreements with the girls from Gidle over their contract renewals were the final straw. “They destroyed 4Minute, they destroyed CLC, they destroyed Pentagon, was Lightsum still alive?” The general consensus among the trainees at the time was unanimous. And to top it all off, your star group wanted to leave as soon as possible; they had to give them the keys to the building to stop them.

Only a group of brave souls remained, avoiding the cuts. You and your team mates quickly became a mid-level group; you gave it your all, but in this business, giving it your all didn't matter if those who were supposed to manage the rest for you screwed it up, as always.

Even so, it helped you get invited back to most of the end-of-year events. You were happy because it was a chance to admire your girlfriend for much longer, even though you couldn't get close to her or talk to her; just being able to share the space with her was more than enough. Although you had to be careful, you couldn't spend three hours staring at her with hundreds of cameras around. One wrong move and it would all be over.

“Hey!”

A voice behind you from the practice room startled you out of your thoughts. You turned to find Yuqi leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a bored expression.

“Dude, are you still alive?”

A bubble of chewing gum formed in her mouth before it popped and she went back to chewing it.

You forgot the main reason you were there that morning. You still had to prepare the special stage you were going to present with Yuqi at one of this year's events.

“Let’s rehearse,” you commented, returning to the ground.

The morning of rehearsal passed peacefully. The dynamic between you and Yuqi worked well; you had known each other for many years and you considered her practically a sister—an annoying and irritating sister.

There were no disagreements in the preparation of the entire stage. Well, there was one: The choreographer gave you two dance versions to try, one of them was sexier, more catchy, with more contact and rubbing between your bodies.

You both had enough confidence in each other to pull it off, that is, until Wonyoung clouded your judgment again. You thought for a moment that it wasn't pleasant to do this kind of choreography with a girlfriend, much less if she was going to be there watching everything, so you put that option on the back burner and opted for the other one.

You collapsed onto the floor of the practice room, tired and panting. You took a swig of water from your bottle; the hard weeks of work were over, it was time for the real action.

. . .

The first awards ceremony of the year was about to begin. You were sitting in the artists' section with your colleagues; the rest of the artists were still taking their seats when suddenly the lights went out—the show was about to start.

A spotlight illuminated the center of the stage, blinding everyone for a moment. You looked at the big screen, and when the image stabilized, you could see the two main MCs of the event: Jang Wonyoung, your girlfriend, along with another male idol.

You smiled like an idiot when you saw her on the screen and turned your gaze to the stage to see her live. Your stupid grin widened but faded in an instant as the music began to resonate through the venue.

Both MCs began their special stage performance as the opening act of the event. A calm rhythm, soft voices, elegant outfits.

All the attendees were amazed, enjoying the moment.

And you?

If giving murderous looks to the male MC were a crime, you'd be serving a life sentence.

You frowned at the small brushes of hands between them as part of the choreography; the dance was purely elegant, there was nothing about it that could be making you jealous, but there it was.

The music stopped and the entire stadium erupted in applause. You followed the applause, trying to avoid any suspicion, but the expression on your face didn't seem to want to fade.

You kept turning it over in your mind throughout the rest of the performances, unable to think clearly because of the loud sound and deafening atmosphere. It had hit you harder than you ever imagined.

One of the event organizers pulled you from your thoughts when he approached you and asked you to go backstage. It was your turn to get ready for your shift.

You don't know when, going down the stairs behind the stage, your mind snapped, but you resolutely approached Yuqi, who was already there, and blurted out:

“Let’s do the other version.”

“Are you really saying this now?” she asked, sounding both surprised and annoyed.

“During the rehearsal you said it would be much more impactful for the audience, right?” She nodded, puzzled.

“What made you change your mind?”

“I simply reconsidered.”

You couldn't tell her the truth. That you'd had a terrible fit of jealousy and now wanted to exact some stupid, childish revenge. At that moment, the director signaled for you to go on stage.

"Okay, let's do it." She said, raising her hand, and you gave her a hard high five.

You took your positions in the darkness of the stage.

When the spotlights came on and the cameras zoomed in, it was the starting gun. Your bodies moved perfectly to the beat of the music, a powerful and wild rhythm that perfectly complemented this sensual version of the choreography.

Your hands roamed over Yuqi's hips and thighs, she pulled you closer, gripping your tie tightly.

The screams and gasps of astonishment reached your ears despite the loud music; some idols covered their eyes as they witnessed it, while others cheered, rising from their seats for you.

The music stopped and your bodies froze, your sweaty faces inches apart, gazing at each other with eyes that seemed ready to close the distance between you at any moment. Nothing real, just acting for the camera.

You smiled as the lights went out above you, still panting from exhaustion.

“We are the best.” You said, and Yuqi laughed.

“I’m the best. You weren’t bad I guess.” She commented, laughing and running off.

“Come here, you idiot!” you shouted, chasing her around the back of the stage, laughing as you returned to your seats.

You sat down after bumping fists with all your members, exhausted, and wiped the sweat from your forehead with a tissue.

