Most Valuable Asset

The glass doors of SYNK Holdings slid open with a hiss that sounded suspiciously like money.

Y/n adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, which felt a little too tight around the neck. Beside him, Ningning was frantically smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, and their group mate, Ren, looked like he was about to pass out.

"I still don't understand how you managed to get an interview with the Yoo Jimin," Ningning whispered, clutching her notepad like a shield. "She eats small businesses for breakfast. We’re just college students doing a final project on corporate leadership."

"I sent an email," Y/n said simply, clutching his own list of questions. "I guess her secretary liked the polite font I used."

"Or she misclicked," Ren muttered.

They were escorted up forty floors in an elevator that moved so smoothly it felt like they were floating. When the doors opened, the air was colder, crisper, and smelled faintly of expensive perfume and ozone.

Kim Minjeong—or Winter, as the badge on her blazer read—greeted them with a sharp nod. She was the CEO's executive assistant and looked terrifyingly efficient.

"Miss Yoo has fifteen minutes," Winter said, checking a watch that probably cost more than Y/n’s entire college tuition. "Don't waste them. Go in."

Y/n took a deep breath, stepped forward, and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors.

The office was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the Seoul skyline, but the room was dominated by a sleek, black desk. Behind it sat Yoo Jimin.

She was typing furiously on her laptop, wearing a sharp black blazer that accentuated her icy demeanor. She didn't look up immediately.

"Sit," she commanded, her voice smooth and cool.

Y/n swallowed hard. "Good afternoon, Miss Yoo. Thank you for—"

Jimin stopped typing. She looked up.

The air in the room seemed to vanish.

Jimin had prepared herself for a group of annoying, snot-nosed students begging for quotes for a thesis paper. She had her rejection speech ready. She had her "I'm busy" glare perfected.

But then she saw Y/n.

The afternoon sun was hitting him just right, illuminating the soft curve of his jawline, the way his dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, and the polite, nervous smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He was, objectively and subjectively, the most beautiful thing to ever walk into her office.

Oh, Jimin thought, her heart skipping a beat for the first time in five fiscal years. Oh, no.

"Miss Yoo?" Y/n asked gently, tilting his head.

Jimin blinked. She realized she had been staring at him with her mouth slightly open for a solid ten seconds. She quickly snapped it shut and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

"Yes," she said, though her voice came out a little higher than usual. "The interview. Proceed."

They sat down. Y/n took the lead, clicking his pen. He looked serious, focused. It made him look even better.

"Regarding SYNK Holdings' recent acquisition of the Tech-AI startup," Y/n began, reading from his notes, "our group was wondering what your primary strategy was for integrating their culture with your own. Was it a focus on efficiency or asset retention?"

Jimin stared at him. She wasn't listening to the words. She was looking at the way his hand gripped the pen. She wondered if his hands were warm. She wondered if he liked Italian food. She wondered what he would look like sitting in the passenger seat of her Porsche.

"Miss Yoo?" Y/n prompted again.

Jimin jolted. "Right. Strategy." She panicked. Her brain, usually a supercomputer of business tactics, was currently displaying a screensaver of Y/n’s face. "Well... you see... efficiency is like... a cloud."

Ningning and Ren exchanged a confused look. Y/n nodded slowly, pen poised over the paper. "A... cloud?"

"Yes," Jimin said, committing to the nonsense. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, staring directly into Y/n’s eyes. "It floats. But sometimes it rains. And when it rains, the assets get wet. So, you have to... hold the umbrella. Personally."

The room went silent.

Winter, who was standing by the door holding a tablet, let out a tiny, choked cough.

"I see," Y/n said politely, writing down 'Assets = Wet' on his notepad. "That’s a very... metaphorical approach. Very poetic."

"I am a very poetic CEO," Jimin lied. She had fired a man last week for using the wrong font size.

"Okay," Y/n continued, trying to salvage the grade. "Moving on. How do you handle high-pressure competition in the global market?"

"I look at them," Jimin said, her voice dropping an octave, her gaze intense as she locked eyes with Y/n. "And if I see something I want... I just take it. I don't let anyone else have it. I make sure it stays mine."

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted from 'corporate interview' to 'predatory wildlife documentary.'

Ren looked terrified. Ningning looked like she was trying not to laugh. Y/n, bless his heart, just thought she was very passionate about market shares.

"Aggressive acquisition," Y/n noted, scribbling furiously. "Got it."

The fifteen minutes flew by. Mostly because Y/n would ask a question, and Jimin would spend thirty seconds admiring his eyelashes before giving an answer that sounded like it came from a fortune cookie written by a hallucinogenic robot.

Finally, Y/n closed his notebook.

"Thank you so much for your time, Miss Yoo. This will be great for our project." He stood up, and his friends followed suit.

Jimin felt a sudden spike of panic. He’s leaving.

If he leaves, he goes back to college. If he goes back to college, other people will see him. Girls will talk to him. Guys will talk to him. He might disappear into the sea of people and she’d just be the CEO he interviewed once.

"Wait," Y/n said, pausing. "Actually, I had one personal question. Unrelated to the project."

Jimin straightened up. "Yes? Ask anything." Ask for my number. Ask for my hand in marriage.

"My friends and I are graduating next semester," Y/n said, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. "We were wondering... what is the criteria for getting an internship here? I know it's incredibly competitive, but—"

"You're hired," Jimin blurted out.

Y/n blinked. "Pardon?"

"Hired," Jimin repeated, standing up. She slammed her hand on the desk for emphasis. "All of you. Next semester? No, start Monday. Or tomorrow. Whatever works with your schedule."

"But..." Y/n looked bewildered. "Don't we need to submit a portfolio? Or go through HR?"

"I am the CEO," Jimin said, walking around the desk. She stopped right in front of Y/n. She was wearing heels, which put her eyes level with his. She could smell his cologne—something cheap and soapy, but on him, it smelled like heaven. "My criteria is very strict. And you passed."

"We passed?" Ren squeaked. "I didn't even say anything."

"You have excellent... silence skills," Jimin dismissed him without looking away from Y/n.

She reached out and plucked the cheap ballpoint pen from Y/n’s hand. "You'll need better supplies if you're working for me. You’ll be in the Executive Department."

"All of us?" Y/n asked, eyes wide.

"No," Jimin said smoothly. "Just you. Your friends can go to... I don't know, Accounting? The basement?" She waved a hand vaguely. "Winter will sort them out."

Winter sighed audibly from the doorway. "I will prepare the contracts."

Y/n looked stunned. A flush crept up his neck, and Jimin felt a dangerous urge to bite him.

"Thank you, Miss Yoo," Y/n said, bowing slightly. "I won't let you down. I'm a hard worker."

Jimin smiled. It wasn't her usual shark-like business smile. It was a terrifyingly possessive, satisfied smirk.

"I know," she purred. "I look forward to overseeing your... development. Closely."

As Y/n and his shocked friends were ushered out by a weary-looking Winter, Jimin walked to the glass window to watch them leave the building.

She pulled her phone out and dialed Winter.

"Change the dress code policy," Jimin said into the phone, watching Y/n walk out onto the sidewalk far below.

"To what, Ma'am?" Winter asked tiredly.

"He needs to wear suits," Jimin said darkly. "Fitted ones. And cancel my meetings for next Monday morning. I need to personally orient the new intern."

"You have a board meeting with Samsung."

"Cancel it," Jimin said, pressing her hand against the glass as she watched Y/n disappear into the crowd. "I have a more important acquisition to manage."

The ride back to campus was a blur of adrenaline and confusion. It wasn't until the trio was safely seated at their usual wobbly table in the university cafeteria—surrounded by the smell of stale coffee and cheap fried chicken—that the reality of what just happened finally hit them.

