Chapter Text
Hey beautiful(s), I hope you find time to be happy and not just strong :)
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Jaeyun's POV :
The glass-walled boardroom on the fifty-sixth floor of Aura Tech overlooks half of Seoul, all steel and sunlight and ambition. Even after four years, the sight still makes my chest tighten—not with awe, but with the weight of knowing exactly how much is at stake in rooms like this.
“Quarterly sales from the semiconductor division have exceeded projections by fifteen percent,” the Head of Strategy announces, gesturing toward the holographic display hovering above the table. “Our new AI-integrated chipsets are now leading the global market.”
Aura Tech never did things small.
A multi-billion-dollar conglomerate, the company had reshaped industries most people didn’t even fully understand—renewable energy grids powering entire cities, high-end semiconductors embedded in everything from medical equipment to defense systems. Innovation wasn’t just a buzzword here; it was survival.
I sit to the right of the head seat, tablet resting neatly in my hands, fingers moving almost automatically as I jot down key points. Revenue growth. Market expansion. Risk mitigation. I know this rhythm by heart.
“Jaeyun-ssi,” the CFO says, turning toward me, “can you confirm the figures from the European energy sector?”
“Yes,” I answer smoothly, not even glancing down. “The offshore wind projects reported a nine percent increase, primarily driven by our upgraded storage systems.”
A satisfied nod. The meeting continues.
I don’t look at him.
I never do during meetings—not unless I have to.
At the head of the long table sits Park Sunghoon, CEO of Aura Tech.
Even seated, he commands the room effortlessly. His suit is immaculate, posture relaxed but precise, dark eyes sharp as they move from one executive to another. He doesn’t interrupt often, but when he does, the room listens.
I watched the projected graphs fluctuate. Sales were up 14% this quarter, yet the atmosphere felt like a funeral because Sunghoon’s expectations didn't just meet the ceiling—they were the sky itself.
"The expansion into the European market is lagging," Sunghoon’s voice cut through the drone of the Chief Marketing Officer. It wasn't loud, but it had the sharp edge of a diamond. "I don’t want excuses. I want a strategy that reflects our valuation by Friday."
Sunghoon doesn’t need to raise his voice. Authority clings to him naturally, earned through years of decisive leadership and results that speak louder than words ever could.
He is everything Aura Tech represents—controlled brilliance, relentless drive, quiet power.
And he’s the reason I learned how to fall in love silently.
“Let’s proceed with the Southeast Asia expansion,” Sunghoon says at last, voice calm, decisive. “I want the rollout phased over the next two quarters. Jaeyun, make sure the action items are circulated by this evening.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply instantly.
The meeting adjourns soon after. Chairs scrape softly against the floor as executives gather their files and leave, conversations already shifting toward their next deadlines. Within minutes, the room empties, leaving behind only the hum of the building and the city far below.
Sunghoon stands, straightening his cuffs before turning to me.
“Jaeyun,” he says, “can you bring me the minutes of the meeting? I want to review them before my call with the board.”
“Of course,” I say, rising to my feet.
This is normal. Routine. The space we’ve occupied for years without naming it.
We walk out together, my steps automatically matching his. I hand him the tablet once we reach his office, careful as always to keep my expression neutral.
“Thank you,” he says, taking it from me. His fingers brush mine for the briefest moment, unintentional, meaningless.
My heartbeat disagrees.
“Let me know if you’d like a summarized version as well,” I add, professional to the last syllable.
He looks up then, meeting my eyes, and smiles.
It’s not the polished smile he uses in public or the restrained one he offers investors. It’s softer. Familiar.
“Always reliable,” he says. “I don’t know how Aura Tech would function without you.”
You would, I think quietly.
You just wouldn’t notice what’s missing.
I bow my head and step back, exiting his office before my thoughts can betray me.
Park Sunghoon is my boss.
The CEO of a multi-billion-dollar empire.
A man admired by the world.
And the one person I have loved for four years—without ever once allowing myself to believe I had the right to.
<3
I walked down the quiet, carpeted hallway toward the heavy oak doors of the CEO's suite. In my hand was a thick, cream-colored envelope embossed with gold leaf—an invitation from Lee Heeseung.
Heeseung was more than just the primary investor in Aura Tech; he was the person Sunghoon truly called a friend. His annual masquerade galas were the event of the season, and as the "most important investor," his invitations were effectively royal summons.
I pushed the door open quietly, expecting to find Sunghoon buried in quarterly reports. Instead, he was sitting at his desk, the harsh midday sun catching something metallic in his hand.
He didn't notice me at first. He was staring at a silver bracelet—simple, tarnished by time, and looking entirely out of place in an office that cost millions to furnish.
My breath hitched. I knew that bracelet. It was a relic from a lifetime ago, given to Sunghoon when he was just twelve years old by a boy who had been his entire world. Then, that boy had vanished, leaving behind nothing but a memory and that silver chain. For four years, I had watched Sunghoon hire private investigators and scour old school records, searching for a ghost.