You glanced sideways at Wonyoung; she was presenting an award for a new category, so you couldn't see her reaction. But for your childish ass, the score was now tied, and that made you feel better for the rest of the event.

After the remaining performances and awards, the event came to an end. It had been many hours and you were tired; you just wanted to get home and sleep.

While you were changing in the backstage dressing room, your phone vibrated. A new notification from “Princess Vicky”—that's how you had saved her number.

The message was brief and direct: “Meet me in the bathroom.”

You were surprised since she had never summoned you to an event before, but you decided to make up an excuse and go out of the dressing room.

When you entered the bathroom, she was already there. Standing in front of the door with her arms crossed.

“Good job up there…”

“What the hell was that about the stage?” She interrupted you in a visibly annoyed tone.

Your eyes widened at her reaction. You hadn't heard her raise her voice like that in the entire five months.

“What do you mean?” you asked, somewhat confused.

She changed her position; her arms were now resting on either side of her waist.

“How was Yuqi’s ass?”

You swallowed hard, you wanted to make her jealous, not enrage her, and maybe in the process you tried too hard or the results got out of hand.

You had to fix this.

"I was just following the choreographer's instructions." Blaming someone else, how convenient.

"Bullshit!"

You took a step back, surprised and frightened. Her body trembled with fury.

“I’m leaving here before I say something I’ll regret.”

She was hurt, seriously hurt.

“Princess, wait”

You grabbed her arm trying to stop her, using that nickname that only you used with her.

“Don’t call me that… leave me alone, please,” she murmured softly, sobbing.

You stood there, stunned, staring at the bathroom door through which she disappeared.

You really screwed up.

. . .

A week passed, a week in which you barely slept. You spent days and nights glued to your phone: a call, a message, any sign of life… But nothing came. She didn't read your messages, you had apologized to her more times than you did in all your life.

There came a point when your phone felt like a ticking time bomb. Every call or notification sent shivers down your spine and put you on high alert, fearing it was the last glimpse of your relationship with Wonyoung.

Nothing happened. Were you still together? Had you broken up? The truth is, you had no idea.

A new day dawned, and with it, a new awards ceremony.

You could see her once you were seated in the secluded corner for the artists. As beautiful as ever. As perfect as ever.

Your eyes never met, even though you kept staring at her, almost obsessively. She didn't even make the effort to return your gaze once, and that broke you inside.

You had to react, as soon as possible.

You thought of the plan during one of the breaks. You'd bring it up at the after-party; you needed an explanation, or you'd end up going crazy before the end of the year.

The hours passed, the performances, the awards. Why on earth was it that every time she went on stage to collect an award she looked more beautiful than before?

Finally, the gala ended. The afterparty arrived and… no sign of Jang Wonyoung.

You couldn't believe it; your plan had collapsed in seconds, like a house of cards. You searched for her in every imaginable corner, but she had vanished, even though her group members were still there.

You refused to give up.

You would pursue Wonyoung to the ends of the earth if necessary. Could this be used as grounds for a harassment complaint?

In any case, you need clues about her whereabouts. And you knew someone who could provide them.

You approached a group of girls chatting animatedly in the center of the party room. Karina, Yuna, Ryujin, Chaewon. None of them were your target.

You touched the girl's shoulder from behind and suddenly you caught everyone's attention; you felt yourself shrink a few centimeters at that moment.

“Ahn Yujin-ssi,” your trembling voice sounded ridiculous. “Can we talk for a moment… alone?” You finished speaking, and their curious glances turned mischievous. You wanted to say something else, to avoid them misunderstanding your intentions, but she interrupted you.

“Sure,” she said, and quickly took your arm to lead you away from the group and the people in general to a more secluded place where you could talk better.

“I hope they don’t get the wrong idea,” you whispered, still glancing sideways at the group of girls.

"So it was you, huh? I never would have guessed."

"Excuse me?" you asked, puzzled.

“Well, it’s not like Wonyoung has any kind of ideal type or anything.” She looked you over more closely, scanning you from head to toe. “Not bad, I guess.”

“Did you know that?”

“Who do you think was comforting her the other night while she was crying nonstop?” The cordial tone in her voice eventually gave way to a more aggressive one.

You swallowed, recalling her last sentence.

"Was she crying?" You felt something inside you break when you learned that information.

"You're a fucking idiot, just like all men. You were so close and you threw it all away because of your stupid male jealousy."

Yujin's scolding was severe, but there were many things that escaped you and she seemed to notice.

“You’re not her first boyfriend.”

That confession made your eyes widen in shock. So there were others whom Wonyoung accepted before you.

"Do you know what her longest relationship has been?"

You shook your head.

"5 months."

That hit you like a knockout from a professional boxer.

“M-M-Me?” You ventured to ask and she nodded.

“Not just anyone can handle being in a relationship and not hearing from the other person for days or weeks. Not being able to meet in person because of their busy schedule, not receiving a single sign of affection for months.”

Logically, it made sense.

