The conference room was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that echoed—even over the distant hum of Seoul traffic and the faint clicking of Yuna Saeki's heels against marble flooring. The windows stretched floor to ceiling, casting long shadows across the room, but none of that light ever seemed to reach her.
She stood at the head of the table, tablet in hand, eyes scanning the last few lines of the contract she already knew by heart.
He was late.
She hated tardiness. Disrespect dressed up in excuses. But more than that, she hated unnecessary noise. And that boy—Kang Rin Kiyama, Japan's most adored idol—he was all noise.
A knock.
Yuna didn't look up.
"Send him in," she said calmly.
The door opened, and the room shifted like it could feel the change in temperature.
He strolled in with the casual swagger of someone who lived under flashing lights. Platinum silver rings on his fingers, dark hair falling messily across his forehead, and a smile that looked like it belonged in a commercial.
Fake. Too perfect. Too bright.
"CEO Saeki," Rin said, his voice honey-smooth and practiced. He gave a slight bow—just enough to be respectful, not enough to be sincere.
Yuna finally looked up.
Cold eyes met warmth that wasn't real.
"You're ten minutes late."
He smiled wider.
"You're ten minutes too early."
He pulled out the chair across from her, sat without being told, and let his head tilt just slightly as he watched her with amused eyes—like this was a game he already knew how to win.
Yuna didn't blink.
"If this is your idea of charm, keep it. I have enough."
"You must be drowning in it," he replied smoothly, propping his chin on his hand. "With how everyone's afraid to breathe around you."
She ignored the jab.
"Let's get this over with."
"What if I want it to last?" he murmured.
Yuna paused. That line wasn't said in his idol voice. It came from somewhere quieter, somewhere beneath the surface. A flicker—gone in a second, replaced by that grin again.
She handed him the contract, and their fingers brushed.
His were warm. Soft. Not what she expected.
He looked at the paper, then at her again.
"Do you actually read all of these?"
"Unlike you," she said coolly, "I don't sign my life away with a smile."
He laughed softly. Real this time. She hated how nice it sounded.
"So serious. Do you ever have fun?"
"Do you ever shut up?"
He leaned back, stretching his long legs out beneath the table. Their knees nearly touched, and he didn't move. Neither did she.
Then, his tone changed.
"You don't like idols, do you?"
Yuna closed the tablet.
"I don't like distractions. And you're a walking one."
"You mean I'm pretty."
"I mean you talk too much."
He smiled again, but this time, something behind it faltered—just a tiny crack. Like maybe, for one second, he wasn't performing.
Yuna saw it. Filed it away.
"Let's keep things professional," she said. "You're here because of a merger, not because I want you here."
"Then you're already different," Rin said softly, voice almost too low to hear.
Yuna raised an eyebrow.
"How so?"
He looked her dead in the eyes.
"Everyone else wants me."
Silence. Heavy. Charged.
Yuna stood.
"You'll sign the documents today. I don't care if you smile while doing it or not. But if you want my respect—"
He interrupted her, quietly.
"Do you ever rest?"
She blinked. That one caught her off guard.
"Excuse me?"
He stood now too, taller than she thought. He moved toward her—not fast, not slow. Measured. Controlled.
When he was only inches away, he looked down at her—not like he was trying to intimidate, but like he was trying to figure her out.
"You look tired," he said, voice soft. "Not the kind of tired you can fix with sleep."
Yuna's heart thudded once. Loud. She hated that.
"You don't know me," she said coldly.
"Not yet," he whispered.
And then, before she could stop him, his fingers reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
A touch so light it shouldn't have meant anything.
But it did.
Too close. Too familiar. Too intentional.
He stepped back immediately, smile back in place.
"Nice meeting you, CEO Saeki," he said with a little bow. "Let's have fun working together."
And just like that, he was gone. Leaving her standing there, fingers brushing the place he'd touched her.
Not blushing. Not flustered.
But annoyed.
And maybe, just maybe… curious