#nothing's confirmed yet they still have to do the hr shit and send me the actual offer | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugar-petals · 6 years ago

Text

Trophy Boyfriend (m)

PAIRING: yoongi x ceo!reader

WORD COUNT: 37k

SYNOPSIS: He’s accomplished. He’s sexy. He is the perfect subordinate. But something about your new secretary seems off. Yoongi wouldn’t be the first spy in your company.

GENRE: business au — smut | action

WARNINGS: dom!reader, brat/painslut!yoongi, cunnilingus, bondage, riding, cockwarming, edging, vaginal sex (protected), thigh riding, slaps, anal (unprotected), fingering, mention of blood, no prep, name-calling, spanking, aftercare, scent kink, cbt, harassment, hurt & comfort

A/N: welcome to this monster of a one shot. if you like e2l, grab a snack 😄requested by @.hopiiiie!

You smack down the papers on your desk where they disperse. Fury. The file, albeit your favorite contender, is immaculate except one detail.

It’s in the middle of the timeline where the letters appear larger than the surrounding ones, as if you put a magnifying glass on top of the hefty pile.

Yoongi worked at Lexcom four years ago.

With the top tier league. The luminaries. The impostors. Your greatest rivals.

He even listed them below, one by one, in the neatest of bullet points. Nothing could be more irritating. But the hiring contract form is already on your desk, begging for you to fill in the blanks and boxes with his name. You turn the CV upside down so you don’t have to see the tidy font anymore. To your dismay, even the reverse side of the paper has a detailed work history written on it. And a compilation of rather lofty awards.

You shove one of the other, much more slipshod applicant files on top of it and get up, rip the window open. You hope that the wind carries out all of the CVs with one gush. But it’s May. There’s no breeze at all. The door to your office slams into its dated angles when you leave the room. Even that sound, though always gratifying as of recently now that nobody is actually around, doesn’t make it any better.

The secretary room feels all too empty now. You pace around on the carpet, going through the details of the CV over and over again inside your head. What keeps on bothering you — the sheer audacity. Or was it, well, plain naïve? Impossible. Anybody at Lexcom and from Lexcom knew you’d stay away from them as much as possible. Even if the person had left work at their headquarters a relatively long time ago. Four years, within the pace of the current market, is a very long time, that’s what you own up to, but still: Yoongi was in direct contact with the elite team that so ruthlessly conducted the scam of the century. And now he applied to become your new assistant.

The carpet already sports traces where you had been walking in circles thinking about it. Hiring, how much you hate that nasty shit. There are twenty files that came in with the post from Monday to Wednesday, pre-selected with utmost care, but all of them straight-up bogus with the most improper of qualifications, and one that fits, one!

There’s no alternative. You lean on the secretary desk with both fists closed. Seokjin left it spotless and the drawers in remarkable order. That was back when you didn’t slam doors. It’s so lifeless in this room. You miss him.

After punching in a quick 5-number combination into your desk telephone, a high-pitched, cheery voice emerges at the other end of the line. It’s Park Jimin from HR.

“Can I help?”

“Hey Park. It’s about the applicant, Yoongi.”

“Oh! Yoongi, yes?”

“I’ve checked his curriculum again. I don’t know what Seokjin would even say about that. Need to know your take before I decide.”

“The curriculum, um. Well, I think— Worth the risk,” Jimin shortcuts, “qualifies as basically stellar”.

“Hm. What I thought.”

You already suspect why. Yoongi has a background in accounting, which was one of Jin’s very few shortcomings, but nevertheless, a crucial one. He always had to delegate some of it and couldn’t catch up either. As per the Golden Book, you do require at least five years of accounting experience for the position, and let Jimin know every now and then when new applicants call, especially with the current situation. It’s why you decided to pick Yoongi’s file as a favorite in the first place instead.

“You didn’t ask twice back when Seokjin applied. Why now?”

“I know. This is... a tougher decision. He’s excellent, that’s why.”

You can almost hear Jimin nod through the speaker.

“He even owns and writes for ‘Six Rules’. Never guessed who could be behind that.”

The infamous business blog that’s been making rounds. Jin bought and praised the book that was released under the same title probably two years ago, you don’t quite remember.

“Yeah.”

“You might as well say, Yoongi is not a secretary. He invented it.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“You should read the book. I have it, too. It’s like declining Celine Dion if she calls. His work at Lexcom is long over. Four years is quite a long time.”

“That I agree with.”

“The fact that he put Lexcom in the CV in the first place. Nothing else shows he has nothing to hide. That’s not a strategy of someone who wants to harm our company. Lexcom is sneaky. Yoongi isn’t. He has all of his cards on the table. Think about it.”

“Well, he can’t lie on his CV or leave it out, Park.”

“Jin would like him. That’s all I can say.”

“I’m not convinced. Check your email after lunch.”

“Read the book.”

“Oh well—”

“You’re missing Jin because he went by everything good that Yoongi wrote. Good meaning, everything.”

“I hope so. Later, cheers.”

The telephone beeps away until you put it down. The shelf next to Jin’s desk does have a couple books left in it. You already know that he doesn’t have to take them with him to memorize what’s inside. Or maybe it would have been too much of a hassle to bring home. You clear out a dozen empty folders and stack them on the desk so you can browse through the book titles without taking out each one of them. Keys to Management, Accounting 101, Advanced Grammar, Essential Steps To Successful Consulting, Basics of Civil Law, Copyright Law—

Six Rules: The Way of The Secretary. It’s not a job. It’s a lifestyle!

Written by Min Yoongi. Published by Lexcom Press. Seoul, 2016.

You shake your head in disbelief, toss the blue hardcover back and forth between your palms. Quite a lot of pages. The table of contents reveals the same neat structure from Yoongi’s CV, even the same font. He’s consistent. You decide to go back into your office and put the book on the fringe of your desk.

The twenty files in the center, almost impossibly scattered now, went through Jimin’s fingers last week for selection. Judging by his enthusiasm for Yoongi, you start to doubt that he handed you the nineteen other obviously bogus applications without bias or knowing full well which one would make the race according to your criteria.

The hiring contract looks even more tempting now. You turn around the top page of Yoongi’s curriculum again to dart your eyes across the first part of the work history for what feels like the 30th time today. A lot of management accounting here, auditing there. Time abroad in Switzerland, one and a half years. Maybe he is, indeed, the Celine Dion whose call you should by all means not decline.

The corridors are strangely silent when you clatter through them, headed to your office when the sun rises above the Han River. You hear from the social media department forming a decent queue at the coffee machine preparing their tea and macchiato that there’s been gossip, but they pull rather furtive and taut faces when you ask what that gossip was about.

At your desk, the first thing you do is check your email. Jimin’s upbeat replies from yesterday evening moved down a little, while a new message from Namjoon popped up. Your CCO since a year, yet already irreplaceable. It doesn’t have any content except a sequence of letters and numbers.

— CODE 19. #9828.

#9828 looks familiar. You gather Yoongi’s file, by now, the only one on your desk, and glance to the header where the same number is imprinted with italics. It’s the applicant cipher. And code 19, integral to the Golden Book, is universally known since the last incident, shortly before you took over the company from your mother.

Code 19 means threat of espionage.

You reply Namjoon a short confirmation right away and storm out the door. HR here you come. You knew something wasn’t right with Yoongi the second Jimin handed you the batch of files.

Jimin, ruffled hair but collar stiff, paces up and down on his rather maltreated office carpet whose halcyon days have long passed. The printer you lean on is currently busy spouting data sheets and stock results. Economy department sent a request, and Jimin has the only printer on the floor. The door is firmly closed. Your patience is running out but Jimin still goes onto his fifth tangent.

“Y/N. Code 19 is not a fact, it’s an assumption. It’s a possible threat. You were the one saying that when you instructed me to the Golden Book. Joon picked a up a rumor at a meeting, that’s about it. There are a lot of jealous people out there. They don’t want Yoongi to strengthen our business. They know he’d perform well here. As your backup.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t you check the news on your app? Lexcom has its eyes on Hoseok’s company. They won’t send us a spy. Just because you consider them a rival, doesn’t mean they think of you as one in return. Those days are gone. They think we’re out of the competition already. We’re way below. Not dangerous to their monopoly game. That’s what Lexcom thinks. Hoseok’s company is where the money is instead. The innovations. The right minds, the right people, the right symbols and slogans. It’s where Lexcom will attack. If they send a spy, if they send Yoongi for their gain, then he’d go there. Yongsang Digital is on the rise. Hoseok is a brilliant head. His softwares give solutions where nobody thought problems would be.”

“Park, you sound like you wanna work there. Our company doesn’t create artificial needs.”

The social media directors and other staff strut down the corridor and Jimin pauses until they reach the stairwell.

“It’s not the point. What I wanna say is. Y/N, you put your signature on the contract. The paperwork is done. You can’t fire him before he even shows up here. You said his book is great yourself!”

“The rumors. I’ll take them seriously. I trust Namjoon’s weary eye. He won’t mail me Code 19 without a solid reason. Yoongi is a real risk. I don’t care about Lexcom’s interest in Hoseok and his slogans.”

The chatter in the stairwell slowly ceases and Jimin no longer sounds like he’s short of whispering.

“It’s nothing of substance to pin down. Yoongi’s interview went well. He’s dapper, he’s smart, he can handle a stress situation. Every interviewee reported a good impression. Namjoon’s eye gets a little too weary when he’s busy elsewhere. You act like Yoongi is about to replace you or hangs outside your office window like Tom Cruise with binoculars, what on earth.”

“Impressions aren’t everything. Especially when it’s someone who’s been in the devil’s den.”

“Four years ago! Before the scam went down, and that wasn’t even in his department.”

“Four years ago. It was the adjacent department, he was involved for sure.”

The printer stops. Jimin takes out the papers and staples them.

“This is HR. I do this every day. You trust me as much as you trust Namjoon, do you?”

“If you spill too much praise for Yongsang Digital and read books by Lexcom Press, maybe not.”

“You read it, too!”

“Recommended by you. Listen, Yoongi arrives in one hour. Namjoon is not in office, I can’t call him. He’s in another external meeting, they have a presentation going on there.”

“If that’s not fate?”

“Fate isn’t what makes business good and safe. Yoongi is an excellent candidate. But I decided that we have to annul—”

Jimin’s phone rings only once. It’s the reception’s number popping up on the screen. After nodding twice, Jimin, past the printer, rushes out of the door smiling. He has the printed papers clamped under his arm. The front page has a sticky note on it. For Secretary M.Y. — Please report + double-check. You follow Jimin down the corridor fuming.

