Third Person's pov:
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Today unfolds like any other at Kim Enterprises,a day filled with fast-paced meetings, tight project deadlines and contracts being signed with practiced ease.
Kim Enterprises wasn't just a company; it was a symbol. Ranked as one of the top corporations in all of Korea, it had become a dream destination for professionals across continents.
With its reputation for excellence, generous salaries, and consistent employee incentives,it had earned both prestige and admiration.
At the heart of it all sat the company's CEO Taemin. Known for his sharp intellect and colder-than-winter demeanor, he was the kind of man who demanded precision.
Yet behind that hardened image was a leader who acknowledged effort, rewarding diligence with generous bonuses and annual getaways that earned him a quiet kind of loyalty from his workforce.
Currently, he was in his office,his private sanctuary,immersed in his work for two straight hours. Documents were spread across his desk, and the soft hum of the air conditioning blended with the scratch of his pen on paper. A typical day for a man married to his ambition.
But the rhythm breaks with a gentle knock.
"Sir? May I come in?",Junki's voice flows through the door, his tone respectful, carrying a folder Taemin recognizes even before it's visible.
"Come in," Taemin answers, his voice laced with quiet authority. He sets aside the document he'd been reviewing for the past hour, his eyes now fixed on the folder that Junki carries an object that feels more like a memory than a file.
"This is what you asked for," Junki says, stepping forward and handing over the folder with both hands. Taemin accepts it without a word, his fingers brushing the worn leather cover, his expression hard to decipher.
This wasn't just any folder. It had once belonged to his late aunt, Aera,a woman whose presence had once filled his hollowness.
As the folder rests in his hands, the surface almost seems to pulse with the weight of memories.
His mind begins to drift, involuntarily replaying fragments of a childhood haunted by silence, by the absence of parents, and the quiet presence of a woman who never stopped trying to reach him.
He remembers the sound of her laughter in a quiet house,he remembers the way she never forced him to speak like everyone did yet how she always made her love known. In moments like these, even silence feels loud.
"Boss, are you okay?" Junki's voice slices through his thoughts gently. Taemin's eyes blink back into focus, and he shakes his head slightly, brushing away the fog of memory.
He opens the folder slowly, as he's afraid it might vanish if he moved too fast. Inside lie two letters neatly folded, one bearing his name in familiar handwriting, the other labeled with a different name.
Nestled between them are a few trinkets, small accessories that once belonged to her,and Some which belonged to the person's she is close,telling a story that was no longer being written.
Slowly his hand grazes over them, the textures igniting emotions too tangled to name.
Drawing a breath,he unfolds the letter called To Taewon.
The script on it,instantly familiar, makes his chest tighten. With every line he reads, emotions flit across his face,grief like a tide, frustration etched into his brows, the distant flicker of something unspoken behind his eyes.
Junki remains still, understanding that this isn't just a letter,as he knows the importance and impact of it.
After a few minutes reading,Taemin folds the letter with a quiet sigh, his posture stiff, yet heavy with something more.
His eyes drift to the second letter. The name on it makes his fingers curl into fists against his knees,tight, unmoving.
A silent war starts behind his own desire and Aera's wish,at last his desire loses,letting a helpless sign out.
"Junki," he says, voice sharper now. "Find this person. And do your job."
Junki nods once, firm and understanding, and exits without another word.
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_________ ******___________
"Boss! I'm here!,I've done everything you asked. You can start now," Junki says through the phone, voice steady but urgent.
With steady steps tae enters into his cabin, takes a seat at his desk, and unlocks his PC with a practiced motion. A few swift clicks, and he initiates a video call through Google Duo.
His fingers interlock, resting just beneath his chin as he leans forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the monitor waiting for the receiver respnose.The seconds drag. The call rings. And keeps ringing.
As the wait stretches longer than expected, a familiar shift begins to ripple across his features.
His calm expression begins to harden. The slight twitch in his jaw. The tongue pressed to his cheek. A quiet storm rising beneath the surface.
Then, finally—the call connects,displaying a stranger to him.
Within few seconds the tension in his shoulders falters. A new emotion settles in a silent, unfamiliar kind of pull,as a face of handsome boy appears on his screen.
That boy leans closer into the frame of desktop, and for a moment making the world outside that screen vanish for taemin,before he brings himself back.
"Hyun?" Taemin says, his voice low but clear, something unreadable tightening in his chest. "Are you Min Hyun?"
The figure on the screen sits up abruptly, as though startled by the name by the recognition in Taemin's voice.
And somewhere, between the flickering pixels and their locked eyes, something unspoken begins to stir.
