She had said with no conviction as well.
First she leaned back in her massive leather chair, her voluptuous frame settling with a subtle creak, stared at him, silent for several long seconds.
And then, with her dark, raven eyes narrowing, she delivered the word like a final verdict: "No."
Dylan blinked, his chiseled jaw tightening as confusion washed over him.
After all the questions he'd asked himself, he was still troubled with the lack of answer.
His mind raced, frustration bubbling up, his hands clenching at his sides.
This wasn't a difficult ask.
He wasn't demanding for a promotion or a raise; he was offering to step down. What was so wrong about it?
"But I'm offering a lower wage demand… I mean, what company wouldn't want that?"
Asami Tachibana eyed him like he was an idiot, and then continued with the file in front of her. "This company apparently."
Dylan creased his brow, fists clenching. That has to be some kind of ragebait.
Before he could spiral further, he straightened, calming himself and steadying his voice, even though he was still puzzled by the whole thing.
"If it's because you're worried about filling the role, I can recommend someone. My secretary, Lacey. I think she's a good enough fit; she's sharp, efficient. She could handle it easily."
Asami's full lips curved into a faint, dismissive smirk. She was almost amused, like she thought he had a thing for his secretary.
She looked up at him, her high cheekbones casting shadows in the golden light from the windows.
She uncrossed her thick, stocking-clad legs, the pencil skirt riding up slightly over her wide hips, and shook her head slowly. "Still no, Mr. Lee. Lacey or anyone else isn't the issue."
Dylan's frustration deepened, a knot forming in his chest. He stepped forward slightly, his enigmatic eyes locking onto hers. "Then why? What's the problem with letting me start lower and build up?"
She sighed, rising from her chair.
Dylan paused.
He'd never really noticed but the H.O.D was a pretty stellar woman.
When she'd gotten up just now, her hentai-level curves had been displayed, her massive breasts strained against her blouse, and her rich dark hair fell over her feminine shoulders
She rounded the desk, causing him to catch a quick glimpse of her fat ass swaying.
Then she walked closer to him, slowly, like a tension building scene in a movie.
Her presence filled the room, a mix of stern authority and raw sensuality, her pale white skin glowing under the office lights.
She stopped inches from him, though her breasts were only a thread's distance from his chest. Her no-nonsense attitude radiated like heat from her body.
"Because it's ridiculous, that's why," she said, her voice direct and cutting, laced with a stern edge that brooked no argument.
Dylan grunted.
"You waltz in here with this naive little quest to 'prove yourself' as if demoting yourself will magically erase the fact that you're a nepo baby through and through."
"Did you think you're the first one to think of this? Mhm, smart guy?" she laughed. It sounded like the mocking laugh of a crow. "It's the signature move of someone who's had everything handed to them: think a symbolic gesture will make you 'one of the people.' Newsflash, Mr. Lee: it won't."
"You'll just clog up the lower ranks with your entitlement, expecting praise for slumming it. We've got real talent grinding for those spots, not silver-spoon types playing at hardship. So no, I'm not indulging your ego trip."
She jabbed her finger to his chest for emphasis, pressing firmly against the crisp white fabric of his shirt
"Stay where you are, do your job, and stop wasting my time."
But then she froze.
Dylan hadn't stopped time or did anything at all to her. She just kept her finger there, pressed to his chest.
Her nail dug in just enough to feel the solid muscle beneath.
Her eyes widened fractionally, like she was captured by something, surprised by a sudden emotion
It made her finger freeze on his firm chest.
"Uhm…"
She stared at the point of contact, transfixed, her breath hitching as a wave of unexpected heat flushed through her.
Her full lips parted slightly, her voluptuous body tensing, the stern facade cracking for a split second.
She felt her nipples harden.
Dylan's brow raised, confused. "Uhh, excuse me?"
She looked up, meeting his dark, shadowy gaze, and a shiver ran through her. She shook her head abruptly, placing a hand on her forehead as if to steady herself.
What was she doing? She thought.
Her cheeks flushed bright beneath her pale skin, her massive breasts heaving with a deep breath.
Dylan narrowed his eyes, his voice calm. "Are you okay?"
She looked away.
"Yes… whatever," she mumbled, her finger finally pulling away as if burned.
Stepping back, she took a second to compose herself with a sharp exhale. "Just... go back to your office and get back to your job. And stay there."
Dylan glared at her for a while, hiding a scoff as he turned on his heel, frustration churning in his gut.
'Fine. If that's how it is…'
He strode out, the frosted doors swinging shut behind him.
At this point, he knew something was definitely off with the way the company cared about him.
But then again, maybe he was reading too much into this. The company had no obligation to cater to his personal desires.
On another note, the weird freeze when she got too close had to be [Sovereignty] kicking in. It must have gotten stronger when she got closer to him, and from the looks of it, it affected her stronger than it did to some.
Should Asami be his next Bride Target?
[Asami Tachibana]
[Rank: Difficult Target]
She was ranked the same as Diana. Putting into consideration that he was only able to claim Diana because he blackmailed her, claiming Asami was going to be extremely difficult.
He needed higher stats for his Skills to work more efficiently, though the signs were promising.
Maybe if he made her a Bride Target, she would instantly agree to let him get demoted.
Thinking about her refusal irritated him. He was stuck, unable to build from the lowest point, trapped in this limbo role.
However, he still hadn't pulled his biggest card yet.
Resigning.
Quit entirely, start fresh somewhere else.
With 40 million in the bank, he didn't need this. He can prove himself without their strings.
The elevator dinged as it reached his floor.
Dylan stepped out, hands in his pockets, his mind buzzing with the plan.
But a few steps in, he collided with Lacey. Her shoulder bumped his chest in a hurried turn.
The coffee in her hand jolted, spilling hot liquid across her work blouse in a dark stain. She shrieked, the steam stinging her skin.
She lifted her head to berate him. Her mouth opened, fury flashing in her eyes. But then it faltered.
Whether it was [Sovereignty]'s subtle draw or the change in his demeanor from earlier, her words caught in her throat, her glare softening into submission.
Dylan stood still, hands in his pockets, his dark eyes meeting hers with a kind-of apology.
"Sorry," he said.
Lacey glanced down at the spreading stain, her blouse clinging wetly to her skin. "You've ruined my most expensive work blouse," she hissed, managing to express her anger without testing him.
"Then let me get you a new one," Dylan replied.
She laughed like she didn't believe him. "Haha, like you would actually do something like that."
Dylan didn't say anything.
She paused and looked up at him, her laughter fading as she searched his face. "Wait... are you being serious?"
"How about that boutique across the road?"
She laughed again. Of course he was joking. "You mean Diamonds? They only sell the top brands there. Nothing is less than half a thousand."
"Okay," Dylan said. "Let's go then."
Lacey's laugh disappeared for the second time, her posture shifting from defensive to baffled.
'Is he being serious right now?'