Every time I saw that bracelet, it reminded me that the space in Sunghoon’s heart was already occupied by a shadow. How could I ever compete with a memory that had stayed perfect for over a decade?
Sunghoon blinked, finally noticing my presence, and quickly set the bracelet down on a velvet cloth. The vulnerability in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by his professional mask.
"Jaeyun. I didn't hear you come in," he said, his voice slightly raspy.
"Heeseung-ssi sent the invitation for the gala," I said softly. I walked over and placed the envelope on the desk, but I didn't leave.
I saw the way his fingers lingered near the silver links. The "Ice Prince" looked small in that moment, haunted by a twelve-year-old’s promise. Despite my own resolution to move on, the habit of caring for him was too deeply ingrained to ignore.
I moved around the desk and placed a steady hand on his shoulder. Through the expensive fabric of his suit, I could feel how tense he was.
"We’ll find him, Sunghoon," I said, my voice anchored by a lie that hurt to tell. "With the resources we have now... he won't stay lost forever."
Sunghoon sighed, leaning slightly into my touch—a rare moment of contact that made my skin tingle and my heart ache simultaneously. "It’s been so long, Jaeyun. Sometimes I wonder if I’m looking for someone who doesn't want to be found."
"You don't give up on the people you love," I whispered, mostly to myself. "That's just who you are."
He looked up at me, his dark eyes searching mine for a second too long. For a heartbeat, I thought he might say something else, but then his phone buzzed, the spell broke, and he was the CEO again.
Sunghoon’s hand came up, briefly covering mine where it rested on his shoulder. He gave it a firm, appreciative squeeze—the silent shorthand of a friendship that had survived grueling eighty-hour work weeks and high-stakes hostile takeovers.
"I don't know what I’d do without you, Jake," he murmured, using my English name, the one he only used when the doors were locked and the "CEO" persona was hung up with his overcoat.
"You'd probably forget to eat and end up fainting during a board meeting," I joked, though the humor felt brittle. I gently pulled my hand away, stepping back to maintain the professional boundary that was becoming increasingly harder to breathe within, "Which would be a PR nightmare, so please, stay hydrated."
He chuckled, the tension in his jaw finally melting. "Heeseung’s party is on Friday. I need you there, not just as my PA, but as my tether. You know how he gets after two glasses of vintage crystal—he’ll try to talk me into investing in a lunar colony again."
"I'll keep the checkbook out of reach," I promised.
I turned to the sleek, black console near his desk and began the ritual of the afternoon: prepping his schedule for the next quarter. In the corporate world of Aura Tech, silence was never just silence; it was the space between decisions that moved markets.
"The merger with Solstice Energy is in the final due diligence phase," I said, my voice shifting back to the crisp, administrative tone that kept this multi-billion dollar machine running. "I’ve cleared your Tuesday. You’ll need to review the intellectual property transfer. If there’s even a 0.01 percent discrepancy in the patent filings, the SEC will be breathing down our necks."
Sunghoon leaned back in his leather chair, watching me work. "And the offshore accounts for the R&D wing?"
"Sanitized and audited," I replied, tapping a rhythm on my tablet. "I had the legal team run a double-blind check. We’re airtight. You’re appearing on the cover of Global Finance next month, Sunghoon. We can't afford a single loose thread."
He nodded, his eyes tracking the way I organized his life with surgical precision. To anyone else, we were a powerhouse duo—the visionary architect and the master builder. We were a symphony of efficiency.
But as I looked at the silver bracelet still sitting on the desk, I realized I was the one who was a "loose thread." I was the person who knew the exact depth of his grief and the specific shade of his loneliness. I was his best friend, his confidant, and his most loyal soldier.
And yet, I was invisible in the one way that mattered.
"Go home, Jaeyun," Sunghoon said softly, noticing the way I lingered on the files. "That's an order. You’ve been here since 6:00 AM."
"I have a few more emails to—"
"Jaeyun." He stood up, walking around the desk until he was standing directly in my space, smelling of expensive sandalwood and the faint metallic tang of the office air. "Go. I'll see you tomorrow."
I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "Goodnight, Sunghoon."
As I walked out of the glass-walled sanctuary, the fluorescent lights of the empty office floor felt blinding. I passed the rows of workstations, the silent monitors reflecting the skyline of Seoul outside. I had built this life around him. Every file I organized, every crisis I averted, was a labor of love disguised as a job description.
But as I stepped into the elevator and watched the floor numbers countdown, I felt the finality of the day settling in my bones. I couldn't keep finding the person he loved for him. I couldn't keep being the best friend who watched him pine for a ghost while I pined for the man standing right in front of me.
The commute back to my apartment was a blur of neon lights and the rhythmic hum of the subway since my car was gone for it's regular service. By the time I turned the key in the lock of the place I shared with Jungwon, my shoulders were heavy with the exhaustion of the day.
