The first thing Y/N learned about CEO Kim Taehyung was this:
He did not smile.
Not at employees.
Not at investors.
Not at board members.
And definitely not at assistants.
The 34th floor of Vantex Holdings was silent in a way that didn't feel normal. It wasn't peaceful silence. It was controlled silence. The kind that existed because people were afraid to make mistakes.
She stepped out of the elevator clutching her new leather folder, trying to calm the nervous rhythm of her heartbeat.
First day.
Personal assistant to the CEO.
People either got promoted under him or destroyed under him.
There was no in-between.
She had heard stories already.
"He fired a marketing head during a presentation."
"He doesn't tolerate incompetence."
"He once ended a partnership mid-meeting because someone lied."
And yet…
The company's growth had tripled in three years.
He was ruthless.
And brilliant.
The frosted glass doors opened automatically as she approached reception.
"Good morning," she greeted softly.
The receptionist looked up with pity in her eyes.
"You're the new assistant?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Good luck."
That didn't help.
Before she could respond, the elevator behind her opened again.
The air shifted instantly.
Employees standing nearby straightened. Conversations died mid-sentence.
He stepped out.
Black suit. Perfectly tailored. No unnecessary accessories. Just a watch that probably cost more than her annual salary.
Kim Taehyung.
He didn't look at anyone.
He didn't need to.
His presence alone commanded the floor.
He walked forward with long, calm strides — controlled, effortless — like someone who was always three steps ahead of everyone else.
Y/N swallowed.
This was it.
She stepped forward.
"Good morning, sir. I'm your new assistant. Y/N."
He stopped.
Slowly turned his head.
And for the first time, his eyes landed on her.
Dark.
Sharp.
Unreadable.
There was no curiosity there. No warmth. Just assessment.
Like he was analyzing whether she would survive.
"You're early," he said.
His voice was deep. Smooth. Controlled.
"I thought it would be better to arrive before you."
A beat of silence.
He held her gaze a second longer than necessary.
Then turned away.
"Follow me."
No introduction. No handshake.
Just an instruction.
She followed him into his private office — a wide glass space overlooking the entire city.
Minimalist. Clean. Intimidating.
He removed his blazer, placing it precisely on the back of his chair.
"You have read the contract?" he asked without looking at her.
"Yes, sir."
"You understand that I do not repeat instructions."
"Yes."
"You understand that I expect discretion."
"Yes."
"And you understand that if you fail, you will not get a second chance."
Her grip tightened slightly around the folder.
"Yes."
Finally, he looked at her again.
"Good."
He sat down.
She remained standing.
He gestured to the chair opposite him.
"Sit."
She did.
He opened a file.
"You will manage my schedule, filter calls, handle confidential documents, and attend meetings. You speak when I ask you to speak."
Clear.
Simple.
Cold.
"Understood."
The morning went smoothly.
Too smoothly.
She memorized his preferences quickly.
Black coffee. No sugar. Exactly at 9:15.
Meeting summaries printed double-sided.
No interruptions during calls unless urgent.
By noon, she had begun to understand something about him.
He wasn't cruel.
He was precise.
There was a difference.
During the afternoon board meeting, she stood slightly behind him, tablet in hand.
He spoke calmly, dismantling a flawed proposal from one of the senior directors without raising his voice once.
"You're asking for expansion without secured capital," he said smoothly.
The director shifted uncomfortably.
"It's a calculated risk—"
"It's reckless," Taehyung corrected gently. "And I don't gamble with my company."
There was something fascinating about him.
He didn't dominate by volume.
He dominated by certainty.
After the meeting ended, employees filed out quickly.
She stayed behind to collect documents.
He stood near the window, hands in his pockets, watching the city below.
For a moment, without the boardroom tension, he looked different.
Less sharp.
More… distant.
"Your notes," he said suddenly.
She startled slightly.
"Yes?"
"Summarize the key risks mentioned. I want it on my desk in twenty minutes."
"Yes, sir."
She turned to leave.
"Y/N."
She paused.
"Yes?"
He hesitated — just briefly.
"You didn't speak during the meeting."
"You didn't ask me to."
A faint shift in his expression.
Not quite a smile.
But not indifference either.
"Good."
That single word felt almost like approval.
Almost.
It happened at 6:47 PM.
Her first mistake.
She was carrying two files and her laptop when one of the board members rushed past her near the hallway corner.
Her balance slipped.
The files fell.
Papers scattered across the polished floor.
Silence.
Of course.
Because he had just stepped out of his office.
She froze.
This was it.
First day.
Termination.
She dropped to her knees immediately, collecting pages quickly.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
Footsteps approached.
Stopped in front of her.
She braced herself.
Instead of criticism, he crouched down.
Without a word, he picked up the papers nearest to him.
Efficient.
Calm.
She blinked.
"You don't need to—"
"Next time," he said quietly, aligning the pages neatly before handing them back to her, "hold them against your chest."
Not harsh.
Not angry.
Instructional.
She looked up at him.
Up close, his features were even sharper. Perfectly composed. But his eyes… they weren't cruel.
Just guarded.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He stood first.
Held out his hand.
For a split second, she stared at it.
Then placed her hand in his.
He pulled her up smoothly.
His grip was firm.
Warm.
And he let go immediately.
Professional.
Controlled.
But something in that tiny moment lingered.
He noticed she had a faint paper cut forming on her finger.
His gaze paused there.
"You're bleeding."
"It's nothing."
He didn't argue.
But he walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and handed her a small bandage.
"Be careful," he said.
The same words from earlier.
But this time…
They felt different.
That night, most of the staff left before 8 PM.
She stayed.
She had reorganized his next three days of meetings and noticed an overlapping appointment.
When she knocked lightly on his office door, he answered immediately.
"Come in."
He was still working.
Of course he was.
"There's a conflict in Thursday's schedule," she said, placing the tablet on his desk.
He leaned closer to review.
Their shoulders almost touched.
She could feel the heat from him.
Smell the faint scent of his cologne.
Not overpowering.
Just clean.
He studied the screen.
"You moved the investor call."
"Yes. The charity board meeting runs longer than expected."
He glanced sideways at her.
"You adjusted it without asking."
Her stomach tightened.
"Yes. If it's wrong, I can—"
"It's correct."
Relief flooded her quietly.
"You think ahead."
"I try to."
Another pause.
He leaned back slightly, studying her face like he was re-evaluating something.
"Most assistants last three months."
She blinked.
"Why?"
"They get intimidated."
"And you?"
She met his gaze.
"I don't scare easily."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Interest.
It was small.
But it was there.
For the first time that day…
The corner of his lips lifted.
Not a full smile.
Just barely.
But it changed his entire face.
It softened him.
Humanized him.
And for a split second, she understood something dangerous:
The man who never smiled…
Had just smiled at her.
When she finally left the building at 9:32 PM, she didn't know one thing.
From inside his office, Taehyung was still standing by the window.
Watching her walk out safely.
He didn't know why he did it.
He had never watched an employee leave before.
Never cared whether they reached their car.
But tonight…
He waited until she disappeared from view.
Only then did he turn back inside.
He told himself it meant nothing.
She was competent.
Efficient.
Useful.
That was all.
But as he loosened his tie and ran a hand through his hair, he found himself replaying one specific moment:
Her hand in his.
Warm.
Soft.
Trusting.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Dangerous.
He had built his reputation on control.
And something about his new assistant…
Threatened it.
For the first time in years, Kim Taehyung felt something unfamiliar.
Anticipation.
And he wasn't sure whether to eliminate it—