He’s already here. Fifty minutes early because he can. The hailed secretary genius from Lexcom. Fifty fucking minutes. Because he’s ‘dapper’, polished, handles stress well, and writes dastardly prodigouous books about lifestyle, not jobs. With all these trophies and the right type of experience. You already know Yoongi’s a big piece of shit.

Jimin’s back before you is almost taunting. Going down the steps from the center hallway seems to take forever. Perhaps it’s just the feeling in your gut, but even the new elevator is terrifyingly slow today. Fuck Orbit Electrics, all they can do is craft you a shiny bleeping steel box that looks good but won’t actually go up and down the way it should. It’s a disgrace, it runs on your goddamn software. You check the display panel where a red number glows. 6th floor. Jimin’s smile in the mirror becomes all the more annoying. He notices, and starts going through the papers humming a Celine Dion song. At least is smells good in here, some nice aftershave.

You distract yourself with the small reading session’s afterthoughts from yesterday. The book persuaded you too fast to tick the boxes and put down the signature. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the affect. Yoongi is passionate about business. Every page reads very much like it. But now, in a sober moment? Too much regret, at the wrong point in time. You would be glad to have Yoongi join the office if he had been a trusted employee so far in another department.

Heck, you’d even take him if he worked at Yongsang Digital before the company blew up. Jimin is right about Hoseok and his team, they do bring the innovation on the market. But Yoongi, effectually, is not from Yongsang Digital. A walk through the office this morning reminded you who would be the one and only person suitable for this job, still. How can you miss Jin so much?

3rd floor. Jimin not only hums, but also dances from foot to foot. Your eye rolls won’t faze him. He keeps on swaying. HR is one hell of a department. Their coffee is too strong there. Jin always had two cups of tea each morning. Herbal. You are glad that he, judging by the pictures on his feed a week ago, has found a little share of peace in life with his family. Gwangju is a nice city. He got hired at a consulting business, gave up on smoking.

Jin’s happiness was more important than this job. Not that he didn’t enjoy the office work, but Jihye wasn’t content in clouded Seoul after their marriage, as were the kids. Jin thought the same after a while of hearing complaints and mentioning it to you, which was probably a good sign. A joint family decision is much better than being at opposing ends. When you love each other, you feel each other. Much of that mentality, although not in a romantic way, made him the secretary he was. It’s where the certificates came from.

The farewell was on good terms because you knew about Jihye’s opinion. It’s was not because Jin followed the Six Rules, which, even after reading the book you could not reconstruct in hindsight. It was the honesty on both sides that made him the ideal assistant to you. His most important contributions are already engraved in the frames all around his office. Trophies, who cares. Jin got it all written down for him.

The staff from the relocation team got your personal order to let them hanging because Seokjin said he was moving on, he didn’t need the certificates anymore just like everything on the bookshelf. That his professional and platonic time took place with you was the only memory that counted and that he took with him. So the certificates still stayed next to the door to your office, behind the wall at the oaken desk. You walk past them every morning when you come into your office. Even today, and you looked at them for much longer than usual.

1st floor. Your absent-mined stare on Jimin’s hands doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. You think about how the certificates could either be a menace or reason for a good belly laugh to Yoongi. Even if, yes, his file reads like an unblemished success story. So far. The benefit of the doubt still rules. But that doesn’t mean you will cast aside all suspicions. The stocks are doing well, yet you can’t manage the loss of not having them stabilize throughout winter.

A loss that would come about so easily if Code 19 hit the bullseye and Yoongi’s ties with Lexcom were never cut in the first place.

His CV certainly could make someone believe that he really did, since he’s been busy accounting and doing freelance jobs since then. It’s all in the timeline. It was all very unlike his work with software at Lexcom. But finding out how loyal Yoongi is even to his font, you can’t exclude the same for his former employer. You have to call Namjoon as soon as possible to verify things. Otherwise, instead of the certificates, Lexcom’s eyes dangle on the wall the second Yoongi moves in. Metaphorically speaking. Or quite literally. Surveillance software is the new market. You have to speak about the strongroom with Namjoon the second he sets foot in his office again.

“GROUND FLOOR,” the elevator voice announces.

“Ah, Front of House. Always a joy,” Jimin finishes his dance with a wink at his own reflection in the mirror. HR really does have the strongest coffee. Or the toners from Jimin’s printer puff out some weird fucking fumes. You’ll alert Taehyung that it needs maintenance.

Jimin stacks the papers against his knee twice to make them look less disheveled and greets two guys from the IT. Your eyes are elsewhere. There’s an up-tempo jazz tune coming from the street. The musicians, one with a trombone, another with a cello, the third with a guitar, are not something you’d see or hear from your office during the day. They tap their feet in perfect rhythm on the pavement opposite the the foyer glass facade where a turnstile spins and lets in both people and the melody.

Good, groovy music. It’s what you always liked. Your mother wanted SeoulTec to be at the heart of the city for that purpose, too. To feel the beat of the alleys. Jimin doesn’t really seem to bother, striding past the cafeteria where the pastries are all sold out today. Your eyes dart back to the entrance, musicians, and the street.

Even now, curious people are peering in to look at the silver statue located in the middle of the foyer. A giant and sleek crane, curved and sculpted almost entirely out of chrome. A symbol that decorated the hall for almost twenty years after a modern artist with a complicated name decided to design and build it under difficult circumstances, which in and of itself was symbolic for the company.

The interest in the passers-by, however, even if you see them almost every week when you come here, makes you smile. Maybe Front of House isn’t too bad, after all. Yoongi’s arrival is making you think about things you took for granted. Because everything inside of this building could be going down within the span of a day.

Behind the statue, some ludicrous ad standees and service desks stretch out row after row. A few steps away — the reception with a quirky pot plant next to it. A queue of roughly fifteen people ranges from one standee to the place where you see Taehyung sit at his computer, in his second-best suit with the little dots on the shirt underneath. It’s one of those days.

“Nice morning, T!” Jimin greets, making the people in the queue turn their heads after just randomly staring around looking rather impatient.

“Rowdy morning,” Taehyung cocks a brow from behind the reception table, typing while he speaks. “You’ve heard that Yoongi is here, right.”

You’re sneering.

“Apparently, he’s an, uh, ghost? Jimin looked like you said to him on the phone, ‘hey Park, come down, Mister Lexcom arrived with flying colors!’ What happened to the fifty minutes earlier promise?”

Taehyung bites his lower lip.

“Well, ah. He is not here. Um, using the normal entrance. I didn’t want to talk too much on the phone. It’s because—”

“Hmm?”

Taehyung isn’t normally that shy.

“Yoongi’s got a fancy car. He did come in through Front of House but decided to leave it in our subterranean before you both could come down. The elevators are slower today, don’t know why, beats me. Couldn’t really stop him.”

If gazes could stab, Taehyung would be impaled by yours now.

“A fancy car, you say? And you just gave him access to the subterranean. Where my car is.”

“He’s your secretary. I’m obliged to give him the access password. That’s in the Golden Book.”

“Anyways,” Jimin interrupts. “The queue is getting longer. T is busy. Come on, Yoongi can’t access the building again from the subterranean without a key card, the code only goes one way. Concierge, would you be so kind?”

“Here it is.”

He hands over a turquoise, rectangular chip. The number #9828 is stamped into the white name field in the middle.

Min Yoongi, SeoulTec. Executive Assistant. DOB 09-03-93.

You take it from Taehyung with an empty smile.

“Last time you gave out the password. Apart from that, by the way. Send someone to take care of Jimin’s printer later.”

“Okay, Ma’am. On the list.”

“So long, T!” Jimin waves. “We’ll meet the ghost now.”

Your smile becomes twice as empty, and the chip two times as heavy in your palm. Seokjin handed his key card in a few days ago, with Taehyung becoming a bit teary-eyed. It was so used, the turquoise had come off. He had deserved to carry it all day.

Jimin already heads to the elevator again and presses the -3 button, then puts in the password. You join him with a teeth-gritting scowl. Impossible to hide how much you despise Min Yoongi, the grandiose fuck. He could have parked outside and asked you about garage opportunities later and not change his mind the last minute to make you wait at the reception. This is Lexcom type of conduct, you can smell it before the elevator even hits the basement level.

“SUBTERRANEAN,” its electronic voice drones over your heads.

Jimin grins when the doors part and the scent of gasoline engulfs you.

The designated area is a small walk away. If he wasn’t with you right now, Jimin would prance along the way and sing, “yay, I meet the Six Rules guy!”

“Excited? This is the HR dream,” he spouts.

“The day you get that Code 19 is a serious order I will be. I signed a contract to make our stocks drop.”

Hiring Yoongi was a death sentence.

“Too late for that order.”

You knew what happened back then when it was first used. Tax fraud allegation. False, but reputation ruined. Lexcom used the SeoulTec blueprints they got their eyes on, just a bit altered here and there, instead and hit it big. The spy was never identified. The rage still anchors from your head to toe. It’s what made your mother resign. You feel it now, all the more, and Jimin’s salesman smile makes it worse.

“But ready to throw hands with my own Executive Assistant and drag him out through the entire foyer.”

Jimin rolls his eyes.

“The foyer.”

“To let everyone know the SeoulTec safety policy. We won’t go bankrupt again.”

“So, throwing hands for that, then.”

“If need be, my office stays Tom Cruise antics free.”

“Tom Cruise? Try shake hands. Gotta stay professional. Dragging doesn’t send a safety message either. Keep your boxing gloves in the ring. Whatever pent up stuff you got going on there... Yoongi is a good guy.”

Jimin pats the stapled papers with the sticky note resting in his left hand, turns a corner into the parking lot. Only a few steps and one heavy door left, past the large “private garage” arrow. Jimin puts in the password once again to make the door click open.

It’s when the smell of diesel gets the most intense that you see his silhouette.

Surprisingly petite. A fresh haircut, ruffled through quite deliberately with gel in it. A suit in royal blue, so dark and velvety, Taehyung would dissolve in a jealous fit. The collar crisp and stiff, more than Jimin’s. Slightly tapered shoulders but without pads. A suitcase in his right hand.

He bows deeper than you thought. But you know why. That’s Rule Number I in the book.

You stop, keep a good distance, bow down half as deep. He pushes back his hair into its original form as you do.

“Hey, Porsche.”

His voice is deep and throaty. You sigh — at least on the inside. He’s seen your car. Parked at the other end of the garage by itself. He knew exactly it was yours and nobody else’s. The game of chess is on.

“Hey, Benz.”

Right behind him. A glossy car, CLS, all black, epitome of class. You know that the Lexcom executives drive the same brand, some even Maybach models. CEO Jeon does. If you drive Benz, you are Lexcom. You are part of the luminaries.

“Utmost pleasure. I’m sorry for the inconvenience with the reception.”