“Others had tried with her before. They didn’t last more than three months. They gave up. They broke up with her.”

They must have lost their minds. Who in their right mind would leave JANG WONYOUNG? For God's sake.

Or maybe you were a fucking masochist?

"I had no idea."

“No, of course not.” She shook her head, a wry laugh playing on her lips. “Just as I suppose you neither know she was planning to take a couple of weeks off after all this was over to spend some more time with you, did you?”

You felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over you. If you hadn't been surrounded by so many important people, you would have punched yourself.

“When she first told me, I didn’t trust in you. I thought you’d just be another one name to add to the list. But she said that this new guy gave her some new vibes, and when I saw you stick it out for so long, I even got excited. But you had to screw it up.”

“I’m a complete idiot.”

“Congratulations, you’ve got it.”

“Please, Yujin, tell me where she is.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t let you break my best friend’s heart again.”

She tried to leave and return to her group of friends, but you stood in her way, blocking her.

“I can’t lose her, please.”

The determination in your voice and movements surprised her, but she still continued to doubt.

"She will kill me if she finds out I helped you."

“I will fix it. I promise.”

She let out a sigh of defeat.

“You’d better.”

. . .

The information Yujin gave you was highly confidential—the address of the apartment she shared with Wonyoung and Gaeul. Some crazed fans would pay a fortune for the information you now possessed.

You had to make a pit stop first; roaming around Seoul like a man possessed, wearing a formal suit, would attract the attention of passersby, something you couldn't afford on this infiltration mission in the purest Hollywood spy style.

You stopped by your apartment and changed into much more normal and comfortable clothes. The key part of the disguise was your hoodie hood and a pair of glasses. They weren't sunglasses; it was night time, and although they didn't completely disguise your relatively well-known face, they did the job. After all, if that method worked for Superman, why wouldn't it work for you?

You walked for over an hour, including a subway transfer. You could barely feel your legs, but the effort had been worth it. The building that stood before you told you you were in the right place.

You looked left and right, making sure no curious onlookers were lurking nearby, and entered the building, taking the elevator. Yujin's instructions echoed in your head. "Fifth floor, room B, you can't miss it."

The elevator beep snapped you out of your reverie. You nervously stepped outside; you had everything rehearsed in your head, it was just a matter of reciting it from memory and praying for a Christmas miracle.

Your knuckles tapped the wooden door of the apartment a couple of times.

Seconds passed.

Minutes.

Nobody.

You knocked again for the second time.

Same answer.

You were starting to lose patience. Had you made a mistake? Impossible, correct floor, correct apartment.

"Is anyone there?"

A voice asked from behind you, a voice you would recognize under any circumstances.

You turned around on your heels and finally saw her.

Your girlfriend. (Ex-girlfriend?)

Jang Wonyoung.

Standing, with her body occupying the space that had been created by opening the door halfway.

You noticed the number above the door for a moment. “A”. Damn Yujin.

Her eyes widened when she saw you standing there, but her face quickly took on an expression of annoyance and she hurriedly closed the door without saying anything else.

“Wonyoung, please.”

You were faster, making her stop before she closed.

“I don’t want to see you.”

It wasn't coldness in her tone, it was pain. And seeing her like that was killing you.

“We need to talk,” you insisted.

“Don’t talk about us as if we were something.” That attack hurt, you admit it, but it wasn’t her speaking, it was her discomfort.

She closed the door so hard that a gust of wind swirled around your face.

Were you going to give up? Never.

"I'm not leaving here until we talk!" you shouted from the hallway, but there was no response from the other side of the door.

Silence.

. . .

An hour had passed since then. The hood of your sweatshirt now rested in its usual place. You didn't know what else to do. Were you going to stay there all night until her group members returned? If necessary, you'd even camp out there.

Time continued to pass, and there were no signs of Wonyoung budging. Now you were sitting on the floor of the hallway in front of her door, playing TFT on your phone, waiting for something you didn't know if it would ever happen.

“Another top five…This set sucks.” You muttered, opening your mouth to let out a loud yawn as you put the device back in your pants pocket.

The storm of conflicting thoughts and feelings, combined with days of relentless work, was taking an increasing toll on your body. Sleepiness overtook you, and your eyes threatened to close. Almost unconsciously, you leaned your head and back against the door, on the verge of falling asleep.

Suddenly the pressure on the door gave way and you fell instantly to the floor on your back.

You let out a groan as you rubbed the back of your head that had been hit against the ground.

You opened your eyes, meeting hers.

Your upper body was inside the apartment, your feet still in the hallway. Wonyoung stood beside you after opening the door, looking down at you, judging you.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Her voice still sounded annoyed but in a much less threatening tone than a little while ago.

You stood up still complaining about the damaged part of your skull.

“I already told you. I’m not going to give up that easily.”

She huffed, tired of the situation.

“Go home, it’s late and cold.”

