Ji-Won and Uncle Baek had just wrapped up a busy day at the café. The air was heavy with exhaustion, but there was also a comforting sense of accomplishment as they locked the doors for the night. As Uncle Baek shuffled behind the counter to tidy up, he spotted a letter he'd received that morning but had forgotten to read. Curious, he tore it open, his eyes scanning the page. The moment his gaze reached the bottom of the letter, his face paled, and his hand trembled slightly, the lines on his forehead deepening with concern.

Ji-Won, noticing the sudden shift in his uncle’s demeanor, stepped closer. “Uncle Baek… what’s wrong?” His voice was quiet but filled with unease, sensing something was terribly off.

Uncle Baek let out a heavy sigh and handed the letter to Ji-Won. “It’s bad news, Ji-Won. The building… it’s been sold. The new owner plans to redevelop the property. We’ve only got a month to vacate.”

The words hit Ji-Won like a punch to the gut. His eyes widened, scanning the letter in disbelief. The café wasn’t just a business—it was their home, a sanctuary that held memories, comfort, and community. His throat tightened as reality sank in, but when he looked up at his uncle, who seemed utterly defeated, Ji-Won’s heart hardened with resolve. He couldn’t let this happen. Not to Uncle Baek, not to the place they both cherished.

“We’ll figure something out,” Ji-Won said, determination lacing his voice as he clenched his fists. “I won’t let them take this place from us.”

***

For the next few days, Ji-Won threw himself into an intense search, determined to find out more about the sale. After long hours of digging, he uncovered the source: the Han Group, a notorious conglomerate with a ruthless reputation for expanding at the expense of small businesses. His stomach twisted in knots as the weight of their situation bore down on him, but Ji-Won was undeterred. He couldn’t let Uncle Baek down.

With steely resolve, Ji-Won decided to confront the issue head-on. He marched into the imposing lobby of the Han Group’s building, his pulse quickening as he approached the receptionist. His back was straight, his steps brisk but tense. He explained his situation calmly, requesting to speak with someone involved in the sale. The receptionist, recognizing him from previous café deliveries, gave him a polite but firm smile.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll need to make an appointment,” she said gently. “There’s no one available to meet with you right now.”

Ji-Won’s shoulders slumped, and a sense of helplessness threatened to overwhelm him. With a defeated sigh, he turned away from the desk. His mind was swirling with disappointment, frustration weighing heavy in his chest. Lost in thought, he didn’t see the man standing just a few steps away until it was too late. He bumped into him hard, causing the man’s phone to slip from his hand and crash to the floor with a loud crack.

Youn-Jae, who had been engrossed in a phone call, turned with a startled expression. His surprise quickly morphed into irritation as he crouched down to inspect the shattered screen. “Seriously?” he muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

Ji-Won, flustered and embarrassed, quickly crouched beside him. “I’m so sorry, sir! I’ll pay for the damage,” he stammered, his eyes wide with genuine remorse as he scrambled to help.

Youn-Jae’s eyes narrowed slightly, recognizing Ji-Won immediately. His heart thudded in excitement at the coincidence, but he suppressed it, maintaining an annoyed facade. “Watch where you’re going next time. You broke my phone,” he snapped, his tone sharp, but a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t angry—he was intrigued.

Before Ji-Won could reply, Secretary Min rushed over, his face etched with concern. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice tense.

“It’s nothing. Just a little accident,” Youn-Jae replied curtly, brushing off his clothes and standing tall, arms crossing over his chest. His tone was cold, but his eyes flicked toward Ji-Won, a flicker of amusement playing in them.

Ji-Won, still on his knees, looked up, meeting Youn-Jae’s gaze. His breath caught in his throat as he realized who he had bumped into. “Oh… it’s you,” Ji-Won murmured, pointing a finger in recognition, his face lighting up with a mix of surprise and awe.

“What?” Youn-Jae responded, his voice laced with thinly veiled impatience, though his lips twitched into a half-smile. He liked the attention.

“I—I’ve seen you before. You’re the model I saw on the screen here last time, right?” Ji-Won asked, his tone shy, a flush creeping up his neck as he scratched his head in embarrassment.