His deep eyes glower. Do you hear some nervosity in his voice?

Jimin reminds you of something important with a mere nod.

“Catch.”

You toss Yoongi the key card. A quick throw. Snap. His fist closes around it without a flinch to be seen from the rest of his body. One segment on his CV said: Interests — basketball.

“At your service. Thank you for accepting me.”

You twinkle. Maybe there is this tone of nervosity indeed. Now it’s your turn to remind Jimin.

“Park, would you be so kind? Pass him his first task.”

“Oh, yeah, the papers. Welcome to SeoulTec enterprises.”

The salesman smile grows wide. In return, Yoongi’s bony fingers store away the key card in his suit’s inlay, then reach out to the papers. He scrutinizes the first pages for a few seconds, then bows to you again.

“Perfect. That’s my job.”

You might as well pass out from gritting your teeth. He’s so inconceivably full of himself. That’s his true profession.

After Jimin and him exchanged some friendly verbiage for introduction, the sole noise between the three of you is Yoongi further rustling with his papers on the way up. You don’t know what else to say or think other than sizing him up. He’s just two feet away. Whatever gel he smeared into his hair to make it stick and shine, it’s the sign of a lot of time in the morning and haughtiness that surpasses your entire innovations department, and these are the guys who get all puffed up each time you drop by. Not even close, he’s worse. You have nothing against competitive intelligence between corporations, but he radiates it: Something far too dodgy and illegal. It’s the way his grey tie is fastened, his shirt is cuffed. Sabotage. Dirty cash bags. Drugs. Foreign prostitutes on corporate excursions. There has to be something weird about a guy that refers to their boss by her car’s brand and then goes on playing nice.

If you could drag him out through the foyer, you would not think twice at this point. But who are you to go about that just now without proof other than Namjoon’s judgement and your learned lessons from the resignment that broke your mother’s heart. Jimin is right to keep the boxing gloves away and be a reasonable leader, but how else can you assure that Yoongi hasn’t bribed Taehyung with two hundred thousand Won, knows how to hack, and installed a camera and microphone in his suitcase. Only when it’s too late and the damage is done can you do something about it. Even the actual fist fight you’d be more than down for wouldn’t harm the public image of SeoulTec as much as being betrayed and deceived again from your own ranks.

The elevator still smells like way too much petrol when the voice announces the 8th floor. But the only thing that concerns you is Yoongi’s aftershave. A distinct mix of orchid, sandalwood, something else, something more dangerous, luring. It’s driving you absolutely nuts, you wish you could wreck his. Jimin sends you a knowing glance. That is Rule Number II in the book at work you’re seeing indeed.

The two rugged IT guys from earlier set up an account and all the other paraphernalia for him, extra security at your demand, firewall. Jimin talks with Yoongi outside of the room. It’s unintelligible. When the IT leaves, Yoongi parts from Jimin bowing and props his suitcase onto the desk in a very non-Seokjin-like manner.

How dare he.

This desk is holy.

Big deals might not have been signed on it, that was on your desk. But here, SeoulTec’s future was still decided through the minutiae that Seokjin treasured and took care of. The way the suitcase just lands there— you can already tell, the right dose of respect is not flowing through Min Yoongi’s veins as expected. The way he throws himself into the chair, too.

“Thanks for the PC setup, seems very comprehensive. Got the password.”

“Good that you mention it. If there’s any concern, consult me first.”

“Will do. This office is nice.”

“Glad you like it. Utensils are in the left drawer.”

“Ah, for the papers. I won’t distract you further, I know you’re busy.”

“Just give me a shout, and there are cookies in my room.”

You can’t believe your just said that. Cookies.

By the time you sit down, door open to the secretary’s office, the papers are distributed on his desk, the suitcase is still in its place. Yoongi himself you see study the bookshelf with eager eyes, seemingly content, then working through the papers one by one with a stern gaze. You at least pretend to preoccupy yourself with medium priority phone calls and drinking three cups of extra strong coffee in the hopes that you can still wink at yourself in the mirror by the end of this day Jimin-style. Two hours later and the papers are on your desk, everything summarized, everything corrected. It’s all so neat. Every other CEO would do a standing ovation. But you don’t.

Every detail from the report has been scrutinized. You can tell by the bright green and orange highlighter pen marks all over. He was beyond thorough. You didn’t just hire a spy. You hired the self-proclaimed secretary mastermind who does appear to live up to that name. Shooting yourself in the foot by having him work for you is an understatement.

But who are you not to bite your tongue now and utter the due praise. There’s nothing to hold against him.

“Good job. Check your mail in a minute.”

“Oh yes, thank you Ma’am!”

Yoongi only smiles and spins on his tapered heel to return to the desk.

“Take a cookie before you go. I have chocolate, cream, and plain.”

“Right!”

He now heads to the small tray that you set up at the window. It’s deliberate — the view stuns anybody who lingers for a couple seconds. But Yoongi’s eyes won’t break from you the second he got himself a cookie. He doesn’t seem to plan biting into it anytime soon either.

“You have a question, right?” he says instead. Any other boss would love a secretary knowing what’s on their mind. But you don’t.

“The Six Rules,” you cock your head. It doesn’t take much more to get him talking.

“I knew you’re heard of it. Jimin said he recommended it to you.”

“When exactly did you come up with them?”

“Roughly four years ago, I think. It was a time when I learned a lot.”

“Four years, I see.”

What a fucking coincidence.

“Is there anything specific you want to know?”

Again, he knows your mind too well. He’s probably trained in planting cameras everywhere as much as he is trained to read your body language to a T.

“That’s it for now. Jimin was right to recommend it.”

“I’m honored. And this is cream, right?”

He holds up the cookie.

“Oh. Yes. My favorite as well. I’ll send the mail now.”

“Will reply in a minute!”

He leaves the office munching. A little ping from his PC lets you know that the data was transmitted. The amount of grudge you have sending it to him gladly wasn’t. But given how his eyes seem to read you like a book, Yoongi already knows how you hate giving him this task. It has to be done, it’s urgent. At least he didn’t mute the PC volume, that’s at least one good sign. So you hear what’s going on. Or maybe it’s done to distract you on purpose. He shouts into your room.

“Great, I’ll read it in a second!”

It really snaps you out of your train of thought: His voice is so raunchy. The distance from your desk to his is far enough to make him raise the tone this way, but close enough so you can enjoy the timbre. It almost makes you forget about Namjoon’s warning.

“Take it slow, it’s 50 pages. Nothing to read in one go. It’s the work of a couple years condensed, plus it’s still growing.”

“Splendid. Hold on.”

Just when you want to reply, he opens his suitcase. Without making it too obvious, you grab your phone, unlock the camera. Should he fuck around, you’ll have solid evidence. Something to rub into Jimin’s face as proof that Yoongi was in fact, the man you knew he would be. When the suitcase is wide open and he reaches inside, you are ready to press play. What comes into your sight, drawn out by his hand is—

A tissue.

The wipes his hand, the corners of his mouth, stands up, and drops it inside the bin behind the door to the hallway all crumpled up. Going back to the desk, he shuts the suitcase and lifts it from the table. As accurate as his pen circles on the first papers you looked at, he brings it down at the left side of him where it remains closed and ignored once he resumes scrolling at the PC. Your camera’s press play button remains untouched. Instead, you’re taking up an incoming phone call.

From Yoongi’s desk, only clicking and scribbling noises reach across the room while you make calls with project managers whose words about revenue, discarding and filing ideas, the new stakeholders — go right past your left ear at the phone speaker. All you care about is that Yoongi is taking notes while he goes through the Golden Book PDF. He’s taking. Notes. And scrolling slow. Soaking up every word. The project managers asking about the databases only get a less-than-satisfactory “hm, hm” of yours at the other end of the line.

You hang up all too soon. This is of no use. Emails you click away into the low-priority field. Then, stand up to walk into the secretary room. If only you could give him another task. But reading the Golden Book is strictly required on the first day. Because the book itself says so. You hate your own policies. They’re shit.

“How are you advancing?”

“Page twenty, Ma’am. I’m quite impressed. There are some profound things in there.”

You peek at Yoongi’s notes. He’s written two pages in petite lettering already. That’s what happens when you make your own company’s number one codex spy-proof but hire one regardless.

“The Golden Book... only gives employees a rough outline, a contour if you will. It’s more superficial than you might think. It changes all the time, too.”

“It looks more than just a guideline,” he shakes his head. You can see him pat the embossing on the front cover. The golden crane. “I’ll definitely keep these things in mind. Everything sounds like it comes from experience. And, lessons learned. I wouldn’t understate that.”

That feeling again. Just an inch under your skin. You’re boiling. It’s hard to hide your clenching fists before his eyes behind your back. Not only do you hate your policies. But also having to go full sophistry mode with Tom Cruise disguised as Celine Dion in your office doing his job as excellently as you thought he’d do it.

“The purpose was to not repeat mistakes, but also, to weed out the employees who harm the business.”

“Have just written that point down. About the nondisclosures and such. You might know, I’m big on security. A lot of people want a piece of good work. I’ve written Rule Number III considering this back and forth.”

Without a doubt, you know you are about the worst CEO of whole Seoul when it comes to hiring. Even Orbit Electronics couldn’t fuck up like that.

“I see you’re a few steps ahead.”

“It’s the cookies, Ma’am.”

Yoongi, after having a cup of herbal tea, flops his jacket across the hat rack where Seokjin’s old light blue umbrella still dangles side to side. He checks whether his shirt is tucked in properly at the waist three times, then jots down something on his notepad. You step inside the secretary room with an orange folder in your hand.

“Ready to go?”

“Looking forward to this.”

A quick glance into the bin and the certificates without being too obvious about it is harder to pull off than you think, but at least he leaves the room first. Who knows, he might have hidden a camera in the tissue. It would be unobtrusive enough.

“We start at innovations, last is maintenance and warehouse. The IT is a larger department, I’ll show you around tomorrow. It’s a bit overwhelming at first. You already know Taehyung, but we can still visit Front of House instead. I’ll introduce you to the service desks, they will call you here and there. Cafeteria should have new snacks by now, and green tea cake.”

“Yes, I like cake rolls. That’s an AB blood type thing to do.”

“Oh, AB is yours.”

It’s a bit of an outdated practice. And superstitious. But still, a custom. You’ve been wondering about his blood group since Taehyung handed over his key card.

“Let me guess yours. B, perhaps?”

“It’s zero.”

“Fitting of a chief executive. You might prefer rice cake, then.”

“I do. The ones with strawberries and chocolate on the inside.”

Yoongi closes the door behind you, then writes something down below the underlined rubric ‘Rule Number IV’. You don’t want to say anything about it. Now he even takes notes about your habits.

