The air in Taekyun's office was already thick with the tension of a looming merger deadline. Spreadsheets and contracts littered his desk, a monument to his unending responsibilities. So when the door opened without a secretary's announcement and Yuna swept in, his first reaction wasn't excitement or even warmth. It was a sharp, unexpected spike of irritation.
He looked up from his documents, his expression a flat, impassive mask. "Yuna. What are you doing here?"
She ignored the chill in his voice, her face a perfect picture of wounded beauty. Her lower lip trembled as she rushed around the desk. "Oppa! Why are you ignoring me? You don't reply to my texts, you don't pick up my calls!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder.
Taekyun remained rigid in his chair, his own arms staying at his sides. He didn't return the embrace. "I told you. I'm busy with work," he said, his tone weary. "And I've told you repeatedly to stop visiting me here."