Ren slammed his forehead onto the table with a groan. "I thought I was going to shit myself. I literally thought I was going to shit my pants in a distinctively non-corporate way."

Ningning, however, was vibrating with a different kind of energy. She ripped open a bag of chips and pointed a manicured finger at Y/n.

"Okay, what the fuck was that?"

Y/n blinked, pulling his heavy textbooks out of his bag. "What was what? The interview? It went well."

"Went well?" Ningning scoffed, a chip crumb flying out of her mouth. "Y/n, are you actually blind, or do you just enjoy gaslighting us? That woman didn't interview you. She was five seconds away from climbing over that mahogany desk and mounting you right there in front of the skyline."

"Jesus, Ning," Y/n muttered, feeling his face heat up. "Keep your voice down. She was just being... encouraging."

Ren lifted his head, looking traumatized. "Encouraging? Bro, she asked me zero questions. She looked at me like I was a stain on the carpet. But you? She stared at your mouth for like, forty solid seconds while you were talking about market integration."

"She was listening intently!" Y/n defended, though his voice lacked conviction. "She’s a CEO. They make intense eye contact. It’s an intimidation tactic."

"Intimidation?" Ningning cackled. "Bitch, she looked like a starving wolf looking at a particularly juicy lamb chop. When you asked about the internship, she didn't even check our grades! She just said 'hired' because she didn't want you to walk out that door and vanish."

Y/n shook his head, opening a soda can. "You guys are reading too much into it. She’s probably just desperate for interns. Maybe they’re understaffed."

"Understaffed?" Ningning looked at him like he was the stupidest person on Earth. "It’s SYNK Holdings. They have a waitlist of Harvard graduates begging to scrub their toilets."

She whipped out her phone and started typing furiously. "You clearly don't know who Yoo Jimin actually is. You think she's some nice, 'poetic' lady because she fed you that bullshit about clouds and umbrellas?"

"It was a metaphor," Y/n mumbled, taking a sip of soda.

"It was bullshit she made up because her brain short-circuited looking at your face," Ren corrected.

Ningning shoved her phone into Y/n’s face. "Read this. Read her Wiki. Read the Forbes article."

Y/n squinted at the screen.

Yoo Jimin (Karina)
CEO, SYNK Holdings
Known as: "The Serpent of Seoul", "The Guillotine"

Summary: Taking over the conglomerate at age 24, Yoo Jimin is known for her ruthless, cold-blooded business tactics. In 2023, she hostile-takeovered a rival tech firm in three days, resulting in the mass firing of the entire executive board. She is notoriously private, intolerant of incompetence, and was once rumored to have fired a VP because he chewed gum during a briefing.

Y/n scrolled down.

Quote from Business Insider: "Working for Yoo Jimin is like walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers. She demands absolute perfection. She does not smile. She does not forgive."

Y/n swallowed hard. He looked at the photo in the article. It was a candid shot of Jimin leaving a courthouse. She looked terrifying—sunglasses on, jaw set, radiating an aura that said 'I will buy your family and evict them for sport.'

"Okay," Y/n admitted, pushing the phone away. "She looks a little... intense here."

"A little?" Ningning grabbed the phone back. "She’s a fucking tyrant, Y/n! 'The Guillotine'? And you're telling me that this woman, who fires people for chewing gum, just giggled at you and gave you a job because you have nice eyes?"

"She didn't giggle," Y/n argued weakly.

"She smirked!" Ren cried out. "It was a predatory smirk! It was the smile of a woman who just secured the bag, and the bag is you."

Y/n ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Look, maybe the articles are exaggerated. She seemed... lonely? Maybe she just appreciated that we treated her like a normal person."

"You treated her like a normal person," Ningning corrected. "I was too busy trying not to piss myself, and Ren went mute. You offered her water and treated her like she wasn't God. And that is exactly why you're fucked."

"I'm not fucked," Y/n insisted. "I got a great internship. With triple the pay we expected. In the Executive Office."

"Yeah," Ningning said darkly, popping another chip. "The Executive Office. Also known as 'Yoo Jimin’s Personal Harem'. You’re going to be her personal assistant, Y/n. Do you know what that means?"

"It means I take notes and get coffee."

"It means you're going to be locked in a room with a possessive billionaire who probably wants to wear your skin as a suit," Ningning said. "Or, more likely, she wants to buy you a penthouse and keep you there like a trophy husband."

Ren nodded solemnly. "I give it a week before she buys the university just to fire the professors giving you homework so you can spend more time with her."

"You guys are insane," Y/n laughed, standing up to throw away his trash. "She's just a professional woman who saw potential in a hardworking student. That's it. No crush, no obsession. Just business."

He walked toward the trash cans, missing the look Ningning and Ren exchanged.

"He's dead meat," Ren whispered.

"Oh, absolutely," Ningning agreed, scrolling through more photos of Jimin looking lethal in designer suits. "But hey, if he marries her, maybe he can pay off my student loans."

Just then, Y/n’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.

Unknown Number:
Make sure you eat a proper dinner. Instant ramen is bad for your health. I’ll see you Monday. - YJ

Y/n stared at the screen. How the hell did she get his personal cell number? It wasn't on his resume.

"Who is it?" Ningning called out.

Y/n quickly shoved the phone back into his pocket, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Nothing!" Y/n yelled back, his voice cracking slightly. "Just... spam!"

He sat back down, trying to look casual, but the image of the Ice Queen CEO hunting down his private number—and caring about his dinner—was starting to make Ningning's theory sound a lot less crazy and a lot more terrifying.

Monday morning arrived with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Y/n stood outside the imposing glass facade of SYNK Holdings, adjusting his tie for the fiftieth time. He had spent most of his weekend savings on a new suit—it wasn't designer, but it was a sharp navy blue that fit him well enough.

Beside him, Ren looked like he was about to vomit on his loafers. Ningning was aggressively chewing gum to calm her nerves, ignoring the "No Gum" policy she had read about in the terrifying articles.

"Remember," Ningning whispered, spitting the gum into a tissue as they approached the revolving doors. "Don't look the staff in the eye. They smell fear. And if you see Her, play dead."

"We work for her, Ning. We can't play dead," Y/n hissed back.

They pushed through the doors into the lobby. It was a cathedral of capitalism—marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and an army of employees moving with military precision. The air was thick with stress and caffeine.

Usually, interns were herded into a cramped conference room on the 4th floor by a grumpy HR rep, given a handbook, and told not to fuck up.

But today, the atmosphere was different.

As Y/n, Ningning, and Ren huddled near the reception desk, a hush fell over the lobby. The rhythmic clicking of high heels echoed off the marble, sharp and authoritative.

Employees parted like the Red Sea. Heads bowed. Conversations died instantly.

Walking toward them was Yoo Jimin.

She looked devastating. She was wearing a tailored white suit that probably cost more than Y/n's entire bloodline, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders in perfect waves. Behind her trailed Winter, looking exhausted but impeccable, holding a tablet like a weapon.

The strangest part wasn't her appearance, though. It was her expression.

Usually, the staff saw the "CEO Face"—a look of cold indifference bordering on disdain. Today, however, Jimin’s eyes were bright, almost eager. There was a faint flush on her cheeks.

The receptionist nearly fell out of her chair. The security guard adjusted his belt nervously. Why is the CEO in the lobby? Why is she smiling? Is someone getting fired? Are we all getting fired?

Jimin bee-lined straight for the trio of college students.

"Good morning," she said, her voice carrying through the silent lobby.

Ren let out a high-pitched squeak. Ningning froze.