There’s loud chatter in the staircase now.

“Okay, so, innovations department is first. Curious. Quite lively around here.”

From the group of staff entering the corridor, a lady in a red suit and black wavy hair separates into your direction. Her smile is brighter than ever, particularly when she sees Yoongi looking all professional with his notepad and the most creaseless shirt in the entire company.

“Hey sweethearts! The new secretary?”

She blinks, earning your nod.

“Yes, just joined us.”

“Min Yoongi,” he retorts. “And you are?”

The lady’s eye smile lingers.

“Kim Hyuna, Development.”

“Oh, that’s where we’re headed.”

“Great, just come along in a minute! Whole team could use someone handsome to look at. Y/N, the file?”

“Yes, the new blueprints,” you hand over the orange folder, brow knit. Hyuna browses through the pages with her usual sound effects. Yoongi takes notes.

“Oh, this pretty design. Mh, an algorithm. Okay, okay. Ah. And this is the script we need. Wow, top secret, even! Look at this, so brilliant,” she turns the page to Yoongi now, then looks at you. “Hey, Y/N, you don’t seem alright, what’s wrong?”

Your eyes and ears might as well implode. Jimin was right with your bad temper. But it’s not like everyone in this building would give you a solid reason for it. A rice cake doesn’t sound so bad right now.

“Read it later, Hyuna,” you tip the cover of the orange folder over until it closes before her eyes. “I just want to show Yoongi around in the corridors and get to know each other. But I think we should start with the cafet—”

“Come on, you two lovebirds,” Hyuna flounces down the hallway now, orange folder resting laxly on her left forearm crossed before her chest. “Probably a good thing Jin went to Gwangju.”

The words are like a slap in the face. You can already feel your heart beat five times as fast.

Yoongi looks up from his notes to look at you.

“Jin?”

“My... former secretary.”

On top of a rice cake, you probably need to refresh your deodorant if this goes on. Hyuna opens the door to the development office with a cackle.

“Was off limits for her, frustrated the entire department, but you don’t have a wedding ring, do ya? No offense, you look good.”

Yoongi shakes his head.

“I’m not, not married, uh—”

“I already love this,” Hyuna says, then shouts into the office where about ten busy staff members type and pin things to the wall where sketches and algorithms are drawn all over the place. “Look at that, she finally got herself a boy toy, hah! About time!”

Applause from all corners of the room.

Maybe taking him on a tour through the building to buy time backfired not just once, but two times.

Yoongi has to leave earlier. The fifty minutes he arrived before the actual morning appointment, minus ten or fifteen that you spent in the subterranean, pay off now. He glances at Jin’s wall certificates a couple of times while packing his briefcase. His suit is more clean and well-fitted than ever. Yoongi tosses the wrapping into the bin and picks up his jacket again. He looks at the umbrella, then back to your office, suit case in his right hand and notepad safely stored inside.

“Great time working with you,” he says.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“Always part with good words,” Yoongi bows. “And, don’t work for too long.” You realize that he just quoted page 50 from the Golden Book, hoping he doesn’t notice your desperate want to stress-eat all the remaining cream cookies. “That complements what I wrote in Rule Number V.”

“Our books might not be so different, after all.”

“We enjoy the same cookies. No surprise to me.”

A charismatic, winning smile follows. One knowledgeable about the accolades listed in the front pages of the Six Rules webpage. One knowledgeable that a Mercedes waits for him. One knowledgeable of how insufferable you find him, but can’t do anything, just anything, about that because he’s secured himself that secretary room like a tick on a patch of skin. And you can’t scratch him off without risking parts of him getting stuck in this enterprise even deeper.

He turns toward the door after a 90° bow. More a butler than secretary, you think, uttering a mumbled goodbye formulaic and as meaningful as a piece of toast. The key card bleeps.

“See you then.”

So casual. And he’s out the door.

A fourth cup of coffee is deeply needed now. Even if your hands are jittery. Think, think back to how this all started. Your brain is absolutely blank. What holds you back from firing him right on the spot?

What damage control task Yoongi gets tomorrow is certainly not dependent on the printer in Jimin’s office that gets important assignments from any other department on the hallway. And not on Kim Hyuna’s orange file. Nor Kim Taehyung. Generally speaking — after knowing Jimin’s recent canticle about every other enterprise in town except SeoulTec, you plan to thwart his undertakings on top of Yoongi’s, drastically so. His dedication is elsewhere. Yes, he caused this. The nineteen bogus files had an ulterior motive and weren’t selected according to the guidelines at all. Jimin stepped on all principles of fairness, he probably threw away the other good applications right away. Elsewhere he must go. Yongsang Digital could need an HR manager. Not now. Yoongi is first.

Neither Namjoon’s email nor phone react. You go to HR again where Jimin, staying late as usual while there’s virtually no one else on the corridor, says he has word he returns in two days. The journey is quite long as is the presentation he’s at. Orbit Five enterprises in Daegu where a new hardware prototype model had been launched. Namjoon gets busy with some press releases next week, but this launch is more important, he has to show attendance, presence. Until then, Yoongi can’t be fired on a solid basis for practically any accusation. But Jimin knows that you came for another question. He coaxes it out of you by imitating the faces you were trying not to pull in the elevator coming back from the subterranean after first meeting Yoongi.

“Oh, Mister Lexcom, such scent!”

“I do have a question on that...”

“Such! Scent!”

He’s caught up in the impression. Talk about professional. You want to deck Yoongi in the face so he flies out the building on the legal basis of tax fraud, but here your HR manager has his fun ridiculing you. Perhaps, truly, there’s nobody ‘professional’ except the cafeteria guys who sell more cakes and snacks than even Taehyung on a bad day can eat.

“Now, really. What’s in his aftershave?”

“Orchid, sandalwood, spice, duh. You dig that, grump? You’re acting weird.”

You’re already on your way out.

“Was nice talking, Park, good to see you.”

“Might be a bottle blonde but I still know the gentleman’s essentials.”

“It’s late, time to sign out,” you shout going down the corridor. Jimin shouts right back.

“Calm your anger issues until tomorrow and just fuck him!”

Spice it is. The third ingredient. What spice exactly? You should have asked. Let’s see if he wears that tomorrow. The aftershave seems to follow you everywhere — even dropping to the subterranean on the elevator again, where you check your emails on the phone. The field where Namjoon’s messages always turn up is still empty.

Instead, a new flagged mail is at the top of the feed. Kim Eonjin, CMO. Here in marketing since 2013, the only person you trusted to fast forward the Code 19 alert to. She writes she advises care for “the matter” and to remember the last meeting you had. Where you got to know the market fluctuates too much to tell, that Yongsang Digital can make the big decisions currently, and not SeoulTec. But a crucial detail and Lexcom could outdo all five competing enterprises in the field with a new software launch. Better than Orbit Five’s, no matter how enthusiastic Namjoon was to see it, which truly meant something — usually. That alone would be all fair and just. But what if that crucial detail came from your office, Yoongi’s keen ears to be precise.

The email attachment has new contents for the blueprint in it, less significant ones, but just about a hundred pages worth of packed information and sketches. Those you make a mental mark to send to the development office. Eonjin is clever. Really clever. She knows that Hyuna works best when there’s a lot to do. Otherwise, she does things like spontaneously proclaiming a dinner date on Friday for Yoongi and you earlier. During lunch break at the cafeteria. Even if she knew that you’d roll your eyes at that and go eat elsewhere in town at Sunmi’s food stall, dragging Yoongi with you knowing that otherwise, the whole IT department seated at the other cafeteria table would deliver him whatever codes in jest. Because they can’t shut up either. Which further prompted Hyuna to announce that you might actually be dating already. Who treats their secretary to Sunmi’s sandwiches on the first day, hah, you lovebirds!

While in reality, Yoongi got an important text and had to drive around the block for a private matter at a place he said was in Hannam. In the meantime, you ranted and cried your eyes out to a strangely customer-less Sunmi for 30 minutes straight, with the rather juicy tomato sandwich she made you almost ruining your suit. If there’s no queue at Sunmi’s, Namjoon is out of office, and Taehyung gives out passwords because he can, a day is truly hell. Except this one flagged email on top of your feed. The elevator is beeping again.

“SUBTERRANEAN.”

You reply an “OK” to Eonjin feeling the need to develop a safety plan with Namjoon. Who knows, the IT department might be a bunch of arrogant pricks, but their work is hard to underestimate and so essential to keep the corporation out of getting into the red. Lexcom is unpredictable, so is Min Yoongi, and you already know he wants to get involved under the guise of being such a secretary mastermind. Maybe it’s a good move to have the enemy up close in the other room. One mistake from Yoongi and you have compelling evidence, Hyuna’s antics aside. You will finally understand why Lexcom did what they did. You’ll get into his head and find out. You close the email inbox, tuck away your phone, and step into the cloud of fuel again.

Where the Mercedes stood after Yoongi’s arrival is now a gap that you do end up staring into for three minutes instead of heading to your own car. You hate realizing how you think about these things so much.

Finally. The paper box with red felt marker on the top lid has been making your mouth water all day. Fried potato starch noodles that Sunmi prepared in a matter of three minutes. You push the container into the microwave where they sizzle and permeate the apartment with a flavor of sesame and soy sauce, then practically fall into in the armchair in your living room. Christie S. Kwon keeps on looking at you strange, but gives off a satisfied meow once you pat and scrub her head multiple times, the neck, too. The cat makes herself at home in the kitchen once content, watching the moon rise at the skyline. She dozes off in a matter of two minutes.

On your lap now rests Six Rules. Already tossed and turned more than Jin could have possibly read it throughout his entire career at SeoulTec.

Again, you start with the introduction text. All sentences as correct as Yoongi’s way of bowing, and his collar. He must be good at ironing. You read through the table in the middle of the page once more, each rule one by one, then go to the chapters where each individual rule is elaborated and exemplified. Chapter six in particular makes you ignore the blip of the microwave where Sunmi’s noodles steam the front window from the inside, making Christie S. Kwon purr in her sleep.

Once you did fetch them from the microwave, they’re already lukewarm. The book is closed, balancing itself on the armrest of the chair while you provide the searchbar on Yoongi’s website with some fodder.

#taxes #lexcom #rule VI #yongsang digital #orbit five #about me #stock market #ceo #notes #basketball #blood types

Much like Christie keeps on mewling in her sleep because the noodles still smell that tasty, you’re not running out of tags any time soon. How to get into his brain if not this way. You memorize everything about the website, and not just the text. The layout, the images, the filing system, the email addresses and contacts, too. If you want to get into his head, you do it properly even if it’s a lot of work. If Yoongi can take notes, so can you.

