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There were a few constants at KaibaCorp.
First, Seto Kaiba was never late. Second, he didn’t like small talk. Third, you didn’t speak unless spoken to. And fourth—most important of all—you did not gossip about the CEO, unless you wanted to be reassigned to the most miserable department in the building, which was, as legend had it, the server room on sub-basement level three.
So when the elevator chimed that morning and Mokuba Kaiba bounded out of it—grinning, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other—the lobby collectively straightened like kids caught mid-prank.
But Mokuba didn’t notice. Or he didn’t care.
He waltzed through the glass doors of the executive wing with a dramatic flair worthy of someone who wasn’t afraid of his older brother.
“Nice tie, Seto!” he called out. “Trying to impress someone?”
From their desks scattered around the floor, the employees froze. Heads turned. Keyboards stopped clacking.
Kaiba’s tie was navy. Perfectly knotted, sharp and clean—but different. Not the usual charcoal gray or black.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” came the cold, expected reply from inside the office.
Mokuba only laughed louder.
“You never wear blue unless you’re seeing him. Come on. Atem is totally going to notice. You should’ve gone with the maroon one though—it brings out your eyes better.”
A dead silence fell across the floor.
Kaiba. With someone?
Kaiba. Dressing to impress?
Kaiba. Blue for someone’s eyes?
A whisper. “Did Mokuba just say Atem?”
No one dared speak above a breath. But eyes met. Brows lifted. Fingers hovered over keys, forgotten.
Then came the voice. Seto Kaiba. Calm. Measured. But not cold.
“I like the blue. And Atem said he liked it the last time.”
Oh my god.
He’s quoting his boyfriend.
No one moved.
No one could move.
Mokuba, ever the chaotic younger sibling, laughed like he was on a sitcom.
“Oh my god, you’re actually blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are!”
“If you don’t leave, I’ll have you reassigned to accounting.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I might.”
“You’re just mad because I know you’re in love with him.”
That was it. That was the moment the world tilted.
Every employee within earshot—fifteen, maybe twenty—held their breath so hard the air pressure in the building changed.
And Seto—Seto Kaiba—who once yelled at a junior manager for putting two sugars instead of one in his coffee, replied not with rage, not with ice, but with a low, vulnerable murmur.
“Of course I’m in love with him,” he said. “I’ve been in love with him since Duelist Kingdom. One day, I’ll marry him.”
Silence.
Then Mokuba’s quiet, “…you mean that?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
And just like that, the door hissed shut behind them.
The silence held a beat longer.
And then—
“Holy shit,” whispered Tomoko, the VP’s executive assistant, clutching her coffee like it was the only thing tethering her to this plane of existence.
“I thought he didn’t believe in love,” murmured Hiroto from finance, eyes wide.
“He just said—he said marry—”
“Did anyone record that?!” came a panicked voice.
“Shut up! You want to die today?!”
Later that day, the floor felt… different.
Not in the way of gossip or malice—no. There was awe, reverence, warmth.
They remembered.
They remembered the bruised boy from the tabloids, the one who clawed his way out of nothing, protecting his little brother with every breath. They remembered the young CEO who barely smiled, barely breathed, and the tension he carried like armor forged from survival. They remembered wondering if he’d ever let anyone close.
And today, they heard the answer.
Yami Atem.
The ancient soul. The impossible king. The only one who had stood across a duel from Kaiba and looked into his soul—and not flinched.
Seto Kaiba wasn’t cold because he was cruel. He was cold because the world taught him that warmth was a weakness.
Until Atem.
By the afternoon, Kaiba strode out of his office like always. Suit pristine, eyes sharp, aura untouchable.
But this time, something was different.
Not in him—in them.
No one shrank from him. No one hid.
Instead, as he passed, subtle smiles followed. Not mocking. Not invasive.
Proud.
Mika from PR murmured to Yuuto in the elevator, “He’s not the man we feared. He’s the boy we forgot needed saving.”
Yuuto nodded. “And someone did.”