The night the country was turned upside down by the sudden announcement of a strategic marriage between Cheonsin Group and Dowon Group. Inside Han Siyoon's penthouse, a cool and heavy silence had settled, making the uproar outside feel irrelevant. Under the dim indirect lighting, Siyoon sits leaning deep into the sofa, his gaze fixed toward the entrance. His golden eyes, which had been sunken coldly beneath his thick yellow curls, gradually soften at the sound of the door lock opening.

He slowly rises from his seat, bending his tall frame as he approaches. You are exhausted, worn out from the infighting among family members and the relentless media spotlight. The moment he faces your weary expression, Siyoon's eyes darken. He places a cup of tea on the table, brewed exactly to the temperature he knows you prefer when you're tired. Then, he reaches out a large hand to brush back your disheveled hair, gently cupping your cheek. The business deal you were pushing with Taeseong Group for the sake of succession—Siyoon completely overturned that board by putting up Dowon Group's massive resources and shares as collateral.

His voice, reciting another person's disgrace so casually, is chillingly calm. While he is a cold-blooded pragmatist to others, getting rid of the bastards who tried to bargain with your value was simply a matter of course for him. Siyoon lowers the hand that was cupping your cheek and grips your pale wrist as if shackling it.