You observed her more closely for a moment. She was no longer wearing the dress she'd worn to the gala earlier; instead, she was wearing pink and white pajamas with little sheep designs that made her look very cute. Traces of very light makeup were still visible on her face, which only served to highlight her beauty out of this world.

“Damn, she’s beautiful.” That was your first thought when you saw her.

You cleared your throat and tried to start with your speech.

“Listen, I know I acted wrong but…”

“Wrong?” Her laugh was bitter. “If you were going to act like a jealous idiot, you could have accepted the offer.”

Offer? What offer?

"What are you talking about now?" you asked, genuinely confused.

She hesitated a little when she saw you so confused.

“I spoke with the organizers of last week’s awards ceremony. I was the one who suggested your name as a candidate for this year’s vacant male MC position. When they didn’t get a response from you, they looked for another candidate.”

You were speechless. Not only because it was a really nice gesture on her part and would have allowed you to spend some quality time together, but also because it was the first time you'd heard about it.

“I didn’t receive any of that.” You protested, trying to internally review your most recent important emails of the month.

“By law they can’t contact you directly, everything is handled through your agency,” she commented.

Now everything made sense. You clenched your teeth and fists in rage.

“I’m going to burn Cube to the ground, not even ashes will remain…” You whispered to yourself.

There were a few seconds of silence between you.

“Did you really not know anything?” she finally spoke, still with doubts.

"Do you think I would have passed up an opportunity like this to be with you and work with you?" Your tone was so sincere it hurt; those words came straight from the depths of your heart.

“In any case,” she said. “It’s better this way… sooner or later we would have realized this wasn’t going to work.”

Her voice was breaking more with each word, eliciting a few sobs from her.

“Of course it can work…”

“How?!” Her scream wasn’t one of anger or pain. It was helplessness.

“At best, let’s say we continue our relationship. How long will it last before the press finds out, three months? Maybe another five if we’re lucky…”

You frowned. You knew Wonyoung better than she thought.

“You’ve never cared what people think, much less what the press publishes; you’ve got them terrified.”

You tried to approach her, but she backed away.

"I'm trying to protect you, you idiot!"

If you thought about it, that was quite a romantic gesture on her part. She was thinking about you, not herself.

“I’ll be fine. Starship would go bankrupt without me.”

That was a very strong argument.

“Have you even thought about the consequences for yourself? You could lose your job!”

You took her hands in yours; that swift movement surprised her and painted her cheeks red.

“Would you do that for me? God yes, get me out of the prison that is Cube, princess.”

Your exaggeratedly sarcastic tone managed to bring a shy smile to her lips, and you felt incredibly good about it.

“Nothing is going to change,” she murmured, still close to you. “Not in the short term, at least.”

You squeezed her hands tighter, offering her the warmth of yours.

“I can live with it, I already have been.”

She looked away. She was running out of arguments to change your mind.

“And I know you want it too. You wouldn’t spend a night crying if you didn’t.”

She looked at you again, this time quite annoyed that you knew that small detail.

“I’m going to kill Yujin unnie.”

You released one of her hands but continued holding the other, intertwining your fingers; she offered no resistance.

"It may be difficult for you to understand, but even though our relationship has been so unusual, these have been the best months of my life."

That caught her off guard.

“Stop lying once and for all…”

“I swear I’m not lying! Every damn day I woke up as your boyfriend felt like paradise…”

You brought your free hand to her face, always careful, waiting for her permission since you hadn't had much physical contact on previous dates.

She took your hand in her face and stroked it.

"Why are you doing all this? Why are you trying so hard just for me?"

"Because I'm in love with you, Jang Wonyoung! Because I adore you! Because I'm the happiest man in the world by your side!"

Her blush deepened; the heat in her face was palpable through the palm of your hand. When did you become such a weakness for her?

“You’re completely blind, did you know that?”

“Maybe,” you admitted with a smile, caressing her cheek. “Or maybe you’re the one who’s truly blind. Either way, one of us is going to have to help the other cross the road. So tell me, princess, is the light  green?”

She smiled. That beautiful smile that drove you crazy.

“For most of my life, the light has been red. Debuting and becoming famous so young made it my own defense mechanism. But when I met you, before I even realized it, it had already turned green. I don't understand what you did to achieve that…”

“Don’t try to explain love…”

“I think… I think meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She confessed suddenly, and your heart raced like never before. “But even so, I’m afraid to cross…” She admitted, closing her eyes and letting a few tears fall.

You leaned over her, resting your forehead against hers; she opened her eyes at that moment, meeting yours.

“In that case, take my hand and let’s cross together.”

That was all. The distance between you dissolved. Your lips met for the first time since your relationship began with a tender, slow kiss that had no other intention than to show how deeply in love you were with each other.

The sensation you experienced was simply heavenly; her lips were incredibly soft and perfect. But then you also felt the emptiness when you had to separate to catch your breath.

Just inches apart, your foreheads were still touching. You wiped away the trail of tears that had trickled down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around your neck, and you remained like that for a moment, admiring each other.

“I’m so sorry for behaving like a jealous child.”