Y/n, feeling the weight of a hundred stares on his back, bowed politely. "Good morning, Miss Yoo. We're ready for orientation."

Jimin stopped in front of him, ignoring everyone else in the building. Her eyes swept over him, starting from his polished shoes, up the navy suit, lingering on his tie, and finally landing on his face.

"You changed your hair," she noted softly.

Y/n blinked, self-consciously touching his slightly trimmed bangs. "Uh, yes. Just a trim. For the first day."

"It looks good," Jimin said, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. "Very professional. The blue suits you."

A collective gasp rippled through the nearby employees. Did the Ice Queen just compliment an intern?

Winter stepped forward, clearing her throat loudly. "Ma'am. The schedule."

"Right," Jimin said, snapping out of her Y/n-induced trance. She turned to Ren and Ningning, her smile instantly dropping about ten degrees to a standard 'polite corporate' expression.

"You two," she said, gesturing vaguely at them. "You'll be with Winter. She has your assignments prepared."

"Thank you, Ma'am!" Ren and Ningning chorused, bowing so low they nearly headbutted the floor.

"Winter," Jimin commanded, not looking back at her assistant. "Take them to the 12th floor. Marketing and Data Entry. Make sure they have... whatever interns need. Snacks. Badges. Go."

Winter nodded sharply. "Come with me," she said to Ren and Ningning. She gave Y/n a look that screamed 'God save your soul' before marching the two terrified friends toward the elevators.

Y/n made a move to follow them. "Okay, I'll just go with—"

"Not you," Jimin said.

Her hand shot out, wrapping around Y/n’s wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her fingers cool against his skin.

Y/n froze. "Miss Yoo?"

"You're not in Data Entry," Jimin said, stepping closer. The lobby was dead silent now. Everyone was watching. She didn't care. "You're with me. Executive Office."

"Right, the... personal assistant role," Y/n stammered, conscious of her hand still holding his wrist. "Shouldn't I go through HR first? For the ID badge and the paperwork?"

"I have your badge," Jimin said. She reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out a sleek, black ID card with a gold lanyard. It wasn't the standard white intern badge. It was an Executive Clearance badge.

She stepped into his personal space, raising her hands to loop the lanyard around his neck. Y/n held his breath, smelling her perfume—something expensive, floral, and dangerous. Her knuckles brushed his chest as she adjusted the card.

"There," she murmured, smoothing the lapel of his jacket unnecessarily. "Much better."

She didn't step back. She was close enough that he could count her eyelashes.

"Uh, Miss Yoo?" Y/n whispered, his face burning. "People are watching."

"Let them watch," Jimin said, her voice dropping to a low purr that sent a shiver down his spine. "They need to know who you belong to."

"What?"

"Who you report to," she corrected smoothly, finally stepping back but keeping a proprietary hand on his lower back. "Come. We have a lot of work to do."

She guided him toward the private executive elevator—the one no one else was allowed to touch. As the gold doors slid shut, cutting them off from the gawking employees, the lobby exploded into whispers.

Inside the elevator, the silence was heavy.

"So," Y/n said, trying to break the tension as the numbers climbed rapidly toward the 50th floor. "What exactly will I be doing today? Filing? coffee runs?"

Jimin leaned back against the mirrored wall, crossing her arms. She looked him up and down again, like a dragon inspecting its favorite piece of gold.

"No coffee runs," she said. "I have machines for that. And Winter does the filing."

"Then... what is my job?"

The elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to reveal her penthouse office.

Jimin walked out, beckoning him to follow.

"Your job," she said, walking over to her massive desk and sitting on the edge of it, crossing her legs, "is to be here. By my side. I have a lot of... stress. I need a calming presence. Someone to keep me grounded."

She patted the empty chair right next to her desk. Not a guest chair. A second, smaller desk that had been moved directly beside hers. It was so close their elbows would touch.

"Sit," she ordered.

Y/n sat. He looked at the desk. There was a brand new laptop, a pile of organized notebooks, and—bizarrely—a plate of expensive macaroons and a glass of iced americano.

"Eat," Jimin said, watching him intently. "You looked pale in the lobby."

"I... thank you," Y/n said, taking a macaroon. He took a bite. It was delicious.

"Good?" she asked.

"Very good."

Jimin smiled, that terrifyingly satisfied smile again. She spun her chair around so she was facing him, completely ignoring the mountain of paperwork waiting for her.

"Excellent," she said, propping her chin on her hand. "Now, tell me everything about your weekend. Don't leave out any details. Who did you see? Where did you go? Did anyone try to talk to you?"

Y/n chewed slowly, realizing with a dawning sense of horror that Ningning was right.

This wasn't an internship.

He was a pet.

"I... studied?" Y/n ventured.

"Good," Jimin nodded approvingly. "Studying is safe. No girls?"

"No girls."

"Good boy," she murmured, almost to herself.

She reached over and wiped a tiny crumb from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. The touch was electric. Y/n froze, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Now," Jimin said, turning to her computer but keeping one hand resting on Y/n’s arm, anchoring him there. "Let's review the quarterly projections. And if you try to leave this room for anything other than the bathroom, I will have the building locked down. Understood?"

"Understood," Y/n squeaked.

"Perfect," Jimin beamed. "I think we're going to get along famously, Y/n."

The hours ticked by in the Executive Office, not that Y/n could tell. Time seemed to warp inside the bubble of the 50th floor.

For the first two hours, Y/n attempted to be a diligent intern. He opened the spreadsheets Winter had emailed him (titled "Busy Work 1" and "Busy Work 2"). He organized his pens. He sat with his back straight.

Jimin, meanwhile, was doing absolutely no work.

She was ostensibly reviewing a contract, but she hadn’t scrolled down on the PDF in forty-five minutes. Instead, she was engaging in her new favorite hobby: watching Y/n breathe.

"Y/n," she said suddenly. The silence in the room had been heavy, but comfortable.

Y/n jumped, his fingers freezing over the keyboard. "Yes, Miss Yoo? Do you need the Q3 reports?"

"No," Jimin said, spinning her chair slightly to face him. She tapped her manicured fingernail against the mahogany desk. "Your chair."

"My... chair?"

"It’s too far away," she stated flatly.

Y/n looked down. There was maybe six inches of space between his chair and the edge of her desk. "I'm pretty close, Ma'am. If I get any closer, I'll be inside your desk."

"Exactly," Jimin hummed. She stood up, walked around to his side, and grabbed the back of his chair. With surprising strength, she yanked it—with him still in it—until his armrest was practically wedged against her hip.

She sat back down, satisfied. "Better. Now I can see your screen."

"You... want to check my data entry?"

"Sure," she lied. "Show me."

Y/n leaned forward to point at a column on his laptop. As he did, his shoulder brushed against hers. He pulled back instinctively to apologize, but Jimin just leaned into the touch, her shoulder pressing firmly against his arm. She was like a cat seeking heat.

"Explain this row," she commanded softly, though her eyes weren't on the screen. They were tracing the line of his neck.

"Um, these are the... logistics expenses," Y/n stammered, his heart rate picking up. The scent of her perfume—vanilla and something sharp like cold steel—was overwhelming this close. "We, uh... we spent 15% more on shipping."

"Fascinating," she whispered, leaning closer until her cheek was inches from his ear. "Keep talking. I like your voice. It’s soothing."

Y/n swallowed hard. "Miss Yoo, I really think—"

Suddenly, the office door burst open.

"CEO Yoo, we have a crisis in the—"

A middle-aged man in a grey suit, clearly a high-ranking director, froze in the doorway. He stared at the scene: The ruthless "Guillotine" of Seoul, practically draped over a terrified intern, staring at a spreadsheet of shipping costs like it was the Mona Lisa.