Youn-Jae’s smirk deepened, eyes glinting with mischief. “A model, huh? Well, I guess I do look the part,” he replied, his voice softening, slipping into a more playful tone as he leaned a little closer to Ji-Won, sensing an opportunity. There was something about this encounter that intrigued him.

Ji-Won, realizing he was staring too much, quickly looked away, his cheeks turning rosy. “I’m really sorry about the phone. How can I contact you to pay for it?” Ji-Won asked hurriedly, eager to avoid further embarrassment.

Youn-Jae exchanged a brief glance with Secretary Min, nodding for him to take over. With practiced efficiency, Secretary Min pulled a pen and paper from his file case. “I can take your number,” he said calmly, handing the paper to Ji-Won.

Ji-Won scribbled his number down and wrote ‘Won,’” feeling suddenly self-conscious. “And you, sir… may I know your name?” he asked hesitantly, his gaze flicking back to Youn-Jae, still unaware of who he was truly dealing with.

“Kyle,” Youn-Jae answered smoothly, though a flicker of something unspoken passed between him and Secretary Min. The secretary’s lips tightened, his brow raising ever so slightly in suspicion, but he said nothing.

Youn-Jae stepped forward, leaning down ever so slightly, his presence looming closer to Ji-Won. “Won, huh?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, dripping with an unfamiliar warmth that sent a shiver down Ji-Won’s spine. “I’ll text you. We can settle this then,” he added, his words laced with hidden intentions, a smirk tugging at his lips before he turned on his heel, walking away with a sense of finality.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Secretary Min gave Ji-Won a polite bow before following after Youn-Jae, leaving Ji-Won standing in the lobby, heart pounding, unsure of what had just happened—or why the brief encounter left him feeling unsettled and intrigued.

***

Secretary Min’s grip tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he glanced at the rearview mirror. His eyes met Youn-Jae’s reflection, seated in the back with his gaze turned to the window. The silence in the car felt thick, heavy with unsaid words. Three days had passed since Youn-Jae's encounter with Ji-Won, and today, they were meeting again.

"Are you really sure about this, President?" Secretary Min asked, his voice edged with concern. His eyes flickered toward Youn-Jae again, trying to gauge his mood.

Youn-Jae didn’t respond right away. He leaned back in his seat, fingers drumming idly against the armrest as a slow breath escaped his lips. Finally, his mouth curved into a faint smirk. "What’s with the overreaction?" he replied, his tone sharp with irritation, but his eyes betrayed a sense of anticipation, something darker brewing beneath the surface.

Secretary Min hesitated, his gaze flickering between the road and the mirror. "This is Korea," he said quietly, lowering his voice as though the truth carried weight. "Not Germany. Not America. You can’t play your games here without consequences. Your father is close by. If he finds out what you’re doing..." He let the threat hang in the air.

Youn-Jae waved his hand dismissively, rolling his eyes with a lazy arrogance. "Don’t worry about it. I’ve slipped away from worse."

Secretary Min sighed but said nothing further. His warning lingered, heavy in the silence between them. Just as he pulled into the restaurant's parking lot, he cast another glance in the mirror, his brows furrowing. "We’re here, President."

Youn-Jae stepped out of the car, straightening his jacket. His demeanor shifted—an effortless confidence took over as he approached the restaurant. The cozy, inviting vibe of the place was a stark contrast to his predatory aura. As soon as his eyes found Ji-Won sitting by the window, he smirked. There was something in that smirk—calculated, like a hunter eyeing its prey.

Ji-Won sat at the table, fidgeting slightly, his hands wrapped around a glass of water. The soft lighting of the restaurant accentuated his features, casting a warm glow over his tense posture. He looked up when the door chimed, eyes widening slightly as Youn-Jae strolled in, one hand casually in his pocket, the other brushing through his hair as if he had all the time in the world.

Youn-Jae took his time walking over, savoring the moment. His smirk deepened as he saw Ji-Won’s nervous glance, “Perfect,” Youn-Jae thought, relishing the control he was beginning to feel.

"Won," Youn-Jae greeted smoothly, pulling out the chair across from him. He sat down with an easy grace, his eyes never leaving Ji-Won’s face. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Ji-Won’s lips parted slightly, and he quickly shook his head, clearly flustered. "Oh, no, it’s fine. I—I wasn’t waiting long," he said, his voice soft and unsure, eyes flickering nervously between Youn-Jae’s piercing gaze and the table.