Hyuna gets her hundred pages tomorrow. Less fuel for her boredom. You, however, will not rest until you regain yours. Min Yoongi, executive assistant, is already making too many waves.

When the noodle bowl is empty and the moon has almost reached its zenith, you upload a final user picture of a typical and inconspicuous Incheon sunrise holiday shot and create a new email address that you enter in the form at the bottom of the page.

Contact: [email protected].

Subscribe to Six Rules Club and get access to unique information!

You click the blue subscribe button.

Taehyung comes along carrying three pastries in a plastic bag and a rucksack. You’re not the only one trying to survive the schedule.

“Not running out today!”

He touts, passing over a flyer after you held the elevator door open for him.

“Which floor?” you ask.

“On my way to the restrooms, five. Need a large stall.”

“Changing suits, huh?”

You point at the rucksack. Taehyung nods.

“New interns are coming, Jimin will be there, too. Need my A-Game.”

He might mess around with passwords, but hard work Taehyung does not shy away from.

“That’s good, and he’s getting busy. But what about this?”

“Take a look, just in.”

The flyer showcases Orbit Five’s new hardware at a glance, all nice in bright colors with detailed descriptions. Taehyung says it was in his lockbox this morning. Someone got it from Namjoon, and someone passed it on to him, and now he passes it on to you. What a giant hassle. It’s about time Namjoon returns to cut the chain of command short. The elevator almost gets to floor five that Taehyung, already fiddling with the rucksack to get his grey suit out, remembers something.

“By the way. Yoongi’s an early bird,” he laughs. “Seen the Mercedes park on the subterranean CCTV like fourty minutes ago.”

“I know, just walked right past it.”

“He’s different, isn’t he.”

“Very much so.”

The elevator doors part, revealing the ‘restrooms’ sign on the opposite wall. Taehyung tips his invisible hat to you.

“See you later ma’am, gotta stun the entourage with my suit.”

“Good luck,” you maintain, but Taehyung already speeds to the right. “Tell Jimin to take care of the interns for me.”

His desk is empty, but the noise from the end of the corridor is all too treacherous. You find Yoongi cramped into Hyuna’s office, surrounded by the IT guys, female interns from the marketing department, and the whole Development team. They sat him down on a desk between a scanner and laminating machine. Even if you thought the coffee from yesterday didn’t really do much, your blood pressure goes straight through the roof of SeoulTec in this very moment.

“Hyuna, everybody, what on earth!”

Yoongi looks rather apologetic, too caught in the middle. He’s in a silky blue suit today.

The marketing interns and IT guys chirp into your ears from all sides.

“Jimin told us that he’s the Min Yoongi!”

“Look at how he’s dressed!”

“You’re too good at hiring.”

You make your way past the mob to the laminating machine trying very hard to keep a straight face.

“Doubt it.”

Hyuna tugs at Yoongi’s tie as a brief retort.

“Really? You got us a rockstar secretary, hah. Need any condoms?”

You pull Yoongi from the desk and guide him toward the door under the jeers of the team.

“No thanks. Yoongi, lock the door when I’m not in the office yet and you arrive early. Lock the door... in general.”

Hyuna yells out loud.

“Ohh! Lock the door, Min Yoongi! Now she got a reason to use her own condoms!”

Thunderous groans and applause. The entire room is laughs. You strike a serious tone.

“What did I write about sexual harassment in the Golden Book.”

“Says the exec who takes her boy toy to Sunmi’s!”

“Do you even understand what sexual harassme—”

Hyuna clicks her tongue while you still speak.

“Oh shut up. Jimin even said you read Yoongi’s book and liked it a lotty dotty lot, hah.”

More laughter.

It’s like a police interrogation. Whatever you say will be used against you. Whoever has control over this enterprise, the CEO in supposed charge it surely is not.

Yoongi looks a little flustered and helpless when you shove him out into the corridor, past the interns who pat his back and blow him kisses.

Too bad you can’t fire every single person in this company. At least they kept Yoongi from being all by himself around your office. Hyuna’s everlasting chaotic nature might not be so bad, after all. But still, you see Yoongi scratch his head seemingly confounded.

“You okay?”

“I mean, I met the employee of the month. And it’s a lively place.”

Ever so diplomatic. You are the one to lock the door with your key card before dropping a pack of old business cards on Yoongi’s desk. That’ll preoccupy him with the contacts archive to fill in.

Sunmi rocks her Doc Martens against the counter, already looking as angry as you do. The pans, pots, and two grills of the stall are turned off except the deep fryer that spins around some fries. Children play in the park, but nobody seems to bother with the generous offer of a couple thousand Won for Japchae, chalked onto a small board by the side of the road with an arrow below, pointing toward the stall.

“We served him everything on a silver plate,” you stir your ramen when Sunmi hands it to you, then add a few spritzes of soy sauce. “Blueprints, codes, prototypes, and a reason to give us bad press just because Hyuna thinks I should fuck him. I’m scared to read tomorrow’s newspaper.”

“Oh fuck, man. You get an extra sandwich to stock up for the afternoon. With extra radish.”

“Sunmi, I pay. Your customers, recently...”

“The queue will come back, don’t worry.”

“I can send you some hungry people from our cafeteria. There are plenty.”

“That’s where they went, aye!” Sunmi giggles into her apron to hide her smile. She doesn’t like her crooked front tooth.

“They’ll come back to you once Seoul Daily sends us reporters asking about a sex scandal. Caused by the damn employee of the month.”

“Ah, Hyuna. All because the fucker Yoongi wrote that book and Jimin fell in love with it.”

“Yeah. That’s how I got those nineteen shit CVs. Jimin might as well have given me just that one application and said ‘hey I want this one just take him’. Like, no illusion of choice, you know.”

“That sucks. What did Yoongi write in his cover letter again?”

“Kind of, everything I wanted to hear. Good crisis management, written communication—”

“No, not that. What did he say about his real motivation to do the job, why he applied?”

“He just said he wanted to be of good service. Something super cheesy.”

“Sounds honorable given that Lexcom might have sent him.”

“I know, yeah.”

“So far your employees sound worse than he actually is. And I don’t get the feeling that he hides stuff. Except the Hannam thing.”

“He looked a bit distressed when he came back from that yesterday.”

“Oh really?”

“But not for too long.”

“Yeah, you told me, he bounced back from this rock star thing as well.”

“Hannam is different, though. He had to really hurry to get there and didn’t want to give any details. Just, none.”

“Really wanna know what goes down there. You know what I’m thinking?”

“Sunmi... he’s the spy, not us. We got into enough trouble already. It’s all exposed. We are the ones embarrassing ourselves. He doesn’t even have to move one finger. At this point, we can’t provoke it anymore.”

“We’re not spies when it’s good ole Sunmi driving around randomly to deliver some glazed chicken and rice, you know.”

“I know that you navigate Seoul very well.”

“And?”

“That makes me worry because you’ll do it.”

“Nothing easier than that, nobody will know I follow him except you.”

“Murphy’s Law ahead.”

“Murphy’s what?”

“Everything that can go wrong will go wrong. Happened in the last two days all over the place.”

“Fuck that law. We go by the Golden Book. And nowhere does it say in there that the sandwich lady can check up on what the secretary does in Hannam to come back weird like that.”

“The Golden Book has Code 20 listed. For stalking. I can’t break my own law there.”

“Code 19, 20, whatever. You said the codex is just in the way since he started and he’s using it against you already.”

“Doesn’t mean I’ll completely disregard it. It’s made from experience. And stalking isn’t cool.”

“But you went through his webpage...”

“Like a normal person who’s interested. I still went by the Golden Book.”

“This situation doesn’t compare. Yoongi’s a very particular case. He needs new rules. And new rules we only get by new trial and error.”

“Sunmi, Hannam is taboo for you. Who knows where he really goes. It could be dangerous. Or think about it, he might not go there again tomorrow.”

“That’s why we should go now!”

“I’d rather have the extra sandwich. Sans mayo.”

“Y/N, you never take any risks! Such a bore!”

“When I take risks and don’t think twice, you know what happens. My signature on a contract with Lexcom’s eyes and ears embodied.”

Sunmi points at you with a ladle from the grill and her most mischievous of grins.

“Hey, at least they come with a silk suit on.”

“That’s true. But a stack of dynamite won’t turn any less dangerous with silver wrapping and a greeting card.”

“Oh man, loosen up. Hyuna, she isn’t very far from the truth. You’re kinda frustrated.”

“But I don’t take Yoongi as my punching bag for that. Even if he wasn’t affiliated with Lexcom.”

“Are you so sure?”

“I’m very sure.”

“Don’t pretend you never wanted to go out with Seokjin. Come on! And who said she wanted to throw hands the other day, punching bag much! Frustration, but denial as a cherry on top, huh.”

The deep fryer turns off. You get out your car keys and zip your jacket tight at the neck. A deep sigh.

“Sunmi, one last question. Should I hire you?”

“Sorry, what?”

“You do start to sound like the people in Hyuna’s office.”

The office door is locked. You pull out your key card, swipe, then enter. Yoongi gives you a sweet smile from his desk, although again, it seems like something has ruffled his feathers.

“About 40% done with the cards,” he types, a few double clicks follow.

“Is that a secretary ethics thing to always arrive early?”

“I mean,” he lets go of the mouse now. “You read the book, right.”

Sure you did. But the pages make your head spin.

“Yeah.”

“It’s courteous, I think. Letting someone wait is the worst thing you could do. And even when your superiors are still busy when you come around, a secretary, by default should be invisible.”

Sort of like Tom Cruise indeed.

“Yoongi, what I mean is that you can enjoy your break. I’ll give you coupons for the green tea cakes if you like, Jimin always hands them to me.”

“I’m really not used to this,” he blinks. “But if that’s your wish I will always enter five minutes after you come back from break.”

“Extra mile, I got that.”

“Extra mile. And thank you for the offer.”

You cram around in the drawers of your desk, then get out five coupons that had amassed over the last few months. Jimin doesn’t like green tea rolls and figures you do. Somehow you are glad that he didn’t get the idea that Taehyung could have a better use for them. Because now, you can get Tom Cruise to sit in the cafeteria.

“The cards in the archive can wait. Take one, make yourself comfortable in the foyer,” you hand him the little vouchers with a silver crane printed in every bottom right edge.

“You mean, I can prolong the break?”

“Of course. I have a meeting on floor two now anyways, won’t be good company.” You already usher him toward the door. “Greet Taehyung and Jimin if you see them walking around with the new interns. You can talk to them if you like.”

His aftershave starts messing with your head when the elevator goes down. You step out into the second floor headed to Eonjin’s office. Yoongi does an awkward tiny wave with the coupon in his hand when the doors close and the elevator drops to the ground floor.

