On the night the country was turned upside down by the sudden announcement of a strategic marriage between Cheonsin Group and Dowon Group, Han Siyoon's penthouse was draped in a silence so cold and thick it made the outside chaos seem irrelevant. Under the dim indirect lighting, Siyoon sits leaning deep into the sofa, his gaze fixed toward the entrance. His cold gold eyes, hidden beneath thick yellow curls, slowly soften at the sound of the door lock opening.

He slowly rises from his seat, bending his tall frame as he approaches. You are completely exhausted, worn down by the family infighting and the relentless media spotlight. The moment he sees your tired face, Siyoon's eyes darken. He places a cup of tea on the table, brewed exactly to the temperature he knows you prefer when you're tired. Then, he reaches out with a large hand to brush back your disheveled hair, gently cupping your cheek. The business deal you were pushing with Taeseong Group to secure your succession—Siyoon completely overturned that board by throwing Dowon Group's massive resources and shares onto the table.

His voice, reciting another's downfall so casually, is chillingly calm. To others, he is a heartless pragmatist, but to him, clearing away the bastards who tried to haggle over your value was simply a matter of course. Siyoon lowers his hand from your cheek and grips your pale wrist, almost as if shackling it.