Jimin’s entire demeanor shifted in a nanosecond. The softness in her eyes vanished, replaced by glacial irritation. She didn't move away from Y/n, but she turned her head to glare at the intruder.

"Director Han," she said, her voice dropping to sub-zero temperatures. "Did you lose the ability to knock? Or do you have a death wish?"

The man turned pale. "I—I apologize, Ma'am. It's just the merger with Kakao, the stocks dropped by 0.2% and—"

"Get out," Jimin snapped. "Handle it. If you can't fix a 0.2% drop without holding my hand, why am I paying you?"

"But—"

"I am in the middle of a critical training session," she hissed, placing a protective hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Leave. Now."

The Director scrambled out, shutting the door behind him.

The silence returned. Jimin let out a long, annoyed sigh, her shoulders slumping. She turned back to Y/n, her face instantly softening into a pout that looked ridiculous on a billionaire CEO.

"They are so annoying," she whined, resting her chin on Y/n's shoulder. "Always 'stocks this' and 'bankruptcy that'. Boring."

Y/n blinked, his brain short-circuiting at the physical contact. Is the CEO of a multi-billion dollar conglomerate whining to me?

"Uh... isn't that your job?" Y/n asked carefully.

"Technically," she muttered, closing her eyes. "But today my job is you."

She opened one eye, looking up at him through her lashes. "Did I scare you? When I yelled at him?"

"A little," Y/n admitted. "You were... intense."

Jimin lifted her head, looking suddenly worried. "Too intense? You don't like it?"

"No!" Y/n said quickly, not wanting to upset her. "No, it was... impressive. authoritative. You really commanded the room."

Jimin’s face lit up. A flush of pink dusted her cheeks. She looked down, playing with the cuff of her blazer shyly. "You think I'm authoritative? You like that?"

"I... sure?"

"Good," she breathed, looking ridiculously pleased with herself. "I can be very authoritative. Or I can be nice. Whatever you prefer."

"Nice is good," Y/n said weakly.

"Then I will be nice," she declared. She checked her watch. "It's 12:00 PM. Lunch."

"I brought a sandwich," Y/n said, reaching for his bag.

Jimin grabbed his hand. " absolutely not. You are not eating soggy bread in my presence. It’s an insult to me."

She pressed a button on her intercom. "Winter. Lunch. The Japanese set from the place I like. Two orders. Now."

Twenty minutes later, Y/n was staring at a bento box that probably cost more than his rent. There was wagyu beef, uni, sashimi that looked like jewels, and gold flakes on the rice.

"Miss Yoo, I can't eat this," Y/n said, eyes wide. "This is too much."

"Call me Jimin," she said, picking up a piece of tuna with her chopsticks. "At least when we're alone."

"I can't do that."

"Do it," she ordered, but her voice was playful. "Or I'll fire Director Han."

"Okay... Jimin," Y/n tested the name. It felt forbidden.

Jimin shivered visibly. She covered her mouth with her hand, looking away. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. "Say it again."

"Jimin?"

She let out a shaky breath, her ears turning bright red. "Okay, that's... that's potent. We need to space that out. Eat your beef."

They ate in relative silence, but the atmosphere had shifted. It was warmer. Fluffier.

Jimin wasn't eating much. She was too busy watching Y/n eat. Every time he took a bite and looked happy, she looked like she had just won the lottery.

"Is it good?" she asked for the tenth time.

"It's amazing," Y/n smiled, genuinely relaxing. The food was incredible, and despite her terrifying reputation, she was currently looking at him with big, puppy-dog eyes. "Here, you should try the eel. You haven't touched yours."

Without thinking, Y/n picked up a piece of eel with his chopsticks and held it out toward her.

It was a bold move. A dangerously casual move.

Jimin froze. She stared at the chopsticks, then at Y/n’s face.

"Oh, sorry," Y/n panicked, realizing what he was doing. "I shouldn't—"

Before he could pull back, Jimin leaned forward and took the bite. Her lips brushed the tips of his chopsticks. She chewed slowly, her eyes locked on his, dark and dilated.

She swallowed. "Delicious," she whispered.

Y/n felt his face burning. He quickly looked down at his rice.

"You have rice on your face," Jimin said softly.

"Where?" Y/n went to wipe his cheek.

"No, here."

Jimin reached out. But instead of using her thumb, she leaned across the small space between them. She cupped his jaw with one hand to hold him steady, and planted a soft, feather-light kiss on the corner of his mouth.

She pulled back, licking her lips. "Got it."

Y/n stopped breathing. His brain flatlined.

Jimin sat back in her chair, looking incredibly smug, but her hands were trembling slightly. She was bold, yes, but she was also terrified he’d push her away.

"Was that... appropriate for the workplace?" Y/n squeaked, his voice an octave higher.

"I write the HR policy," Jimin said, her voice shaking just a little. "I say it's allowed."

She turned her chair toward the massive window, the sunlight bathing her in a golden glow. She looked tired suddenly, the adrenaline of the morning fading.

"Y/n?"

"Yes... Jimin?"

"Come here."

She patted the armrest of her oversized leather chair.

Y/n hesitated, then stood up and walked over. "Yes?"

"I'm tired," she murmured. "Running a company is exhausting. Everyone wants something from me. They want money, they want decisions, they want my power."

She looked up at him, her eyes vulnerable and wet. The 'Iron Lady' mask was completely gone.

"You're the only one who offered me water because you thought I was thirsty," she said quietly. "Not because you wanted a promotion."

She reached out and wrapped her arms around Y/n’s waist, burying her face in his stomach. It was a position of complete submission, hugging him while he stood and she sat.

"Just... stay here for a minute," she mumbled into his shirt. "Let me recharge."

Y/n stood there, stunned, feeling the warmth of the most powerful woman in the city clinging to him like a lonely child. Slowly, tentatively, he raised his hand and rested it on top of her head. Her hair was incredibly soft.

Jimin let out a long, contented sigh, her grip on him tightening.

"You're not allowed to quit," she mumbled sleepily against his abs. "I'll double your salary. I'll buy you a car. Just don't leave me alone in this big office."

Y/n gently stroked her hair. "I'm not quitting, Jimin. I need the internship credit."

"Fuck the credit," she sleepy-cursed, snuggling deeper. "I'll give you the whole damn company. Just keep petting my hair."

Y/n smiled, a genuine, soft smile. "Okay. Deal."

And as the afternoon sun warmed the office, the terrifying CEO Yoo Jimin fell asleep holding onto her intern, drooling slightly on his cheap suit, looking not like a tyrant, but like a girl who finally found her safe place.

The next morning, the Executive Office was buzzing with a different kind of tension.

It was Tuesday, which meant the Weekly Strategy Meeting. This was famously the most dreaded hour of the week for the department heads of SYNK Holdings. Legend had it that the Chief Financial Officer once cried after Jimin silently stared at his pie chart for two minutes without blinking.

The boardroom was a long, cavernous space with a table that looked like it could land a small aircraft. Twelve high-ranking executives sat around it, sweating in their expensive suits, clutching their tablets like life rafts.

Winter stood by the door, iPad in hand, looking bored.

Then, the doors opened.

Jimin walked in. She was wearing a slate-grey power suit that screamed authority, her hair pulled back into a severe ponytail.

But trailing behind her, clutching a notepad and looking like a lost puppy in a navy blazer, was Y/n.

"Good morning," Jimin said coolly, taking her seat at the head of the table.

"Good morning, CEO Yoo!" the executives chanted in unison, bowing their heads.

Jimin gestured to the empty chair directly to her right—the seat usually reserved for the Vice President (who was currently absent due to 'stress-induced ulcers').