Youn-Jae leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed yet dominating, his fingers tracing slow, idle circles on the table’s edge. "Good to know. You looked... tense for a moment there. Nervous?" His voice dropped just enough to make Ji-Won squirm, though the words carried an almost playful lilt.

Ji-Won blinked, clearly taken aback. His eyes darted around as if searching for the right words. "No, not nervous. Just—uh, I was thinking about the café."

Youn-Jae frowned slightly, leaning forward with interest, his elbows resting on the table as his gaze locked onto Ji-Won. “The café...?” His tone was smooth but edged with confusion, as if trying to piece something together. “What café? Didn’t you like it here? We can change the place if you don’t.”

Ji-Won quickly shook his head, feeling a tightening in his chest. His hands gripped the glass of water, knuckles paling under the pressure. "No, not this. It’s the café we’ve been running for eighteen years. The building was sold to Han Group... and we have to shut it down. I don’t know what to do," he admitted, his voice strained.

Youn-Jae’s expression softened slightly, but there was an undercurrent in his tone that Ji-Won couldn’t place. “I see. The café is your home,” he said, almost sympathetically, though his eyes never left Ji-Won’s face. “But things change, Won. Sometimes... you have to let go.”

Ji-Won swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His eyes flickered with uncertainty. “It’s not easy to let go,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud made the situation even more unbearable.

Youn-Jae leaned closer, his voice dropping to a soft whisper, intimate, almost conspiratorial. “Maybe... you just need the right person to help you through it,” he said, his eyes glinting with something more than simple concern. His words carried a hidden weight, a promise wrapped in charm and danger.

Ji-Won’s breath hitched. The closeness, the intensity—it was too much. He straightened in his seat, trying to distance himself from the tension building between them. "I—I don’t even know who to ask for help. Honestly, the day I bumped into you at the building... I was there trying to find someone—anyone—who could help."

A brief pause hung in the air before Youn-Jae leaned back slightly, his smirk returning. “Well... lucky for you, Won, maybe I can help.” His voice was calm, but there was a predatory glint in his eyes now, as if he enjoyed watching Ji-Won squirm.

Ji-Won hesitated, biting his lip as uncertainty crept into his mind. He was about to respond, but before the words could leave his mouth, Youn-Jae leaned back further in his chair, his posture relaxed and confident. “Don’t worry,” he said lightly, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m close to someone higher up at the Han Group. I can pull a few strings.”

Ji-Won’s heart raced. His mind was spinning. “But I haven’t even paid for the damage to your phone yet. And now you’re offering to help me... with something this big?”

Youn-Jae’s eyes never wavered, sharp and focused, as if he were testing the waters. “I’m good at helping,” he replied smoothly, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “Especially when it’s something... important.”

Ji-Won forced a small, awkward laugh, trying to break the tension that was creeping over him. “Yeah, you must have some serious connections. I mean, there’s no way your photo’s up on that giant screen if you don’t have some pull at the company.”

Youn-Jae chuckled softly, scratching the back of his head. “Oh, that photo? Do I really look like a model to you?” His smile widened, lightening the mood for just a moment.

Ji-Won’s lips twitched into a small smile, though the tension still lingered. “Yes. Aren’t you?”

Youn-Jae’s grin grew more playful, but there was a hint of something darker beneath it. “Oh, of course I am,” he teased, a touch of arrogance creeping into his tone.

Ji-Won lowered his gaze, his voice softening. “But Sir... what can I do for you in exchange for your help?”

Youn-Jae’s smile didn’t falter. He raised a hand, waving off the question as if it were trivial. “Don’t worry about it for now. I haven’t done anything yet.” His eyes lingered on Ji-Won for a moment longer before he added with a subtle, knowing grin, “I’ll let you know if something comes to mind.”

Ji-Won exhaled, a mix of relief and unease settling in his chest. “You’re... really nice. Thank you.”

Youn-Jae’s gaze flickered with something unreadable. “Nice, huh?” he murmured more to himself than to Ji-Won. “Alright, let’s stop with the serious talk for now. Let’s order something.”

The story doesn't end here......