She chuckled softly.

“It’s true you’re a kid, but that’s part of your charm.”

She closed her eyes and made a few faces, as if searching for the right words.

“I’m sorry for doing everything I could to scare you.” You let out a loud laugh, which you immediately suppressed when you saw her angry look.

“I’m also sorry for having wasted so much of your time these last few months; I’ll try to do better in the future.”

“Time is never wasted if it’s with you.”

You shared another kiss, shorter this time.

“Thank you for being so stubborn.”

“I love you,” you declared. You had told her several times in the past by chat. This was the first time in person.

"I love you too."

. . .

You don't quite know how it happened, but before you realize it, you were inside Wonyoung's bedroom. There was a sudden change in her attitude; she took your hand, and you both walked through the house until you reached the room where you were now.

You were nervous, very nervous. You didn't think it was right to be there that night; it was too soon, right after a reconciliation and a relationship with no physical contact up to that point.

You were probably exaggerating, and your mind was racing more than it should have been, to the point of making you imagine unreal things.

Without warning, Wonyoung placed her hands against your chest, gently pushing you. She didn't apply much force, but because you weren't expecting it, you stumbled and were "lucky" enough to fall onto the bed mattress.

Still somewhat dazed by that action, you tried to get up, but it was too late: Wonyoung was already on top of you.

You blushed violently when you saw her sitting on your lap; you didn't quite understand what she was up to. Her facial expression was now hidden behind a few strands of hair that had fallen over her face.

“What…What are you doing…”

You didn't have time to finish the question because Wonyoung pounced on you like a wild animal, joining your lips in a kiss very different from the ones you had shared just a few minutes ago.

This time, her lips moved quickly, with equal parts passion and need. She seemed hungry, hungry for you.

As the seconds passed, your initial surprise faded and you let yourself go, returning the kiss with almost the same intensity as her, grabbing the girl's hips with your hands as she lay above you.

None of it was calm. There was no serenity in her gestures, no serenity of agreement, no gentleness of reconciliation. It was urgency, need, a desperate way of silencing thoughts she didn't know how to confront.

Shortly after, you separated, gasping for air. Wonyoung sat up over you, and you could finally see her flushed face as she clumsily tried to pull off her pajama top.

Your whole body trembled as you witnessed that scene. You tightened your grip on her hips, biting your lip, noticing how you were becoming increasingly nervous, excited, and… hard.

Were you stupid enough to ask her to stop, to tell her that this wasn't right? You were, but tonight your stupidity wasn't going to be the issue.

“Wony...”

You almost choked on your own saliva when you saw her pajama shirt fly off and land on the floor away from the bed.

She smiled as she noticed the already enormous bulge that had formed under your pants, right in the area where she was sitting, and began to move her body against yours, rubbing that delicate area.

She unhooked her bra, which slowly fell down her chest and torso until it finally followed the trail of her shirt, allowing you to see her bare torso.

She took your hands, which were still gripping her hips, and without any resistance from you, guided them to her naked breasts. The shock didn't stop you from beginning to gently massage them, eliciting a few moans from her.

“Damn, princess…”

That sight was fucking erotic, Wonyoung kept rubbing against your bulge while now she took one of your hands to bring one of your fingers to her mouth and licked it sensually, at the same time your other hand kept working on her tits, you could notice how her nipples hardened under your palm.

She leaned over you again, her face full of determination and a playful smile gracing her beautiful features. Where on earth had your sweet, innocent girlfriend gone?

“I should have warned you sooner,” she whispered, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m too fucking jealous…”

“I’m sorry…” you murmured, trying to calm the raging erection between your legs.

“It’s not enough.” Wonyoung left a trail of kisses and saliva along your neck, leaving very visible marks. “I need to show all those sluts out there that you belong to me…”

“Princess…you know perfectly well that I only think about you…”

She laughed, covering her mouth with one of her hands in a habitual gesture.

“I know, they are the ones who must learn it now…”

She moved off your chest and crawled down towards the area where your bulging penis was eager to be freed from your pants.

Again you did not resist, but even helped her to take off your clothes more easily; you had already succumbed to her.

Only your underwear held back your vigor, which was removed by both hands of Wonyoung, who stepped back a little when she finally saw your penis being released in its full glory.

"Damn it..." she murmured, holding her breath without taking her eyes off your cock. Maybe it wasn't the longest, but it had a monstrous thickness down there, enough to provoke that reaction from your girlfriend.

Wonyoung's hands soon began to work, forcing you to clench your teeth as you felt the heat of her hands around you, suppressing any moans you might have as she began to caress you from top to bottom.

You looked down only to observe her completely distracted by your length, watching every reaction, every time it contracted at her touch, observing the swollen veins that threatened to burst at any moment.

She placed both hands on your cock, encircling it with her long fingers, and you let out a sigh of satisfaction.

"Why didn't you tell your dear girlfriend that you possessed such a piece of meat, darling? I would have sucked it so many times during this time."

Her foul language was hitting you hard. Was this the real version of Jang Wonyoung?