"Sit here," she told Y/n.

A ripple of confusion went through the room. That was the power seat.

"Uh, Miss Yoo," the Marketing Director, a nervous woman named Ms. Choi, piped up. "That seat is for Vice President Kang. The intern usually sits in the back corner."

Jimin turned her head slowly to look at Ms. Choi. "Does Vice President Kang look like he is here?"

"N-no, Ma'am."

"Then the seat is empty," Jimin said simply. She turned to Y/n, her expression softening instantly. "Sit. The view of the screen is better here. And the chair has lumbar support."

Y/n sat down gingerly, feeling twelve pairs of eyes burning holes into his skull. "Thank you, Miss Yoo."

"Jimin," she whispered, low enough that only he and maybe the guy to his left could hear.

Y/n coughed to cover the sound. "Let's begin."

The meeting started.

Usually, these meetings were a bloodbath. Jimin would rip apart proposals, critique font choices, and generally make everyone question their career paths.

Today, however, things were... weird.

"So," the Head of Product Development began, shaking slightly as he pulled up a slide. "As you can see, the new Smart Home integration is facing a delay of two weeks due to a supply chain issue in—"

He stopped, flinching, waiting for the inevitable verbal lashing.

Jimin was staring at her own hand. More specifically, she was staring at the pen she was holding. Then she looked at Y/n’s hand, resting on the table.

She subtly slid her hand across the polished wood until her pinky finger brushed against Y/n’s.

Y/n flinched slightly but didn't pull away.

"Miss Yoo?" the Product Head asked, terrified. "About the delay?"

Jimin looked up, blinking. "Delay? Oh. Two weeks?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am. I know it's unacceptable, and I take full responsibility—"

"It's fine," Jimin said breezily. "Good things take time. Patience is a virtue."

The Product Head’s jaw dropped. The CFO choked on his water. Winter rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.

"Patience... is a virtue?" the Product Head repeated, stunned. "Last month you told me 'patience is for people who can't afford express shipping'."

"I've had a change of perspective," Jimin said, glancing sideways at Y/n with a small, secret smile. "Some things are worth waiting for."

She casually nudged Y/n’s foot with her own under the table. Y/n looked at her, wide-eyed. She winked.

She actually winked.

The meeting continued, descending further into surrealism.

During a presentation on social media metrics, Y/n started taking notes furiously. Jimin leaned over, completely invading his personal space.

"Your handwriting is cute," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear.

The presenter, a young man from Marketing, faltered. "And... uh... engagement is up 10%?"

"Mhm," Jimin hummed, not looking at the screen. She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Y/n’s ear. "You missed a spot in your notes. You didn't write down that I think you look very handsome in this lighting."

"Miss Yoo, please," Y/n hissed, his face turning tomato red. "They can hear you."

"Let them hear," she murmured, picking up Y/n’s water bottle, unscrewing the cap, and taking a sip before placing it back in front of him. "Indirect kiss."

The Marketing guy stopped talking. "Am I... interrupting?"

Jimin looked up, annoyed. "Yes. Continue. But speak softer. You're disturbing my intern's concentration."

The Marketing guy whispered the rest of his presentation.

Later, the topic of the annual company retreat came up.

"We were thinking of a ski resort this year," the HR Director suggested. "Or maybe a tropical location?"

"No," Jimin said immediately.

"No?"

"Skiing is dangerous," Jimin said, looking at Y/n with sudden concern. "What if someone falls and breaks a leg? Or gets cold?"

"We have insurance, Ma'am."

"I don't care about insurance," Jimin snapped. "I care about... asset safety." She reached under the table and squeezed Y/n’s knee reassuringly. Y/n jumped, nearly knocking over his notepad.

"We will go somewhere safe," Jimin decided. "Somewhere with heated floors. And a spa. And really soft beds."

She turned to Y/n. "Do you like spas?"

"I've never been to one," Y/n admitted.

"Tragic," Jimin said, shaking her head. "We’re going to a spa. Write that down. Mandatory Spa Retreat."

"Yes, Ma'am," Y/n wrote 'Spa Retreat' in his notebook.

"And put a star next to it," she added. "Because you're sharing a suite with the CEO for... security purposes."

The HR Director looked like she was having a stroke. "Ma'am, usually the executives have private rooms and the interns share bunks."

"Policy change," Jimin declared, grabbing Y/n’s hand openly on top of the table now, intertwining their fingers. "Effective immediately. The Executive Assistant Intern requires 24-hour supervision. He is... high risk."

"High risk for what?" Y/n whispered, looking at their joined hands.

"Theft," Jimin said deadpan to the room. "Someone might try to steal him."

She looked around the table, her eyes narrowing into slits as she glared at the female Director of Communications, who had smiled at Y/n earlier.

"Let me make this clear," Jimin announced, her voice turning steely. "This intern is under the direct jurisdiction of the CEO's office. If any other department tries to poach him, assign him work, or even look at him for too long... budget cuts will be swift and merciless."

She squeezed Y/n’s hand tight. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal clear, Ma'am," the table chorused, terrifyingly aware that she wasn't joking.

"Good." Jimin stood up, pulling Y/n up with her. "Meeting adjourned. Y/n and I have a very important... strategy session. In my office. With the blinds closed."

"Blinds closed?" Y/n squeaked.

"For the projector," Jimin lied smoothly, though the wicked gleam in her eye suggested otherwise. "Come along, Asset."

As she dragged him out of the room, leaving a room full of bewildered executives behind, the CFO leaned over to Winter.

"Is she... okay?" he whispered.

Winter sighed, closing her iPad. "She's in love. And she has the emotional regulation of a toddler with a black card. God help us all."

Inside the elevator, the moment the doors closed, Jimin dropped the professional facade entirely. She practically melted, leaning her forehead against Y/n’s shoulder.

"That was exhausting," she groaned. "Did I do good? Was I nice?"

Y/n laughed nervously, his heart still racing from the hand-holding. "You were... surprisingly nice. But you really didn't have to threaten them about stealing me."

Jimin looked up, her eyes dark and serious. "I meant it."

She stepped closer, boxing him against the elevator wall. She reached up and fixed his tie, her fingers lingering on his chest.

"You're mine, Y/n," she whispered, a possessive edge creeping into her voice. "I found you. I hired you. I'm keeping you."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, hard.

"Now let's go to my office," she grinned, "I ordered us boba. And I want to watch you drink it."

Y/n sighed, resigned to his fate as the pampered captive of the scariest woman in Seoul. "Okay, Jimin. Let's go."

"That's my good boy," she purred.

Weeks turned into a month, and the dynamic on the 50th floor of SYNK Holdings had shifted from "unconventional" to "domestic sitcom."

To the outside world, Yoo Jimin was still the terrifying "Serpent of Seoul," a woman who could tank a competitor's stock price with a single raised eyebrow. But inside the glass walls of the Executive Office, she had devolved into a clingy, affectionate koala who seemed physically allergic to being more than three feet away from Y/n.

It started small. Moving his desk closer. Then demanding he sit in on every meeting.

Then, the touching started. A hand on his arm while she read. Resting her chin on his shoulder while he typed.

But now? Now, she had fully embraced her inner brat.

It was 5:00 PM on a Wednesday. The sun was setting, casting long orange shadows across the office. Y/n was packing up his bag, ready to head back to the dorms—or so he thought.

"Y/n," a voice whined from the massive leather chair.

Y/n sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. He turned around. "Yes, Jimin?"

Jimin was slumped in her chair, arms crossed, pouting. Not a CEO pout. A toddler-who-didn't-get-ice-cream pout.

"I can't move," she announced dramatically.

"You can't move?" Y/n asked, walking over to her. "Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?"