Eonjin practically pulls you into her tiny, dim lit room after you knock.

“Y/N! Is #9828 around?”

She starts tugging at your suit from all sides.

“No, he’s— Hey, what are you doing!”

“Bugging devices,” she mouths, without actually speaking it out loud. She pats around, you turn by 360° until she turns the light up to full brightness. “Seems ok. Your cell phone is also in your office, right?”

You nod.

“Thank you for the hundred blueprints, lifesaver,” you sit down on the sofa opposite Eonjin’s messy desk, located underneath a giant infographic about the 4 Ps of marketing on the wall. Product, price, place, promotion.

“Hyuna will leave you alone when Namjoon returns,” Eonjin fiddles with a shelf now. All orange files. “And Yoongi’s foul play has an end. What’s he doing now?”

You shift back and forth in the sofa’s middle pit where a lot of decisions about SeoulTec had been pondered through the years.

“Triple threat. I sent him down to Front of House for cake, interns, and chatty Taehyung.”

“He’ll be preoccupied.”

“Backfired the last few times I tried this. At least he’s not in the office. He’s always there early.”

“Really, check your devices. Could be any type of sabotage. Smart phone in particular, it’s portable. Did he behave suspiciously so far? Saw him enter your office yesterday in passing, but I didn’t see much more.”

“He’s kind of overly formal and odd I guess. Increasingly so. He says things about being invisible and whatnot. And he drives to Hannam during lunch break but won’t say why, and comes back exhausted. All the work he does is super pedantic. He keeps taking notes about the most trivial stuff. It’s creepy. His website has a lot of talk about Switzerland and taxes on it. I signed up there.”

“What!”

“With a fake profile and blocked IP, and I didn’t do much on there. I just looked at tags and some entries that he wrote when he first made the website.”

“Was there something about Lexcom?”

“Nothing.”

“Be careful subscribing to that site, I’m telling you.”

“I’m not doing anything extraneous. And Yoongi isn’t too active on there.”

“He’s been marketing the shit out of that book, didn’t he?”

“So successfully that everyone in here has read it by the end of May.”

“Genius secretary you say.”

“Yes, that’s his moniker.”

“What a hot air balloon. Sucks that Namjoon won’t reply, I just wonder what the hell is going on in Daegu. I mean they launch the latest hardware idea and he can’t even get proper wifi? Even his private number seems perpetually blocked!”

“If he’s somewhere strapped to a chair at Hannam and Yoongi’s henchmen put a gun to his head...”

“You think he’d resort to such a method?”

“Wouldn’t exclude it. Yoongi’s politeness schtick doesn’t mean anything. Did you check Namjoon’s social media activity already?”

“Yeah. He didn’t post anything recently.”

“Then that’s more than suspicious. A Communications Officer without any tweets?”

“Yeah, we gotta do something.”

Sunmi’s ash grey Honda sounds like a smoke-burping dragon going down Hannam Bridge. The sky is clear. You’ve insisted that the Celine Dion playlist starts to get annoying at least three times yelling from the backseat, but Sunmi keeps on shaking her head and turns up the volume a bit more each time.

“It’ll make us look and sound casual. We’re just delivering some chicken, remember. Bitch, this is the Sunmi express!”

“Oh gosh, just stop swearing like that,” Eonjin complains from the passenger seat, still hiding behind a rather crease-laden map that was likely considered recent back in 1982. “Y/N, how the fuck did you two even meet?”

“You just swore yourself!” Sunmi laughs and stomps on the accelerator. Eonjin looks indignant.

“No, really!”

“I don’t know, even CEOs get an empty stomach?” you shrug, adjusting your shades and the extra large hoodie Eonjin gave you before departing from her office. The huge box of chicken resting across your thighs is way too hot to handle. You already hate this.

Sunmi keeps tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to the intonation of Celine Dion’s dramatic falsetto blaring from the speakers, backed up by heavy percussions.

“Y/N likes very spicy sandwiches. And nobody does 'em like I do in Seoul. Even her cat gets my food sometimes. Special edition!”

Eonjin buries her face in the Itaewon district on the map.

“Ah, I see, uh. Question answered.”

Celine Dion hits a perfect high note when the Honda exits the bridge. The cafeteria with Taehyung, Jimin, Hyuna, the chatty interns, and a couple greasy IT guys at full throttle about their god complex at the neighboring table is now but a distant, yet much-cherished dream.

The license plate of Yoongi's black CLS before you vanishes on the left behind the first block of toplofty skyscrapers when Eonjin pulls out a bag of crisps for 128₩ from her jacket. You can’t believe your own eyes.

“What are you doing!”

“Can’t use my 4 Ps of Marketing here. We’re out of office. Sunmi is right.”

“Right about what?”

“Oh, well.”

The bag pops open while Sunmi already twirls the steering wheel to the left, causing an abrupt turn. You hold on tight to the box of chicken while your seat belt does the rest until the chassis balances and Yoongi’s sleek Mercedes shifts into sight again on the main street. You sigh, push the shades further up your nose bridge. The things you do for Namjoon.

Even now, the Honda continues to burp and rattle to the sound of the orchestra whose impetus seemingly presses you against the backseat through its sheer ostentation, while in reality, it is the speed of the car.

“Ladies, I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What I meant by Sunmi is right was, we gotta look natural,” Eonjin says, shoving two potato crisps into her mouth at once. “We’re just delivering a box for Mister M.Y.G. and fuck him up. Want some? They’re really crunchy.”

“Not in the mood, I’m sorry.”

Sunmi turns down the volume at least one bit.

“Yoongi is the real snack we’re after anyways. I got so curious how he looks like.”

“You won’t be so curious anymore if we see him walk into a mob boss mansion in a minute,” you mumble into your hoodie.

“The usual pessimist,” Sunmi darts a quick glance across her shoulder to face the back seat, and chuckles. “And you’re not even the one with everything to lose.”

Eonjin looks as confused as you are.

“Sunmi, what do you mean?”

The music stops. Her finger stays on the pause button.

“My customers. They don’t seem to come back recently.”

“Oh...”

“Maybe it’s Wang’s new restaurant at the end of the street that opened last week. Their food is good. They don’t have sandwiches, but a lot of staff. I was happy when you showed up with Eonjin at my stall today. Takes my mind off things, we can have some fun.”

You reach your hands out to the driver’s seat, and rest them on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry for that, Sunmi. That sucks big time.”

Eonjin puts down her map.

“Hey, why doesn’t anybody pull a huge marketing stunt for these sandwiches? I mean Y/N eats them every day!”

Sunmi is the one shrugging now.

“Nah. I’ve tried everything, really. If we get caught up in a scandal here they might sell again. Ya-hey!”

The Honda goes on burping and bumping music two skyscrapers later. Nobody in the rusty car really bothers looking at the black Mercedes driving in the parallel alley. Celine Dion is at full blast now. You have to scream against the ariose and pompous voice and orchestra.

“Sunmi, listen. You can start at our cafeteria any time!”

Eonjin loudly agrees.

“Yeah why not!”

But Sunmi doesn’t reply. Instead, the whole car comes to an abrupt stop. The seatbelt digs into your chest. You can’t breathe. Once the breaks kick in, both Eonjin and you slam back into your seats.

“Sunmi!”

“Shit!”

“What happened!”

“There was, someone crossed, the road, fuck!”

Eonjin cries out.

“Did we hit them?”

“No, but...!”

For one moment, you see nothing. No orientation. The seatbelt relaxes around your chest again. Your breath goes fast, but it’s back. Then, a wild knock against your window.

Shock.

The voice is all too familiar.

Sunmi pushes the pause button almost automatically. She's dead-eyed. Silence. And then—

“You fuckass pricks, I just got a new bag! What are you doing, hah? What's going on! Reckless driving motherfuckers! Who do you think you are, Honda twats! You're fucking ugly! Speeding through Hannam like dumb shits with the volume up!”

Hyuna’s bright red grimace of anger appears up close when you operate the crank to bring down the window. You take off your glasses for her to recognize you. Her eyes go wide.

She stumbles backwards.

“What! Sweetheart, you?! And, Eonjin?”

“Get, get in the car, Hyuna. Fast.”

You size her up head to toe. She seems alright. She didn’t fall. Sunmi successfully evaded her. Other cars behind you are already honking. You still feel so dizzy.

“Oh, okay, uh!”

You open the door, grab her shopping bags, and stuff them under the driver’s seat from behind. Hyuna climbs over your lap to the other side of the back seat, pulls her seatbelt down.

Eonjin sighs out, picking up the map she dropped.

“Hyuna, what the fuck! Use the traffic lights to cross the road!”

“I can’t walk there, I just had to carry a lot, goddammit! I had a good time shopping!”

Sunmi, eyes still wide in panic, looks back at you, then Eonjin, then Hyuna.

“It’s the Kim Hyuna?! From your office, Y/N?”

“Yes, you idiot!” Hyuna promptly replies, stifling your voice before you can even raise it. “Are you Y/N’s chauffeur or what! You need to quit your job, hah!”

“Me, an idiot?!”

“Calm down now!” Eonjin grits. “Hyuna. This is Sunmi from the sandwich stall!”

More silence. Hyuna’s jaw drops.

“Are you kidding me!”

“We explain that in a minute. Sunmi, get going. We’re losing Yoongi. We gotta hurry.”

“Losing Yoongi? Sunmi driving? What’s going on here!”

Even now, Hyuna still wildly gesticulates around. You need to dodge her arms about three times. Sunmi restarts the engine. In about half a minute, the Honda rattles down the alley twice as fast now.

“Hyuna, listen. We suspect that Yoongi has some shady business going on,” you crank up your window again. “Something with Lexcom. He always drives to Hannam for something.”

“Really now? Lexcom?”

“Namjoon sent us Code 19 for Yoongi.”

“Yoongi? He’s a fucking spy?!”

“Looks like it. Namjoon’s social media went dead since he got hired. It's all very weird.”

“Huh, I thought Namjoon is in Daegu? With the prototype thing?”

“We’re not so sure about that anymore.”

“So, Namjoon thinks Yoongi spies on us for Lexcom. And you get into Sunmi's car to find him on lunch break, but instead! You try to run me over, what the heck— I thought you make good sandwiches and mind your own business! Clown.”

The Honda goes even faster. The polished Hannam apartments blur outside your window. You were wrong about Lee “Leadfoot” Sunmi being a decent driver.

“I’m not a clown! You were the one crossing the street from a dead angle! And I heard you’ve been on some bullshit in the office, too!”

Eonjin deliberately presses the play button.

Celine Dion’s ginormously loud and emotional outcry about how her heart will go on interrupts the conversation. After two seconds, Eonjin shuts down the CD player completely.