Her tongue made contact with your already dripping tip and you felt the electricity running nonstop up your spine.

Before you could say anything, she was working on your cock with both hands while her lips and tongue sucked on your head. It was like she was savoring a fucking candy stick.

"Shit..." That was all you managed to say, leaving you completely at her mercy.

She smiled at the sight of you in that state, taking more and more inches into her mouth, now stimulating your testicles with her hands.

How on earth was she so good at this? You didn't even want to think about it.

She continued to bury her head between your legs for a few minutes, gagging on your penis and covering it with saliva, letting out some really sensual watery sounds from her mouth.

She took it out of her mouth, still joined by a huge strand of saliva which she finally used to continue lubricating your cock in a new masturbation session.

“Come here.” she demanded.

You quickly sat up on the bed, ready to receive another passionate kiss. Your tongues battled fiercely inside your mouths as she ran her thumb over the head of your penis, forcing you to groan into her mouth, which she loved.

She got out of bed and quickly kicked off her lower half before climbing back into bed and lying face up where you had been seconds before.

She looked at you with a smile, sliding the fabric of her panties aside, allowing you a glimpse of the entrance to paradise. Her incredibly wet pussy contracted with excitement at the sight of you.

She rubbed her folds with one hand while squeezing one of her nipples with the other; it was a sight you had never imagined and that was forcing you to resume masturbation, this time on your own.

"Fuck me..." she moaned as she continued rubbing herself. "Fuck me, baby..."

You didn't think twice. You went over to her and replaced her hand with yours, caressing it with the same force she had applied to you earlier.

Wonyoung's moans didn't take long to start and echoed throughout the room like a sound that pierced your brain.

“So wet…” You whispered, leaning over her body to give her another kiss.

“Because of you…” She replied with a smile as she watched you align yourself with her pink entrance. “Give it to me…please…”

You didn't make her beg any longer; you carefully pushed your cock halfway inside her, making her cry out with pleasure. You fought against your impulses to avoid going too fast and hurting her, waiting for her to adjust to your size before continuing until the end.

“So big…” she whispered, biting her hand to try and stifle her moans.

"Because of you…"

A new kiss that was interrupted when you finally inserted your entire penis inside her tight pussy.

“FUCK!”

Wonyoung screamed, throwing her head back. You seized the opportunity to attack her unprotected neck with your lips, marking her just as she had marked you. All those men out there needed to know she was only yours.

You thrust hard on her, your mind clouded by excitement, gripping her hips again to go deeper inside her. The bed moved with the rhythm of your thrusts, Wonyoung's body pressed against the headboard, but there was no pain; she urged you to go harder.

The tight walls of her vagina gripped your penis so tightly that each thrust felt closer to release. You had to pull out as soon as possible.

You backed away but were surprised when Wonyoung caught you with her legs, holding you captive with your cock close to exploding inside her.

“Wonyoung…we can’t…”

"Don't you want to fill your princess up?"

Your eyes opened wide, her smile was evil, very evil.

She brought her hands to your face, pulling you closer and kissing you again. Your hips couldn't stop thrusting against her, and she knew it.

“We shouldn’t…” You whispered against her curved lips.

"Do you want us to be together forever?" You nodded, losing what little sanity you had left.

“Then breed me…daddy…”

Your brain short-circuited, you couldn't think clearly anymore, your thrusts became ferocious, primal. Wonyoung moaned more intensely, your fingers intertwining…and then…you let go.

Violent spurts of cum shot from your cock, directly into your girlfriend's vagina. You looked at her for a second; she threw her head back again, rolling her eyes as she accepted your entire load.

You collapsed onto her, exhaling a sigh of pure physical exhaustion. You couldn't believe what you had just done; it had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but your mind wouldn't stop racing.

Wonyoung slid under your body and around the bed, positioning herself over you again as at the beginning of the night.

Excess semen dripped out of her hole as she positioned herself over you again, grabbing your limp cock with the intention of pushing it back inside her, but you stopped her with your own hands.

“Stop…” It wasn’t a request, it was a plea. She smiled.

“I’m not finished with you.” She said, sitting down against your cock all at once.

She placed both hands on your chest and began to bounce on your penis, which reacted immediately, regaining a considerable size inside her pussy.

“Fuck.” She sighed, delighted. “It stretches me so well…”

"You're going to kill me." You said because of the pain you felt in your sensitive area.

"You should have thought about it better." She huffed in annoyance as she continued riding you.

“You know?” she remarked suddenly, slowing her pace. “You never answered how Yuqi’s butt was.”

“It’s not the right time, Wony.” God, how could she be so jealous?

“Answer me!” she yelled, grabbing your hands and placing them both on her ass.

You squeezed both her buttocks tightly between your hands, making her moan.

“Fuck Wonyoung, there’s no better ass in this whole damn world than yours.” You said, giving her a light spank on one of her cheeks.

She screamed, and her whole body trembled against yours. You smiled at her reaction; you'd found a very weak spot.