"No," she grumbled, extending her legs and wiggling her toes in her Louboutins. "My legs gave up. They resigned. They said the walk to the elevator is too far and the carpet isn't soft enough."

Y/n chuckled, leaning against her desk. "So, what? You're going to sleep here?"

Jimin looked up at him with big, glistening doe eyes. She held her arms out, making grabby hands.

"Carry me."

"Jimin," Y/n laughed. "We are in a place of business. I can't just—"

"Carry. Me." She stomped her heel on the floor once. "I'm the boss. It's a direct order. Operation: Taxi Service."

Y/n shook his head, defeated by her cuteness. "Fine. Backpack or Bridal?"

"Backpack," she decided immediately. "I want to be tall."

Y/n turned around and crouched down. "Hop on, your Highness."

With a happy squeal that definitely didn't belong to a corporate tycoon, Jimin launched herself onto his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and her legs around his waist. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply.

"Mush," she commanded into his ear.

"I am not a horse," Y/n muttered, but he adjusted his grip on her thighs and stood up. She was surprisingly light, or maybe he was just getting stronger from carrying the weight of her empire (and her body) all month.

He walked out of the office, Jimin clinging to him like a frantic sloth.

Winter was at her desk outside, typing furiously. She didn't even look up as Y/n walked past with the CEO of the company piggybacking on him.

"Have a good evening, Ma'am. Good evening, Y/n," Winter said monotonously.

"Bye Winter!" Jimin chirped happily, resting her chin on top of Y/n’s head. "We are going to get corn dogs!"

"Use the freight elevator if you want to avoid the board members," Winter advised, finally looking up with a faint, fond smile. "Director Kim is in the main lobby and he hates happiness."

"Good call. You're getting a raise," Jimin declared.

Y/n navigated the hallways. Jimin was humming a pop song, occasionally pressing kisses to his temple or biting his earlobe gently just to make him shiver.

"Jimin, stop biting me," Y/n complained, though he was smiling. "I'm going to drop you."

"You won't," she whispered smugly. "You love me. And if you drop me, I'll sue you for damages. My butt is insured for millions."

"Is it really?"

"No. But I can make it happen by tomorrow morning."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open on the ground floor. Y/n stepped out, praying the lobby was empty.

It wasn't.

Standing near the reception desk, struggling with a stack of archive boxes, were Ren and Ningning. They looked exhausted, their intern badges crooked, hair messy.

They froze as they saw Y/n exit the elevator.

But they didn't freeze because they saw their friend. They froze because their friend was wearing a custom navy suit, looking polished and handsome, and piggybacking the terrifying CEO Yoo Jimin, who was currently nuzzling his neck and playing with his hair.

Clatter.

Ren dropped a box of files. Papers spilled everywhere.

"Oh my god," Ren whispered. "It's real. The prophecy is real."

Ningning just stared, her mouth slightly open. She looked from Y/n’s tired but happy face to Jimin’s possessive glare.

Jimin, sensing an audience, lifted her head from Y/n’s shoulder. She recognized the two terrified interns.

"Oh," she said, her voice switching instantly from 'baby' to 'boss', though she didn't climb down. "It's the friends. The noisy ones."

"Hi guys," Y/n said casually, shifting Jimin’s weight. "How's... data entry?"

"Y/n," Ningning said slowly. "Why are you wearing the CEO as a backpack?"

"Her legs broke," Y/n explained calmly.

"They went on strike," Jimin corrected, resting her chin back on Y/n’s head and staring at Ningning. "Do you have a problem with my transportation methods, Intern Ning?"

"No! No problem at all, Ma'am!" Ningning saluted, terrified but also fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. "It looks... very ergonomic."

"It is," Jimin agreed. She tightened her arms around Y/n’s neck. "He is very comfortable. And he smells like cheap laundry detergent. I love it."

"Hey," Y/n protested. "It's 'Ocean Breeze'."

"It smells like poverty," Jimin said lovingly, kissing his cheek loudly in front of them. "My favorite scent."

Ren looked like he was going to pass out. "Does... does HR know about this?"

"I am HR," Jimin deadpanned.

She checked her diamond-encrusted watch on her wrist, which was dangling in front of Y/n’s face.

"Y/n, I'm hungry," she whined, kicking her feet slightly. "Stop talking to the peasants. Feed me."

"Don't call my friends peasants, Jimin," Y/n scolded her gently, like a parent correcting a child.

"Fine," she huffed, burying her face in his neck again. "Stop talking to the valued entry-level employees. I want corn dogs. The ones with the potatoes on the outside."

"Okay, okay," Y/n sighed. He looked at his friends apologetically. "I gotta go, guys. See you in class tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Ningning said, snapping a quick photo with her phone while Y/n wasn't looking. "See you, Y/n. Good luck with... the baby."

"I heard that!" Jimin hissed, but she was too comfortable to do anything about it.

Y/n carried her through the automatic doors and out onto the busy sidewalk. Passersby stared. A few people recognized her—she was on the cover of Forbes, after all—and stopped in their tracks, jaws dropping as the Ice Queen giggled while being carried by a handsome young man.

"Everyone is looking," Y/n noted.

"Let them look," Jimin mumbled happily. "My feet don't hurt, and I have the best view."

They reached her black limousine waiting at the curb. The driver, Mr. Choi, didn't even blink. He just opened the back door.

Y/n turned so he could deposit her into the seat, but Jimin refused to let go.

"Jimin, you have to let go so we can get in," Y/n said.

"No," she pouted. "Come in with me. Just fall backwards."

"That's dangerous."

"I'll cushion you. I'm soft."

Eventually, Y/n managed to untangle her limbs and slide her into the leather seat. He climbed in beside her. Immediately, she was on him again, scrambling over the center console to sit in his lap, straddling his legs, burying her face in his chest.

"Battery low," she murmured, closing her eyes. "Recharging."

Y/n wrapped his arms around her waist securely, resting his head back against the seat. "You are extremely high maintenance, you know that?"

Jimin looked up, grinning mischievously. "But the pay is good, right?"

"The pay is excellent," Y/n admitted.

"And the boss is hot," she added, poking his nose.

"The boss is... okay."

Jimin gasped, feigning outrage. She grabbed his tie and pulled him down for a deep, searing kiss that left them both breathless.

"Say I'm hot," she whispered against his lips.

"You're hot," Y/n breathed.

"And say you're mine."

"I'm yours, Jimin."

She smiled, a brilliant, genuine smile that reached her eyes. She settled back down against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Good," she whispered, closing her eyes as the car began to move. "Now wake me up when we get to the corn dogs. And if you try to move your arm, I'm firing Ren."

"Understood," Y/n chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

Back in the lobby, Ningning looked at the photo she had taken—Jimin clinging to Y/n like a koala, looking happier than anyone had ever seen her.

"Well," Ningning said, picking up the spilled files. "At least we know our jobs are safe."

"Why?" Ren asked, still shaking.

"Because," Ningning smirked. "If she fires us, Y/n won't give her piggyback rides anymore. We are literally protected by the power of love and laziness."

Winter walked by them on her way out, hearing the comment. She paused, adjusting her glasses.

"Actually," Winter said dryly. "You're protected because he's the first person in five years who makes her eat lunch instead of yelling at clouds. Don't mess it up."

Winter walked out the door, a small, satisfied smirk on her face. Her boss was finally happy, and all it cost was the dignity of one very handsome intern.

A fair trade, really.

The semester was coming to an end. The leaves in Seoul had turned from vibrant orange to dead brown, and the first snow began to dust the city streets.

For Y/n, life had become a surreal blur of exams, cheap instant coffee, and evenings spent in the most expensive penthouse in Gangnam.