The apartment was small but tasteful—a stark contrast to the sprawling minimalism of Sunghoon’s penthouse. The air smelled of expensive cologne and burnt toast.
Yang Jungwon, all twenty-five years of sharp features and focused energy, was hunched over the kitchen island. His laptop was open, and he was typing with a ferocity that made me fear for the integrity of his keyboard. Even in a simple oversized hoodie, he looked every bit the model he was—even if the rest of the world hadn't fully realized it yet.
"Rough day at the tech empire?" Jungwon asked without looking up, his fingers flying across the keys.
"The usual," I sighed, tossing my keys into the bowl by the door. "Calculated risks, high-stakes sales, and enough tension to power the city. You look like you’re at war. What are you typing so furiously?"
Jungwon finally paused, hitting 'Enter' with a final, satisfying click. He leaned back, rubbing his neck. "Answering an agency. A big one. They’ve been scouting me for a campaign in Milan, but the contract has more fine print than a legal textbook. I’m trying to negotiate the exclusivity clause without sounding like a diva."
He turned his chair around, his cat-like eyes narrowing as he studied my face. "You look drained, Hyung. Did the Ice Prince have you running in circles today?"
"He was... actually very human today," I said, sliding into the stool next to him. "He was looking at that bracelet again. The one from when he was twelve."
Jungwon’s expression softened. He had heard the story many times over the years. "Still looking for that ghost, huh? It’s been over a decade, Jaeyun hyung."
"I told him we'd find him," I admitted, staring at the dark screen of my phone. "I’m his PA, Jungwon. If he wants to find someone, it’s my job to make sure it happens. No matter how much it stings to watch him pine for someone else."
Jungwon reached out, patting my arm sympathetically. "You're the most loyal person I know. Just don't forget to take care of yourself while you're busy taking care of his heart."
"I'll try," I whispered. "Heeseung-hyung is throwing a gala on Friday. I have to be on top of my game. It's the biggest networking night of the year."
"Well," Jungwon grinned, closing his laptop. "If you're going to a Heeseung party, you’d better let me help you pick an outfit. If you're standing next to the CEO, you need to look like you own half the company too."
"Fine," I conceded with a small, tired smile. "I'll leave the outfit to the professional. Just nothing with too many sequins, okay? I still need to be able to hand out business cards without looking like a disco ball."
Jungwon let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest. "Hyung, have some faith. I’m going for ‘effortless executive elegance.’ You’ll look so good Sunghoon might actually forget to talk about semiconductors for five minutes."
I laughed, feeling the weight on my chest lighten just a fraction. "We'll see about that. Anyway, I’m starving. What do you want for dinner? My treat, since I’m making you work as my personal stylist."
Jungwon didn’t even have to think about it. "Spicy rice cakes and that honey-garlic chicken from the place down the street. And maybe some ramen? I had a light lunch for a shoot today and I’m ready to eat my weight in carbs."
"Coming right up," I said, pushing myself off the stool. "Give me fifteen minutes to wash the 'corporate' off me."
I retreated to my room, stripping off the stifling blazer and the silk tie that felt a little too much like a leash by the end of the day. After a quick, steaming shower that eased the knots in my shoulders, I pulled on a pair of soft grey sweats and a worn-out t-shirt. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I wiped the steam away and looked at myself. I didn't look like the right hand of a billionaire right now; I just looked like Jaeyun.
When I returned to the kitchen, the delivery had arrived, and Jungwon had already set out the bowls. I took over the stove to prep the ramen, adding green onions and soft-boiled eggs exactly the way he liked them. Jungwon 'helped' by hovering nearby, stealing pieces of chicken and giving me updates on the latest industry gossip—who was dating which designer and which models were being difficult on set.
"Here," I said, sliding a steaming bowl of noodles toward him.
"You’re a lifesaver, Hyung," he mumbled through a mouthful of food.
We moved to the living room, settling onto the overstuffed sofa that we’d spent way too much money on. Jungwon picked a mindless action movie—something with a lot of explosions and very little plot—knowing exactly what my brain needed after a day of analyzing market trends and managing Sunghoon’s moods.
As the blue light of the television flickered across the room, I felt the tension finally drain out of my limbs. Jungwon eventually leaned his head on my shoulder, half-asleep before the second act even started, his breathing deep and even.
I looked down at him, then out the window at the distant, glittering lights of the Aura Tech tower piercing the Seoul skyline. Out there, Sunghoon was likely still working, or perhaps staring at that silver bracelet, lost in a past I couldn't reach. My heart still hummed with that familiar, bittersweet ache for him, a quiet longing that never quite went away.
But as I adjusted the blanket over Jungwon’s legs and felt the warmth of our shared home, I realized that even if I was a shadow in Sunghoon’s world, I wasn't alone in mine. I had this—a quiet room, a full stomach, and a best friend who saw me even when I felt invisible.
For tonight, that was enough.
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