“Do I have your attention now?” she grumbles. “Stop fighting. The only clown in this game is still Yoongi. He got us into that mess. While we were arguing, he parked his car over there.”

She points toward a tower-like building at the far end of the street.

“Eonjin, my ears!” Hyuna just keeps on whining. "Celine Dion, what?"

You shush Hyuna with a quick hand gesture.

“Wait a minute, Eonjin! Yoongi parked?”

Sunmi slows down the Honda. She checks twice whether the music is actually turned off now.

Now it’s your jaw that drops virtually into the subterranean if it were actually below you.

The building where the Mercedes stands has a bright yellow sign at its very top. You recognize the lettering almost right away.

Yongsang Digital headquarters.

And at the entrance: The tall silhouette of Kim Namjoon.

“Four gals on a fucking trip, hah!”

“Quiet, Hyuna. Only Sunmi should be visible! They have their CCTV everywhere.”

Eonjin rustles behind the map, peering across the upper part just enough to observe the entrance.

“We’re not breaking in or something, calm down,” Hyuna wails in return. “Just want something to happen!”

“They just walked in like three minutes ago,” you murmur into your hoodie, then pass Sunmi the paper box of chicken from your lap. It’s kind of lukewarm already, as are your thighs. It’s a miracle that the container survived the heavy brake earlier with just a kinked upper corner. On the top lid, a name field with red felt marker scribbled right across in Sunmi’s typcial convoluted handwriting.

Cruise Chicken Delivery Service Itaewon. Fresh and red hot! For M.Y.G.

The Honda, even though its engine is turned off and the hand brake is on, rattles back and forth when the driver’s door pops open. The car still didn’t recover from the race through Hannam. You wonder whether it will even start again later.

“Thanks. Just stay wherever you are. And check your phone, Y/N,” Sunmi whispers, making sure her apron and cap sit right, and her name tag is horizontal before crossing the road.

While Hyuna tries to suppress her “yes, fuck it up!” cheers, both Eonjin and you look at each other like Jimin just singlehandedly hired CEO Jeon from Lexcom himself.

You're all too familiar with wrong decisions and regret.

And now that.

Sunmi casually struts toward the entrance, snapping her fingers, and moving to the nonexistent beat of Celine Dion’s I’m Alive that made the speakers burst when you went down Hannam bridge earlier.

“She’s the right kind of person to do this,” Hyuna snickers into her fist. “Just look at her.”

You want to crawl under the driver’s seat and pretend to be one of Hyuna’s new bags.

“She said we need new rules. Guess I have to abolish Code 19 and 20 altogether.”

“Come on, Y/N. Cruise Chicken Service from Itaewon is just delivering something! Only another day in the fast food business. Relax, hah.”

“We can get into serious trouble though,” Eonjin cowers down. “And Namjoon messing around at Yongsang Digital is not good at all either.”

“Yeah, he lied about being in Daegu. And they shook hands and smiled, I saw that. Namjoon was in his best suit. He had his bling bling watch on, you can see that shit from a mile away. And, look.”

You point at Yoongi’s Mercedes. Namjoon’s BMW parks right next to it, door to door.

Hyuna peeks outside her window from below.

“Snug, aren’t they. Becomes more intense with every minute, hah.”

You fiddle with your smartphone under the sharp eyes of Eonjin, going through both your emails, chats, and other messages. You hope that Sunmi typed in your number correctly. It was all in a hurry. You hate improvising.

“Any vital signs?” Eonjin asks, then ogles the BMW again.

“None yet.”

“Ah, probably a good sign, hm,” Hyuna flashes a smile. “None of them actually know her. The delivery thing is genius.”

You disagree.

“Should have called the police. Should call them now. Something is terribly wrong about Yoongi and Namjoon messing around at Yongsang. We only went for this because we thought Namjoon was in actual danger...”

“Police ain’t needed. The only thing—”

Your phone buzzes. Hyuna starts screaming.

“Oh gosh, oh gosh!”

Eonjin reaches her palm to the backseat to cover Hyuna's mouth.

“Don't yell! Open the message, Y/N, quick!”

Your nervous fingers need three taps until they activate the little window on the screen.

Comin’. Stay down. — S

Hyuna can’t stifle her second scream either even if Eonjin tries her very best to contain her.

“Sunmi made it!”

“Hush!”

You leave the message window open but duck down even more.

Eonjin gasps into her map herself when the doors of the building swing open.

Sunmi casually walks out with Namjoon on her left and Yoongi on her right. Both men head towards their cars. You can see that Yoongi carries the chicken box, half open.

The Mercedes reverses out of its parking space, first. Smooth and elegant. When Sunmi struts toward the Honda, snapping fingers, the BMW’s window winds down and Namjoon, sunglasses on and laxly steering the wheel, makes a short departing gesture. Sunmi tips her hat, then gets into the Honda's driver’s seat, wordlessly turns the keys, shifts gear.

“Jesus Christ, Sunmi, what happened?!” Hyuna pokes her arm.

Sunmi hands you her phone.

“Stay down until we’re out of the CCTV range. Click on the video. Explains everything.”

The engine takes four trials until it crackles again. Then, the Honda follows the BMW and he Mercedes downtown.

You press play on the video. A shaky view through a thin corridor appears. An edge of the chicken container shakes back and forth at the lower end of the frame. It’s Sunmi walking towards a room. The camera turns dark when she stuffs it into her apron. But the audio is still on. Two men are whispering from the side, or wherever Sunmi walks. You recognize them without a doubt. The voices are Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s. The camera stops shaking. Sunmi stays still.

“It’s just the way I thought,” Namjoon says. “Same shit, different company. Fed up. I can't do this any longer.”

“Do you think warning Y/N is a good idea already?”

Yoongi’s voice is even more hushed.

“We have concrete evidence. I think we should go for it. This is dangerous. And we can only pretend for so long. They’ll find out we’re from SeoulTec soon enough. You might be, but I’m not the most believable shareholder.”

“I don’t trust this either. Hoseok gave us an offer way too early. That's fucking strange!”

“Because he has to launch the software fast, he has no time. Hyuna and Eonjin are already busy finalizing the blueprints. Yongsang can’t wait. They have to use them first. We were the best and only opportunity for him.”

“I can’t believe that Hoseok managed to hack the innovations team.”

“We should have been more careful with the blueprints. Hoseok has already started using the codes, did you see that?”

“You mean, the presentation?”

Yoongi sounds confused.

“Yeah, you could tell they took basically everything Hyuna worked on and made it their own.”

“Sorry, missed that. I was too busy pretending I care about stocks. Hoseok has a keen eye, he’s asked me a couple detailed questions yesterday, I’m still sweating. If I blow our cover this is going downhill. We're so close.”

“The only thing that’s important is that I keep my social media clean of anything. They could hack into it within a minute.”

“But you did send Y/N the warning and Yongsang’s postcode, didn’t you, Joon? #9828.”

“Yes, but I couldn’t write anything else.”

“No wonder she’s not been doing anything about it yet. She misunderstood.”

“I guess— Damn, time is running out. Half past already.”

“Ditch that coffee, we need to get out of this kitchen.”

Rustling. Steps. The camera shakes even more. Loud commotion. It sounds like people bumping into each other. Yoongi sounds like he’s having a heart attack.

“Who, who are you!”

“Shut it! I’m Y/N’s friend! Sunmi!”

“Sunmi?! From downtown?”

“She sent me to look for Namjoon, we’re outside with Eonjin and Hyuna!”

“What!”

Yoongi still keeps his voice low, but you can tell the panic in his tone.

“Back to the kitchen! Come! There’s no CCTV in there!”

More rustling.

“Aren’t you from the sandwich stall Y/N always goes to? And why the chicken?”

“Yes, that’s how we planned to get in.”

“What did you just hear when we talked, Sunmi?”

“The whole conversation.”

“We need to get out of here.”

“But we still have to say goodbye to Hoseok, shit.”

“Hoseok?”

“That’s Yongsang’s CEO!”

“You fuckers look like a million bucks right now, come on! I give you the chicken, we walk out of here together like nothing happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at this box. We wrote ‘for Min Yoongi’ on it. This will look like you just guys ordered some food for lunch. Take the container and start eating! Where is this guy Hoseok’s office?”

“Third floor, it’s made out of fucking glass.”

“You walk past like you have to attend a meeting elsewhere, wave goodbye from a distance, and just munch. I take the staircase in the meantime. We meet at the reception, like ‘by chance’. And then exit the building, all three. Easy business. Y/N is still waiting outside, we’re in a delivery car.”

“Okay, we just pretend we all part ways first when we’re in the car. There’s CCTV outside.”

“And then we meet at my food stall together. It’s close to this new restaurant, Wang’s.”

"Oh man! Are you sure that all of that works?"

"Take the box, fucker. Go."

After a few more seconds, the video ends. No more storage left says a little flag at the bottom.

The deep fryer is working overtime. Eonjiin made sure everyone has their smartphones turned off. She made Namjoon and Yoongi check their suits for bugging devices thrice.

Sunmi, albeit barely concentrated on her work, stacks sandwich after sandwich together while everyone comes together at the counter. It’s pure mayhem until Namjoon gathers his words. He’s still shaking.

“I sent Yoongi to work for Lexcom four years ago. To find out what they’re doing,” he begins. “And this week, I made Jimin hire him to become your secretary, Y/N. While we both went to Yongsang Digital under the guise of being their new shareholders, simultaneously. That’s why we turned up with our best suits, the expansive watches, parked the cars right before the Yongsang building. So they would think we’re the richest blowhards around.”

“What! What do you mean! What was that for! Hah?”

Hyuna is redder than her suit and keeps on tugging at Namjoon's shirt. The sausages on Sunmi's grill start to look jet black because she doesn't turn them. Namjoon's voice becomes even more frail.

“Calm, please, stay calm. B-both times. I suspected they were trying to mess with our company. In the first case, I sent Yoongi because I knew that a scam was going on at Lexcom. It was too late, they already made the tax fraud allegation against us, and they launched the stolen product that we had been working on. This time, with Yongsang, I had to be faster and go there myself. I didn't want to make the same mistake. Of course I lied about being in Daegu. I was busy gathering information from how Hoseok was hacking into Hyuna’s database. Yongsang Digital has been doing the same thing as Lexcom four years ago. They stole shit from us. So I went undercover.”

“So that’s why you said your social media went dead...”

“Yeah. You didn’t understand the email I sent you?”

“No, I thought the postcode was Yoongi’s applicant number.”

“Oh fuck...”

Yoongi buries his head in the napkin Sunmi had handed him a minute ago.

“So— you thought I was spying on you?”