It was a Friday night. Y/n was sitting on Jimin’s Italian leather sofa, which cost more than his parents’ house, reading a textbook on Macroeconomics.

Jimin was there too. She was lying on the floor—despite owning the sofa—with her head resting on the coffee table, staring at Y/n upside down. She was wearing one of Y/n’s oversized hoodies, which she had stolen weeks ago and refused to return.

"Y/n," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the massive living room.

"Yes, Jimin?" Y/n turned a page, not looking up.

"I have prepared a new contract. For next semester."

Y/n smiled. "I thought my internship was extended indefinitely? Winter said I'm on the payroll until I die."

"This is a different contract," Jimin said, rolling over and sitting up. Her face was unusually serious. A rare flush of pink dusted her cheeks.

She reached under the table and pulled out a sleek, black velvet folder. She slid it across the glass surface toward him.

"Read it. Sign it. No lawyers needed."

Y/n put his book down. He picked up the folder. It looked ominous. Had he messed up the budget reports? Was he being fired?

He opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of heavy, cream-colored paper. The header read:
PROPOSAL FOR EXCLUSIVE PARTNERSHIP & DOMESTIC MERGER

Y/n squinted. He read the first paragraph.

Parties involved: Yoo Jimin (The CEO/Owner) and Y/n (The Asset/Boyfriend).
Objective: To establish a permanent, romantic, and exclusive relationship involving kissing, hand-holding, and sharing of hoodies.
Clause 1: Y/n agrees to be Yoo Jimin’s boyfriend effective immediately.

Y/n stared at the paper. Then he looked at Jimin.

She was watching him with the intensity of a hawk spotting a mouse, biting her lower lip nervously.

A nervous chuckle bubbled up in Y/n’s throat. It was a defense mechanism. The idea of the Yoo Jimin—a billionaire, a goddess, a titan of industry—drafting a legal document to ask out a broke college student was just too absurd.

"Wow," Y/n laughed, closing the folder. "You really went all out for this joke, huh? Did Winter type this up? It's funny. 'Domestic Merger'. Good one, Jimin."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jimin’s face fell. The hopeful light in her eyes vanished, replaced by a look of sheer, crushed devastation.

"A joke?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Y/n grinned, still thinking she was teasing him. "I mean, look at you. Look at me. It's a funny bit."

Jimin didn't say anything. She stood up slowly. She snatched the folder from his hands.

"I don't make jokes about acquisitions," she said, her voice trembling.

She turned on her heel and marched away, disappearing down the hallway toward her bedroom. The door slammed shut with a finality that made Y/n wince.

Click. The lock turned.

Y/n sat there, the smile sliding off his face.

"Oh," he whispered to the empty room. "Oh, shit."

He stood outside her bedroom door for ten minutes, knocking gently.

"Jimin? Open the door."

No answer.

"Jimin, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh."

Silence. Then, a muffled voice from inside. "Go away. Go study your Macroeconomics. Go marry a calculator."

Y/n sighed, leaning his forehead against the wood. "Jimin, I don't want to marry a calculator. I want to talk to you."

"I am unavailable. I am in a meeting with my sadness."

Y/n knew he had to fix this. He remembered the spare key Winter had given him for "emergencies involving emotional outbursts." He dug it out of his wallet.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The room was dark, lit only by the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Jimin was sitting on the edge of her massive king-sized bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, glaring at the floor.

She looked small.

Y/n walked over and knelt in front of her. He placed his hands on her knees.

"Jimin," he said softly.

She turned her head away. "You laughed. I poured my heart into that clause about hoodie sharing."

"I know," Y/n said, his heart aching. "I'm an idiot. But Jimin... you have to understand why I laughed."

"Because I'm desperate? Because I'm clingy?" She looked at him, eyes wet.

"No," Y/n said firmly. "Because I'm terrified."

Jimin blinked. "You? Terrified? Of what? I'm the one putting myself out there."

Y/n let out a shaky breath. He gestured to the room around them. "Look at this place, Jimin. Look at who you are. You're... you're everything. You're powerful, rich, beautiful. And I'm just Y/n. I have student debt. I take the bus. I eat ramen three times a week."

He looked down at his hands resting on her silk pajamas.

"I laughed because the idea of you actually wanting me—not as an intern, not as a toy, but as a boyfriend—seemed impossible. I thought you were mocking me. I feel... insecure, Jimin. I feel like I'm not enough for you."

The room went quiet.

Jimin slowly lowered the pillow. She looked at Y/n—really looked at him—and saw the fear behind his eyes.

She reached out, her cool fingers cupping his face, tilting his head up so he had to look at her.

"You are an idiot," she said, but her voice was incredibly tender.

"I know," Y/n whispered.

"Money is just paper, Y/n," she said fiercely. "I have enough of it for ten lifetimes. I don't need a partner with a portfolio. I need someone who knows how I like my coffee. I need someone who lets me piggyback on them when I'm tired. I need someone who doesn't look at me like a walking ATM, but looks at me like... like I'm a person."

She leaned down, her forehead resting against his.

"When I'm with you, I'm not the CEO. I'm just Jimin. You give me that peace. No amount of money can buy that."

She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone.

"So, don't you dare say you're not enough. You are my most valuable asset. You're the only thing I've ever been afraid of losing."

Y/n felt a tear slip down his cheek. He covered her hand with his own.

"I love you, Jimin," he confessed, the words tumbling out. "I've loved you since the day you yelled at that director for interrupting us. I just didn't think I was allowed to."

Jimin’s eyes widened. A smile—radiant, breathtaking, and victorious—broke across her face.

"Say it again," she demanded.

"I love you."

"Good," she whispered. "Now come here."

She didn't wait. She leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and sweet. It wasn't the tentative peck from the office. This was deep, full of longing and relief. Y/n rose from his knees, sitting on the bed beside her, pulling her close by the waist.

Jimin made a happy, humming sound against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair. She tasted like strawberries and expensive champagne.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Jimin didn't let go. She rested her forehead against his, her eyes closed, a content smile on her lips.

"So," she whispered. "Does this mean the contract is signed?"

Y/n laughed, a genuine, happy sound. "Yes. Clause 1 accepted. I am your boyfriend."

"Excellent," Jimin purred. She pushed him backward until he was lying on the bed, and she crawled on top of him, resting her chin on his chest.

"Now we need to discuss Clause 2," she said seriously.

"What's Clause 2?"

"Full access to your schedule. And weekends are mandatory cuddle time. Non-negotiable."

Y/n ran his fingers through her hair. "I think I can agree to that."

"Also," she added, tracing the buttons of his shirt. "I'm paying off your student loans. Don't argue. It's a signing bonus."

"Jimin, no—"

"Hush," she kissed him quickly to shut him up. "I'm the CEO. I make the rules. Just say 'Thank you, Girlfriend'."

Y/n smiled up at her, feeling lighter than he had in years. "Thank you, Girlfriend."

Six Months Later

Graduation day was chaotic. The campus was swarming with families, flowers, and screaming students.

Y/n stood in his cap and gown, flanked by Ren and Ningning.

"I can't believe we made it," Ren sighed. "I thought I was going to fail Stats."

"I can't believe he made it," Ningning said, pointing at Y/n. "Considering he spends 90% of his time being a trophy husband."

"I am not a trophy husband," Y/n argued, adjusting his tassel. "I work hard. I'm a Junior Associate now."

"Sure, sure," Ningning rolled her eyes. "Oh look, here comes the royal motorcade."

A sleek black limousine pulled up to the curb. The crowd parted.

Winter stepped out first, looking sharp as ever. She opened the back door.

Yoo Jimin stepped out.