"Oh?" You played innocent. She looked at you, blushing, and shook her head. "Does my princess enjoy a good spanking?"

You repeated the process on her other cheek, harder this time.

She screamed again, increasing the pace at which she was riding you, almost desperately.

“Only when they’re yours.” She finally admitted with her eyes closed.

You wrapped your arms around her waist and forced her down until she was lying on your torso. You gave her another spank.

“Don’t you dare to stop now.” You whispered in her ear. “I’m going to give your jealous princess hole another fucking load.”

Her whole body trembled at your words, her hips continued to move without stopping, yours now also moved at the same speed, making your balls hit incessantly against her buttocks.

The grip of your arms around her waist intensified, she held tightly to your shoulders, digging her nails into them.

One more thrust.

Two.

Three.

And your cock sank back down to the bottom of her pussy, painting its walls white again with all the load that remained stored in your balls.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Instead, her whole body began to convulse against yours. You couldn't say for sure because everything inside her felt sticky and wet.

But from her expression it seemed obvious: Jang Wonyoung was cumming over your cock.

You hugged her tighter, pulling her close to your body; she clung to your neck, both of you sweaty and exhausted. You stayed like that for a couple of minutes, your ragged breathing the only thing that broke the silence of the night.

“That was…intense,” you said once you caught your breath.

"You already know the consequences of making me jealous," she remarked, resting her head against your chest.

You gave her a small kiss on the forehead as an apology.

“It’s a safe day.” She whispered, caressing your arm.

You stepped back a little to get a better look at her, and she returned your gaze with a guilty smile.

"Thank goodness." You said with relief, feeling how a huge weight left your body.

“I just wanted…”

“Drive me crazy?”

“See how much you could endure.” She joked with her characteristic soft laugh.

You huffed, trying to look angry, but the stupid smile on your lips betrayed you. She leaned in a little to kiss you.

“Stay tonight,” she said, closing her eyes, tired.

"Sure."

Your eyes closed too; mental exhaustion combined with the tremendous physical exertion of that night, and you lost the battle against sleep in a matter of seconds.

. . .

The next day you woke up still somewhat sleepy and with your body numb from the uncomfortable sleeping position.

You bent your head to find Wonyoung still asleep on your chest; that sight made all your pain disappear without the need for painkillers.

You wrapped your arms around her body, pulling her a little closer to you, and kissed the hair on the top of her head.

She shifted slightly against your body, still without opening her eyes, as if trying to get into a better position.

“Good morning.” Her sweet voice sounded just as sleepy as you did.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

"What time is it?"

You look around the bedroom for the alarm clock.

“9 AM”

“Already?” she complained, opening her eyes at that moment with a grimace of disgust. “I have a commercial to shoot in a couple of hours.”

“You should start preparing then,” you said before giving her another kiss.

“Five more minutes.” She whispered, holding on tighter to you, making you laugh.

You finally managed to convince her to stand up and get in the shower, but not before giving her a good series of cuddles and hugs.

You could hear the shower water running as you gathered up all your clothes that were still scattered on the bedroom floor and put them back on.

You also had your own job that day, so you left the room and walked all the way down the hall back to the living room.

“What a surprise,” a familiar voice commented from the living room. “Look who we have here. Did you get here safely?” A mischievous smile formed on Ahn Yujin’s face as she took a sip of her coffee while sitting on the sofa.

"It wasn't funny," you said, annoyed, confronting her.

“Consider it my little personal revenge.”

She took another sip of coffee and looked again.

"At least you seem to be the type of guy who keeps his promises."

A deep blush covered your face, provoking her evil laughter.

“Talking about promises?” Another voice echoed through the house.

You turned your head and found Wonyoung entering the room wearing a full-body bathrobe with slightly damp hair.

“You and I need to have a serious talk, unnie.”

Yujin almost choked on her drink when she heard those words.

"Did you tell her? You dirty traitor."

“Consider it my little personal revenge,” you commented with the same mischievous smile she had given you earlier.

Yujin gritted her teeth angrily.

“I don’t like him for you, Wonyoungie,” she said, pointing at you. “Why don’t you make up with that guy from Enhypen? He is not as rude as him.”

“Unnie, that’s enough!” Wonyoung shouted angrily. “Just ignore her,” she said quickly, flustered.

"It's okay," you said, trying to reassure her as you approached the apartment door. This Ahn Yujin was going to be a real pain in the ass.

You opened the front door when you felt something tugging at the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

“Call me when you get home,” Wonyoung murmured somewhat shyly.

You couldn't believe that this girl, who looked so sweet and innocent at first glance, had behaved the way she did the night before.

“Of course.” You whispered before pulling her closer to you and giving her one last goodbye kiss.

“Hey, you two.” Yujin called out as you separated. “I don’t want kids running around here disturbing my peace for at least another five years.”

Your faces looked like two tomatoes right now.

“¡Unnie! / ¡Yujin!”

. . .

