Chapter Text
The view from the Executive Director’s office was designed to make a man feel like a god. From behind the floor-to-ceiling tinted glass, the world was silent, filtered, and entirely under Park Chanyeol’s control. He stood with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the marble floor.
Below him, the main lobby of the Strategic Planning Division was a chaotic hive of activity. It was the first day for the new interns. Five small figures stood near the reception desk, looking nervous and insignificant. Chanyeol’s gaze drifted over them with practiced apathy—until it stopped.
The air in his lungs suddenly turned to lead.
Among the five, one figure stood out with a terrifying clarity. The blonde hair, the slope of the shoulders, the way he tilted his head when he listened—it was a silhouette etched into the darkest corners of Chanyeol’s memory.
Byun Baekhyun.
Five years. For five years, Chanyeol had lived in a state of suspended animation, haunted by a ghost who had vanished from their university dorm without leaving so much as a note. He had spent nights searching, months grieving, and years hardening his heart into a fortress of ice.
And now, the ghost was standing in his lobby.
Baekhyun was laughing at something the chatterbox beside him was saying. It was that same smile. That vibrant, heart-stopping curve of the lips that used to be the only thing capable of calming Chanyeol’s Alpha instincts. For a split second, the ice shattered. Chanyeol’s heart hammered against his ribs, a traitorous surge of longing pulling him toward the glass.
He’s back. He’s finally back.
But as Chanyeol leaned closer, his eyes narrowing, the longing hit a jagged wall. There was a change. It wasn't just the small, faint scar tracing his brow.
Baekhyun reached up, a nervous habit, and adjusted the stiff collar of his cheap intern blazer. As the fabric shifted, the morning light from the lobby windows hit the pale skin of his neck.
There, on the delicate curve of his scent gland, sat a dark, mottled patch of ruined skin.
A claimed mark.
Chanyeol’s breath hitched, hitching in his throat like a shard of glass. The world didn't just tilt; it burned. That mark wasn't just a scar; it was a brand. It was a receipt of every night Baekhyun had spent in another man’s bed while Chanyeol was rotting in his own loneliness. It was the ultimate, undeniable proof of betrayal.
Chanyeol’s hand curled into a trembling fist, his knuckles turning white. The heat in his chest curdled, turning from the fire of love into the acid of pure, unadulterated rage.
He stared down at the Omega, his eyes turning cold and predatory. The man below wasn't his lover anymore. He was an intruder. A traitor who dared to walk back into Chanyeol’s kingdom wearing another Alpha's signature on his skin.
A low, dark chuckle escaped Chanyeol’s throat—a sound devoid of any humor.
"You dare to show yourself to me again?" he whispered against the cold glass, his voice a lethal promise. "With another man’s mark?"
The longing didn't just fade; it died. In its place grew a cold, calculated hunger for ruin. Baekhyun had spent five years hiding in the shadows; if he was foolish enough to step back into the light, Chanyeol would make sure the glare was blinding.
He wouldn't just fire him. That was too easy. He would make the air in this building so thin that Baekhyun would suffocate. He would make him crawl back to whatever hole he came from.
Chanyeol turned away from the window, his voice cutting through the intercom like a blade.
"Manager Kang. Bring the interns up. Now."