She wasn't wearing business attire. She was wearing a stunning, soft pastel dress that made her look like an angel, holding a massive bouquet of blue roses. She spotted Y/n instantly.

Unlike the 'Ice Queen' of the past, she didn't wait for him to come to her. She practically ran across the grass, ignoring the whispers and the cameras.

"Y/n!" she called out.

Y/n barely had time to open his arms before she collided with him, hugging him tight enough to crack a rib.

"You graduated!" she squealed, burying her face in his neck. "My clever, handsome boy. I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, baby," Y/n laughed, spinning her around slightly. "You're making a scene."

"I don't care," Jimin beamed, pulling back to look at him. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small velvet box.

Ren and Ningning gasped. "Is she purposing? Again?"

"No," Jimin said, opening the box to reveal a key. "I got you a present. It's the key to the penthouse. Officially. Your name is on the deed now too."

Y/n stared at the key. "Jimin... that's too much."

"It's practical," she shrugged, but her eyes were dancing with love. "Now I don't have to get up to let you in when you forget yours."

She leaned in, ignoring the entire graduating class of 2024 watching them, and kissed him soundly on the lips.

"Congratulations, Y/n," she whispered against his mouth. "Now let's go home. I ordered a feast. And I want to try that 'piggyback' thing again, but this time up the stairs."

Y/n smiled, taking her hand—the hand of the most powerful woman in Seoul, who happened to be the love of his life.

"Whatever you say, Boss."

"That's 'Babe' to you," she corrected, dragging him toward the limo.

Winter watched them go, shaking her head with a smile. She looked at Ren and Ningning.

"Get in," Winter said. "She bought the whole restaurant. You two are invited."

"Score!" Ren cheered.

As the car drove away, Y/n looked at Jimin, who was currently taking a selfie of them holding hands to post on the company's official Instagram. He realized he was the luckiest man alive.

He had the job, he had the degree, and most importantly, he had the girl.

And she was never, ever letting him go.

The penthouse was quiet when they finally stepped inside, the city lights glittering far below like a carpet of stars.

The feast Jimin had ordered was laid out on the dining table—caviar, lobster, champagne on ice—but neither of them looked at it.

Jimin kicked off her heels the moment the door closed, turning to Y/n with an expression that was no longer playful. It was raw, hungry, and reverent all at once.

She stepped forward, hands sliding up his chest, pushing his graduation gown off his shoulders. It pooled on the marble floor like black silk.

"Y/n," she whispered, voice low and trembling with something deeper than lust. "I need you. Right now. I've waited all day."

He cupped her face, thumb brushing her lower lip. "We have all night, Jimin."

"No," she breathed, pressing her forehead to his. "I don't want to wait anymore. I want you inside me. I want to feel you claim me the way I've already claimed you."

The words hit him like a shot of pure heat. He kissed her—hard, desperate, months of restraint snapping like a frayed wire. She moaned into his mouth, fingers fumbling with his tie, ripping it free.

They stumbled down the hallway, mouths fused, hands frantic. Jimin’s dress slid down her shoulders, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but lace panties and the diamond necklace he’d given her for their three-month anniversary.

Y/n’s breath caught. She was breathtaking—pale skin glowing in the moonlight, curves he’d memorized with his eyes now begging to be touched.

"Bedroom," he rasped.

"No," she said, pushing him against the wall instead. "Here. I want you everywhere tonight."

She dropped to her knees.

Y/n’s head hit the wall with a soft thud as she unbuckled his belt, dragging his zipper down with her teeth. His cock sprang free, hard and aching, and Jimin looked up at him with those dark, possessive eyes.

"Mine," she whispered, and took him into her mouth.

Y/n groaned, fingers threading through her hair as she sucked him deep, tongue swirling, throat relaxing until her nose brushed his abdomen. She hummed around him, the vibration making his knees buckle.

"Fuck—Jimin—"

She pulled off with a wet pop, licking her lips. "You taste like forever."

He hauled her up, kissing her fiercely, tasting himself on her tongue. Then he spun her around, pressing her chest to the wall, hands sliding down her body to grip her hips.

"Condom?" he panted against her ear.

"Drawer in the hallway table," she gasped. "I put them everywhere. Just in case."

He laughed breathlessly, tearing open the foil with his teeth, rolling it on with shaking hands.

Jimin arched her back, pushing her ass against him. "Now, Y/n. Please."

He pushed her panties aside and slid into her in one slow, devastating thrust.

They both cried out.

She was impossibly tight, impossibly wet, clenching around him like she was trying to pull him deeper. He stilled, buried to the hilt, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades.

"God, Jimin—"

"Move," she begged, voice breaking. "Please move."

He did.

Slow at first, savoring every inch, every whimper she made. Then faster, harder, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the penthouse. Jimin’s nails clawed at the wall, her moans rising in pitch.

"Harder," she sobbed. "I want to feel you tomorrow when I walk into board meetings. I want to sit in my chair and remember you fucked me against this wall."

Y/n growled, one hand sliding up to cup her breast, pinching her nipple until she keened. The other slipped between her legs, circling her clit.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered against her neck. "Let me feel you fall apart."

She shattered—crying his name, walls fluttering around him, thighs shaking so hard he had to hold her up. The sight of her coming undone pushed him over the edge; he thrust deep and spilled inside her with a broken groan.

They slid to the floor together, limbs tangled, breathing ragged.

Jimin turned in his arms, cupping his face, eyes glassy with tears—not from pain, but from overwhelming emotion.

"I love you," she whispered, voice raw. "So much it scares me."

Y/n kissed her slow and deep, tasting salt and her. "I love you more than I have words for. And I’m never leaving. Ever."

She smiled through the tears, climbing into his lap, guiding him back inside her with a soft sigh.

"Then show me again," she breathed. "Show me until the sun comes up."

They didn’t make it to the bedroom until dawn.

They made love on the hallway floor, then the kitchen counter, then the massive glass window overlooking the city—Jimin pressed against the cold pane, Y/n behind her, whispering filthy praise in her ear while the entire skyline watched.

By the time they finally collapsed into bed, sheets tangled, bodies marked with love bites and fingerprints, the first rays of sunrise painted them gold.

Jimin lay half on top of him, tracing lazy hearts over his chest.

"Marry me," she said suddenly, voice soft but certain.

Y/n blinked sleepily. "We’ve been dating six months."

"I don’t care," she said, lifting her head to look at him. "I’ve known since the day you offered me water in that elevator. I want forever. I want your last name. I want to wake up every morning with you inside me and fall asleep with you still there."

Y/n brushed her hair from her face, thumb stroking her cheek.

"Then yes," he whispered. "A thousand times yes."

Jimin’s smile was blinding. She kissed him—slow, deep, reverent.

"Good," she murmured against his lips. "Because I already bought the ring. And the venue. And I told Winter to clear my schedule for the next two weeks. We’re getting married in Jeju next month."

Y/n laughed, rolling them so he hovered over her, sliding back inside her with a groan.

"You’re insane," he said, kissing her neck, her jaw, her lips.

"Your insane," she corrected, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Now make love to your fiancée until we miss the flight."

And so they did.

Until the sun was high in the sky, until their voices were hoarse, until every inch of the penthouse smelled like them—until the most powerful woman in Seoul was reduced to a trembling, crying, laughing mess beneath the man who loved her exactly as she was.

Broken, brilliant, clingy, possessive, childish, perfect Jimin.

And Y/n—poor, ordinary, extraordinary Y/n—became the richest man in the world.

Not because of money.

But because every night, for the rest of his life, he would fall asleep inside the woman who chose him.

And every morning, he would wake up to her whispering the same three words against his skin:

"You are mine."