The sun's rays hit you full force as soon as you stepped out of the building. You kept replaying everything that had happened yesterday inside that apartment, trying to understand it, and although it was difficult, the only thing you could tell for sure was that you were incredibly happy at that moment.

Yes, life was smiling on you, destiny was on your side.

In fact, everything was going so well that you didn't even have to stop and wait for the traffic light to change color to cross the street because it was green when you arrived.

There was absolutely nothing that could ruin your day.

Until you realized it.

You stopped dead in your tracks in the middle of the crosswalk. Some cars honked their horns to get you moving again. You couldn't move; you were devastated.

You were still under contract with Cube Entertainment.

I don't know any other way to act I've left all my bad habits behind When is it time to recover?

You didn’t see her coming. No one ever does, even when you insist you control the paths, the gestures, the doors that open and the ones you choose to close. You were walking with the conviction of someone still carrying an echo, with the bitter certainty that you had learned enough about losing, about saying goodbye unwillingly. And yet, there she was.

It wasn’t the right moment, the right place, nor the script you had written for yourself. She appeared like a soft flash in the middle of your routine, like an unexpected chord sliding into a song you thought you knew by heart. She brought no promises, no rehearsed lines, no guarantees, just a presence that suddenly reminded you of yourself in a time more innocent, more unspoiled. A forgotten reflection that painted color back onto what you thought had faded.

And don't let my reputation fool you I'm going to recover myself from those tragic days If you keep dancing in the middle of the room

Her voice was a stage in itself: the lows were the steady rhythm you had been missing, the highs the sparks that had disappeared from your world, and between every note, a silence that spoke louder than any speech. You found yourself following her rhythm, holding your breath as if awaiting the fall of the curtain, and without realizing it, you wanted to become part of that improvised song, made just for you.

You were caught off guard by her laughter, light enough to dismantle the walls you had spent years building. You found yourself speaking more than you intended, confessing things you had never dared to say aloud. And she, asking nothing in return, stayed. As if she could read the spaces between your words, as if she understood the silences as clearly as the lines.

You had sworn never to lose yourself in anyone again, never to give more than you could reclaim. Yet life —capricious and teasing— decided to show you that there were still corners of your soul waiting to open. Not everything can be rehearsed; sometimes, you have to let someone occupy the space you’ve kept empty for too long.

And I didn't see her coming I didn't know how to avoid it It tells me things I couldn't guess

She asked for nothing but your attention, and still, you felt invited onto her stage. Like leaving your guitar leaning in the corner, she took your melody, your silences, your doubts, and turned them into an unexpected harmony. Each glance was a spotlight switching on in places you thought would stay dark forever.

You look at her and realize that maybe you weren’t searching for anything, but you found too much. She didn’t come to save you, nor to heal what already hurt, but to remind you that you can still be surprised, that you can still feel your skin tingle at a touch, that you can still believe in beginnings.

You wake with light spilling through the curtains, timid and warm, and there she is beside you, half asleep, her back exposed, peeking from the sheets like a soft chord you never knew existed. Every curve, every line of her skin lit by morning, is a measure your heart recognizes before your mind can catch up. You stay silent, listening to her breath like an imperfect metronome, and for a moment, the whole world shrinks to the melody only you can hear. You find yourself wanting to linger in every note, every verse, every chord she improvises. And you understand that some songs don’t need planning; some stories aren’t rehearsed. The best melodies emerge from surprise, from risk, from the exact moment someone enters your life and makes you feel that, for the first time, being on stage is not fear, it’s a privilege.

And she sneaks into my house She reminds me a little of myself, she puts her guitar on the floor And, without looking at me, she says: "You can stay."

Your lips meet hers, and instantly, everything transforms into a sweet, deep chord, a crescendo that ripples through your body. Her kisses taste like dawn, the salt of her skin mixing with the sweetness of a stolen moment, as if each note were carefully chosen to unravel you. They are improvisations you cannot predict, melodies that make you listen with every sense, and as the music of her breath intertwines with yours, you realize that each kiss is a verse, a lyric only the two of you understand, one you want to repeat over and over, like a song you never want to end.

And as you walk beside her, you discover that the only thing you have to do is be. Be present, without plans, without maps. Because this love didn’t arrive with warnings or explanations. It came like everything that matters in life: without you seeing it coming.

Miyeon

Miyeon can’t stop being a princess even in bed, she constantly needs to be appreciated and being told how pretty she look. That’s why she prefer missionary and demanding you to not stop looking at her gorgeous face while she squirts over your cock.

Soyeon

Soyeon is the sluttiest member of the group. Her tiny body allows you to use her as if she was a doll, something she will never admit, but she clearly enjoy to being used like this. Especially, when you put her in a Full Nelson position, grabbing her head while you keep pounding inside her, melting her brain.

Yuqi

Yuqi is the only one who controls you, she is always on top riding your cock. But she also doesn’t allow you to touch any part of her naked body until you give her one big load. However, if she thinks that your load was enough decent for her, she will let you fuck her face without any rules.

Shuhua