Wednesday started with a war declaration I didn't even see coming.
I walked into the office at 8:25 a.m. (early, because I'm not an idiot), expecting the usual ice-cold greeting from Kang Dae-Hyun.
Instead, I found chaos.
My old desk—safely tucked in the open-plan assistant area with the other PAs—was gone.
Completely empty. Like it had never existed.
In its place: a sleek new desk.
Right outside his office door.
Like a guard dog station.
Everyone on the floor was pretending not to stare, but the whispers were loud enough to hear from the elevator.
"That's the CEO's direct line now…" "She's either getting promoted or punished." "Poor girl. He's never moved anyone this close before."
I dropped my bag, heart sinking.
This wasn't convenience.
This was surveillance.
The man himself appeared in his doorway, coffee in hand, looking annoyingly perfect in a charcoal suit.
"Good morning, Miss Han," he said, voice smooth as poison. "New desk. Better efficiency."
I forced a smile. "You moved my desk without asking?"
"You're my personal assistant. I decide where you sit."
Possessive much?
I glanced at the desk. It was gorgeous—glass top, ergonomic chair, even a fancy monitor. But it was literally five steps from his door. No privacy. No escape.
"Cool," I said brightly. "So now I'm your emotional support human?"
His lips twitched. Almost a smirk. "Something like that."
I sat down, boots mentally strapped.
Game on.
10:12 a.m. – The Criticism Avalanche Begins
First meeting of the day: quarterly review with department heads.
I was taking minutes, fingers flying over my tablet.
Dae-Hyun was in full shark mode—grilling the finance director about budget overruns.
Then, out of nowhere:
"Miss Han."
Everyone turned.
I looked up. "Yes?"
"Your posture is terrible. Sit up."
I blinked.
The finance director coughed into his fist to hide a laugh.
I straightened slowly, smiling through gritted teeth. "Better?"
"Marginally." He turned back to the presentation like nothing happened.
Five minutes later:
"Miss Han, your typing is too loud. Use the silent mode."
Ten minutes after that:
"Miss Han, stop swinging your foot. It's distracting."
By the end of the meeting, the entire room was trying not to laugh. I was ready to launch my pen at his head.
When everyone filed out, I stayed.
He didn't look up from his notes. "Problem?"
"Yeah," I said, crossing my arms. "You've criticized my breathing next? Too loud? Not elegant enough?"
He finally met my eyes. "You're representing me now. Standards matter."
"Or," I said sweetly, "you're just in a bad mood because someone sent me flowers yesterday."
His pen stopped moving.
Jackpot.
He leaned back, expression unreadable. "I don't care who sends you flowers."
"Liar. You told me to throw the rose away."
"It was distracting."
"From what? Your winning personality?"
He stood up—slow, deliberate—and walked around the desk until he was right in front of me.
Too close. Again.
"I moved your desk," he said quietly, "because I need you close. Overtime starts tonight. 8 p.m. We're reviewing the Japan contract."
I tilted my head. "Overtime on day three? Romantic."
His jaw tightened. "It's work."
"Sure. Whatever you say, boss."
I walked out before he could reply.
But I felt his eyes on my back the whole way.
1:30 p.m. – Enter Sunbae, Stage Left
I was grabbing a quick salad in the cafeteria when it happened.
"Hyemi-ya!"
Lee Min-Ho again. This time in a navy suit, holding a tray like he belonged here.
I nearly choked on my lettuce. "Sunbae! You're… here again?"
"Client lunch upstairs." He grinned that lethal smile. "Mind if I join?"
Before I could answer, he was already sitting.
We talked easily—old uni stories, mutual friends, how he'd just closed a big deal.
Then he reached over and gently tugged a strand of hair from my lip gloss.
Classic K-drama move.
My heart did a tiny flip. Not because of him.
Because I felt that glare again.
I looked up.
Kang Dae-Hyun stood at the cafeteria entrance, tray in hand (shocker—he was actually eating?), staring straight at us.