2 hours before
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"Yeah!,finally today I got a day off from my work.now I'll make some new dish that didn't exist in this whole world",Hyun thoughts smiling internally.
A rare grin tugged at the corners of his lips today was a day off.Jangwoon was out. The kitchen was his kingdom, and he was free to create something the world had never tasted.
With a practiced hand, he lowered the flame and gently placed a lid over the pan. Just as he turned to reach for a fresh herb, the ringing of the doorbell sliced through the tranquil moment.
Brows furrowed, he wiped his hands on his apron and opened the door.
Standing there was a man,late twenties, tall, impeccably dressed in a sleek black suit that contrasted the bright smile carved onto his undeniably handsome face. His presence was bold, and oddly charismatic.
"Hello!(Annyeong)Min hyun-ssi,finally we meet.Nice to meet you!" the man said, extending his hand with enthusiasm that didn't quite match the puzzled look forming on Hyun's face.
"Annyeong haseyo(hello) I think?"
Hyun replied cautiously, his tone dipped in confusion as he accepted the handshake with hesitation.
"I'm Lee Junki," the man beamed, as though they were long-lost friends.
Hyun blinked. "Oh!,how do you know my name?"
"Mr. Jeon, do you like playing games?",
Junki interjected smoothly, swerving the conversation with the ease of someone who had rehearsed this moment.
Hyun's curiosity peaked, his inner gamer momentarily overriding his suspicion.
"Games? Of course."
"Then let's play one. I promise you'll enjoy it," Junki said before casually stepping into the house like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Excuse me?! You can't just enter a stranger's house like that," Hyun exclaimed, trailing behind him.
"Trust me I'm no harm.wait!, is it a flying duck!" Junki says pointing towards the TV,entering into the hall.
"That's not a duck, that's a pigeon,",the chef corrected flatly, briefly distracted by a TV documentary on birds flickering in the background.
"Oh. My bad," Junki shrugged, completely unfazed, casually adjusting himself at the small yet spaced sofa,before opening his backpack.
Moments later, he places his laptop infront typing with intent. The clicking keys were the only sound for a moment until Hyun, whose patience was wearing thin, spoke again.
"Excuse me.what do you think you are doing?-"
"It's ready!" Junki announced, rising from the chair. "Mr.Hyun, this is the game I mentioned. Sit here. Just five minutes. That's all you need to win."
Hyun stared, bewildered. "Are you serious?"
"I'm not serious," Junki quipped with a wink. "I'm Lee Junki, son of Lee Henki."
Hyun's expression was a picture of disbelief.
"Are you… crazy?,why are you-" he asked, voice sharp with disbelief and a trace of concern.
"I already told you I'm Junki. Why can't you remember my name?" Junki pouted theatrically.
Hyun bit the inside of his cheek, unsure whether to throw him out or laugh at the sheer absurdity.
"Look. Mr. Lee Junki-"
"You can call me Junki," the man said again, too cheerfully.
Hyun exhaled slowly.
"Haha," Junki suddenly chuckled, the teasing tone falling away.
"I'm really sorry, Mr. Hyun. I wanted to make a strong first impression, that's all." His voice softened. "As for why I came? I'll answer every question. But only if you sit here for five minutes. Just five."
His phone buzzed in his pocket, flashing Taemin on the screen. His smile faded just slightly, seriousness returning to his face. Hyun noticed the shift.
"Fine," he said after a beat, drawn in by the gravity in Junki's eyes. He sat, curiosity outweighing caution.
Junki gave him one last glance before stepping outside to answer the call.
Silence settled in the room as the laptop's screen flickered to life. At first, all Hyun could see was a distant figure from the desktop, where the other person barely visible, seated far from the camera.
But as seconds passed, that particular person in coat leaned closer, and Hyun's breath hitched.
A man whom he didn't witnessed in his life appeared, perfectly framed within the screen.
His expression was carved from ice sharp jawline, intense gaze, and a quiet strength that filled the space between pixels. Something about him made the room feel colder.
Hyun leaned in, involuntarily drawn by the intensity. The moment their eyes locked, it felt like everything else in the world dulled into a blur.
"Hyun?. Are you Min Hyun?",the ceo asked, his voice low, calm, yet somehow commanding.
The words reverberated through Hyun like a current. He sat frozen, every nerve humming with a strange electricity. His mouth parted slightly, but no answer came.
"Mr.Hyun?" the man asked again,his tone exactly the same, but somehow it felt heavier.
And yet Hyun couldn't move. Couldn't breathe properly. Couldn't think.
His mind had abandoned logic, memory, speech. Only one thought echoed over and over like a chant, rattling in his bones:
He is…..handsome.