In HYU Holdings' highest floor, inside the CEO's office—
Knock. Knock.
The heavy door opened. The chief secretary stepped in first, Andre following behind.
"Sir, Mr. Andre is here."
"Hm."
The reply came from the man seated behind a sleek, dark desk in the center of a majestic, elegant office. Everything about the space screamed power—clean lines, expensive taste, and an unspoken warning not to waste his time.
The man himself wore a tailored black suit, his striking almond-shaped eyes fixed on the document in his hands. Long, fair fingers—clean, smooth, and almost unnervingly perfect—held a black pen with casual precision.
Cold. Elegant. Dangerous. He was like a lazy panther—silent, beautiful, yet capable of devouring you whole without breaking a sweat.
Zhen Yichen.
No wonder my mom fell for him.
…
The secretary quietly left, and silence settled over the room.
Andre stood still, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. He didn't bother looking at the man behind the desk—his attention was on the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that offered a breathtaking view of the city.
So this is what being at the top feels like. Everything within reach. Complete control. Peace…
I wish I could have that every day.
But instead, I live in hell. And it's all because of that man.
"I guess you haven't eaten anything yet," Zhen Yichen's voice broke the silence. "You must be hungry, since you skipped breakfast."
Andre didn't reply.
"Eat."
Of course I'll eat. I care more about my own body than about avoiding you, hmph.
He walked over to a small lounge area in the corner of the office. On the low table sat a food package. Opening it, he found perfectly cooked Chinese fried rice and grilled fish.
…My favorite. How did he know?
Well, I guess he would.
The room fell back into quiet. The only sounds were the faint turning of paper from Zhen Yichen's desk and Andre's soft clinking of chopsticks. The strange rhythm almost felt… harmonious.
Bzz. Bzz.
Andre frowned. My phone?
He pulled it out and saw a message from his mom.
Mom: Ani, how's it going?
How's your day? Did you get a job?
Andre: Yes.
Mom: Oh, that's great! I knew my son would.
So what's the job?
How is it?
Andre: Assistant.
Mom: What! Assistant?!
Andre: Yes.
Mom: Is it with Yichen?
Andre: No. I wanted it.
Mom: Okay. Anything that makes you happy.
Have you eaten? It's already two o'clock.
Andre: Eating.
Mom: If you're in the office, please get something for Yichen to eat, okay?
Why would I? He's not a baby.
Mom: Ani?
Andre: Ok.
Andre set the phone down with a soft thud.
Finished with his lunch, he looked toward the man at the desk. His voice was barely audible, almost lazy:
"Come and eat. It's lunchtime."
Yet Zhen Yichen clearly heard. His head lifted, dark eyes meeting Andre's—this was the second time today the boy had spoken to him without being prompted.
Yichen studied him. The white hoodie, black joggers, and that effortlessly youthful air… his face delicate, almost beautiful. But his body—tall, broad-shouldered—spoke of someone far from fragile. If Yichen's memory was correct, Andre stood at 187 centimeters.
He rose from his desk, footsteps slow and deliberate, and crossed the space toward him.
Up close, the CEO's exhaustion was clear in the faint shadows under his eyes. But as his gaze lingered on Andre's face, something flickered—something he quickly suppressed.
He couldn't afford to think too far. He had too much to deal with. And this boy… this boy was Celia's world.
Yichen wouldn't destroy it.