Min-Ho noticed too. "Your boss really doesn't like me."
"He doesn't like anyone."
"Especially anyone touching you."
I laughed it off. "Don't be ridiculous."
But when I glanced back, Dae-Hyun was gone.
And my phone buzzed.
CEO Kang: My office. Now.
I sighed. "Duty calls. Rain check?"
Min-Ho stood, taking my hand—wrist grab alert—and squeezing lightly. "Dinner tomorrow? I know a great Italian place."
I hesitated. "I'll… let you know."
He smiled. "I'll text you."
I walked away feeling two sets of eyes: one warm and flirty, one burning holes in my back.
2:15 p.m. – The Desk Move Backfires Spectacularly
I entered his office ready for battle.
He was at his desk, typing furiously.
"You needed me?"
"Close the door."
I did.
He didn't look up. "Who was that in the cafeteria?"
"None of your business."
Now he looked up. Eyes sharp. "You're on company time."
"So are you. Stalking much?"
He stood again—why did he keep doing that?—and walked over.
"I'm not stalking. I'm observing my employee making poor choices."
"Poor choices? Having lunch?"
"Flirting on company time."
I laughed out loud. "You're jealous."
The word hung in the air.
His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.
"I don't get jealous," he said coldly. "I get annoyed when my assistant wastes time."
"Right. That's why you moved my desk five feet from your door. For efficiency."
"Exactly."
We were close now. Too close.
I could see the faint shadow on his jaw, the way his tie was slightly loosened.
Hot. Annoying. Dangerous.
"Then stop criticizing my posture," I said quietly. "And my typing. And my foot. Unless you want everyone to know you're obsessed."
He leaned in—just an inch.
"I'm not obsessed. I'm in control."
I smirked. "Keep telling yourself that."
I turned to leave.
"Miss Han."
I paused.
"Overtime tonight. Don't be late."
"Yes, sir."
8:00 p.m. – Overtime Hell (And Thunder)
The office was empty. Just us.
Spreadsheets everywhere. Japan contract glowing on the big screen.
He was in shirtsleeves now, tie gone, top button undone.
I was pretending not to notice how good he looked tired.
We worked in tense silence for an hour.
Then the sky cracked open.
Thunder. Loud. Close.
I looked up.
Dae-Hyun had frozen.
Hand mid-air. Jaw locked. Eyes on the window.
Another boom.
He flinched—barely, but I saw it.
I remembered the rumors. Childhood trauma. Fear of thunder.
I didn't say anything.
Just quietly moved my chair closer.
Not touching. Just… there.
The storm raged outside.
He didn't move.
After five minutes, he exhaled—slow, shaky.
Then went back to work like nothing happened.
I pretended I hadn't noticed.
But something shifted.
Tiny. Quiet.
Dangerous.
11:30 p.m. – Girlie Debrief Gone Wild
I finally got home, collapsed on the couch, and video-called the squad.
They answered in chaos—wine, snacks, pajamas.
"SPILL!" Nari yelled.
I told them everything: desk move, criticism spree, cafeteria wrist-grab, overtime thunder moment.
Seoyeon whistled. "He's down bad."
"He hates me."
"Hate and want are roommates, babe," Ara said calmly.
Jiwon: "The thunder thing… that's big. He let you see it."
Me: "He didn't let me. It just happened."
Nari: "Classic episodic story trope! Possessive boss era activated!"
Then we switched to the case.
Nari had hacked (ethically, she swears) the lunch schedules.
"Three people are always out of the building between 2:10 and 2:20. Security guard on break. Cleaning ajumma on different floor. And… the VP's wife."
Seoyeon: "The VP's wife has access?"
Ara: "And motive. She's flashy. Always new bags."
Me: "Tomorrow we stake out."
Plan set: Seoyeon brings disguises. Nari brings snacks. Jiwon brings common sense. Ara brings wisdom.
We hung up buzzing.
I fell asleep smiling.
Because tomorrow?
The fun really begins.
And Kang Dae-Hyun?
He has no idea what he's started.