“Yeah, all the time. I thought you were doing some horseshit with Lexcom. And that you kidnapped Namjoon. That’s why I sent Sunmi to find and observe you.”

Hyuna builds herself up in front of Yoongi and pushes his chest now.

"Yeah! We were fucking worried! All because you two couldn't get your number right in that email? Shame on you! I almost died!"

"Hyuna, what?"

"Sunmi was speeding down Hannam lane like a maniac and almost knocked me over after I walked out of a boutique!"

Namjoon knocks his head against the stall counter now.

"What... have I done."

Yoongi wipes his forehead with the napkin now, and Hyuna lets go of him.

“I can’t believe it. Hoseok spies on us and steals codes, Namjoon and I spy on him in return, and you spy on us pretending to be a chicken delivery racecar driver. This industry is nuts.”

“We didn’t pretend! I’m actually a food delivery,” Sunmi pouts right away.

“But you made up another name, didn’t you. Cruise, uh, Delivery Service or something.”

“That was just a detail. You two jackasses, you pretended to be some loaded as fuck stock owners from the Wall Street! You were eating caramel cookies in Yongsang's designer break room! I thought vigilante justice is less luxurious!”

Yoongi looks mortified.

“Jackasses? We did it to protect Y/N’s business from another bankruptcy, all we have to do is alert authorities and they will jail Hoseok and his hackers! Namjoon and I tried to fit in there, that's all that was.”

You put down your sandwich and point at Namjoon with narrow eyes now.

“Hey, are you sure that they won’t accuse you of espionage yourself? You didn’t get into Yongsang through legal means, did you?”

“Ahm, we just walked in and said we’re interested in stocks after Hoseok’s product launches. I mean, Yoongi actually has stocks in Switzerland! That the product is made from a code that Hyuna made? Hoseok pretty much told us himself, we didn’t have to do anything!”

“Yeah. He invited Namjoon and me for his short presentations. And we saw that most of the software design had SeoulTec written all over it. Hoseok is too arrogant not to keep it a secret. Anybody who would have walked in there as a guest listener would have found out that he stole the codes!”

“If that guest listener knew what we develop here,” you raise a brow at Yoongi now.

“We’re 'stockholders', we know how each software company works.”

“Thanks to that, we have an issue with the police. One glance into their data bank and they will know Yoongi works as my new secretary, and Namjoon as our CCO. We fucking trapped ourselves.”

“Wait a second,” Eonjin puts down her fries. “If I can detect evidence on my PC that they hacked us, I can be the one who reports them. The police will never know about the stockholder thing when Namjoon and Yoongi retreat from Yongsang Digital without a trace. I mean, you used different identities, right? How did you get to know each other, anyways?”

"Same basketball team in high school," Namjoon clasps his hands. "I kept up with Yoongi for years during our business majors. We even made a start-up once, that was auditing. Ten years ago, but it failed. Then I found out about Lexcom's scam when I was already working at SeoulTec. Sort of by chance. So I called him up again, and suggested that he should go to Lexcom to investigate. Yoongi was a rising secretary at the time, he just came to Korea from his time abroad in Switzerland. Of course, Lexcom hired him. And for the identities we had for the stakeholders make believe — We were a bit, say inspired by the initials of our pets. Ryan and Holly."

You have to bite your tongue at that. Christie S. Kwon dot fucking com.

“And yeah," Yoongi puts down his napkin. "We used fake IDs. Namjoon called himself Mister R. from New York and I was Mister H. from California. They didn’t even ask about anything else, I just flashed them my Switzerland stocks on a tablet, the car, how I worked at Lexcom four years ago, and Hoseok already asked us to join. He was easy to persuade. He offered us the stocks. They thought we wouldn’t know about SeoulTec’s innovations because we supposedly came from the states. They just rolled the presentation and bragged about their stolen software to impress us.”

Hyuna rolls her eyes.

“So much about legal. You really went in with fake IDs? You're both a fucking mess. But, how unprofessional can Yongsang Digital be!”

"Better than actual theft. I mean, we just showed them my stocks, watched a presentation, and put on an American accent. We didn't have bad intentions, it was just a reaction to when Namjoon spotted malware in the system last week. We knew someone was extracting our blueprints. But we couldn't prove it was from Yongsang yet. So we decided to take matters in our own hands. That's why I showed up at peculiar times in the secretary office, too. We were just demonstrating interest in Hoseok's stocks, nothing wrong with that."

For some reason, that, too reminds you of Sunmi's motto. Well, well! We're just delivering. Fresh and red hot!

“At least that’s good,” Eonjin says, “that you didn't use your own names. We can work with that. I say, we focus on how I found out how they stole the codes, and send you two on vacation while the investigations are running. We need proof for the malware, too. Then we're good to go.”

“True. It shouldn’t be too difficult to find evidence about what they stole,” Hyuna munches away at her sandwich. “The base code will probably be damaged in some parts where they attacked and extracted files.”

Namjoon nods at that.

“We know exactly which blueprints they used, too. When Hyuna can prove that her email inbox was leaked, and which ones of the top secret blueprints were stolen, Yongsang will get fined and Hoseok will be put on trial for being the fraud he is.”

Hyuna’s angry red cheeks turn back when she hears that.

“My inbox, too? Fuck 'em! And when do the Yongsang scammers plan to launch my software, then?!”

“In about two weeks,” Namjoon rubs the back of his neck. “That’s a month before we want to bring our prototype on the market. We also have information about how Yongsang cartelizes with Lexcom to make it a successful launch.”

Another collective jaw drop. The sausages are already starting to turn into coal, emitting pitch black smoke. Even Sunmi puts down her ladle. You are the first to say just about anything.

“You’re only saying that now?! They work together? Joon, don’t fuck with me. What on earth is going on. What is Lexcom doing!”

"I know. It further complicates things. That could be the lawsuit of the century," Namjoon cracks his knuckles, bites his lower lip. No eye contact.

“They’ll just fix the price," Yoongi adds. "Yongsang's profits will skyrocket. Probably into several trillion Won. They have the industry in their hands now.”

The memory comes back. Your mother, with the newspaper in her hands. Crying. The reputation of years, the trust from clients, all gone in one day. You knew exactly why Namjoon did not mention a single word about hiring Yoongi.

Now you're the one to get red in the face.

“With our fucking product!”

“Yeah, Y/N. It's kind of a dilemma. And we don't have much time left." Yoongi stirs in his fries with a sigh. "I thought we could do this more, I mean, discretely. I need a giant cup of herbal tea."

"I just can't believe it," you reply. "Yongsang stole our blueprints and cartelizes with Lexcom. Where do we even start.”

"At least it's not too late. But we have to do something about both enterprises."

"And I'm, sorry," Namjoon adds. "We should have figured that the postcode was the same as Yoongi's applicant number. You should have known earlier."

That’s what Jimin meant by leaving your boxing gloves in the ring. This is the ring. It was never Yoongi. Not one second. He was the good guy, and Jimin never lied. He was the one who gathered all the information about the tax allegation, too, in order to warn Namjoon four years ago. Maybe there was hope.

"Don't be," you say. "It was an unlucky coincidence. And you had to stay in the shadows about it anyways. Otherwise, Yongsang would have known. I mean, and we still have to be careful."

Hyuna brings her fist down on the counter, almost knocking over the mayo.

"These fucks!"

Eonjin nods. She's chewing at her nails now.

"That's surveillance for you. If it was only Yongsang's hacking, we could alert the police. But with a whole cartel. It'll be tough. We're already neck deep in trouble ourselves. We're not any better. Cruise Delivery Service fucked up."

"Then we can't do worse, can we?" Hyuna asks.

Eonjin wraps her hair around her head twice to cover her face. Her head limps down, and not even Namjoon's pat on her shoulder seems to help.

"No, we really can't," she sniffles.

"Then," you take out your phone, "we use our last and best weapon."

"What do you mean?"

"Fuck Murphy's Law. We use it to our advantage. He'll destroy everything."

Sunmi blinks at you, while Yoongi tries to get a glance at the number on your screen.

"Who? Y/N, who?"

The speaker first beeps a few times, then, a cheery voice emerges, next to an avatar with a man smiling impossibly bright on your screen.

"Hey, hey grump! Can I help? By the way, think I found out which aftershave it is, did an actual Google search. And the new interns, oh! They are mighty, mighty fine. Oh yeah. Ask T, he's super in love as well. They were all saying how handsome he is, they got manners. If you still think Yoongi's an ass, you might as well grab yourself one of those. There's about fifteen of 'em. The exact opposite of the IT nerds, can you believe it? That's the HR dream. I don't know how you survive that much stress without fucking anybody to dust. Man, I could use some attention as well. You're so glad, got dozens of cute people on your corridor. Anyway. What did you want to ask, Y/N? How's Christie S. Kwon doing?"

Hyuna taps Eonjin's arm in the background with a cackle.

"He's the right guy for that, just look at him. Sexy, hah."

You only see Jimin's backside when he slips off Namjoon's passenger seat in what possibly are the tightest pants anybody at SeoulTec has ever worn. The passenger door slams shut, as does the driver's where Namjoon just entangled his long legs and stepped out, and you're alone again, with Eonjin and Hyuna giggling to your either side on the back seat. You hear Yoongi's door close just a few seconds afterwards. Then, the entrance door to Yongsang Digital headquarters is cranked open.

The back seat is much broader than the Honda's and super sleek. Even Sunmi, surrounded with a bunch of soda cans, babbling and cracking jokes from the trunk has enough space to stick her head out. Namjoon was right that all four of you should get into the BMW together. While Hyuna bargains with Sunmi to give her one of the cans, Eonjin continuously strokes her hair back, then puts it into a ponytail, takes the scrunchy off again, and starts from the very beginning.

"Nervous, Eon?"

"Well, let's hope Hoseok isn't that heterosexual," she peers through the window, phone in her left hand ready on dial. The windows are gladly darkened, so either of you doesn't have to duck down now. "I pray for the day that I can actually use my 4Ps once. I feel like Tom Cruise and this mission is impossible."

"No guy is hetero when it comes to Jimin," Hyuna wiggles her eyebrows, an open lemonade can in her hand now. "I think even Taemin has a big crush on him."

Sunmi, a brand new 5,000 Won bill rolled together and clamped behind her ear, makes big questioning eyes from behind you.

"Wait, who's Taemin?"

"Works at maintenance," Hyuna explains. "Yesterday, you won't believe it. He tried to fix Jimin's printer even if there was no problem at all. I think he just dropped by to get charmed."

You clear your throat at that.

"Hope keeping track of that didn't make you neglect that task."

Hyuna quickly stiffens her posture and puts her chin up, arms akimbo.

"Y/N. Really? I'm the employee of the month. I got this done in ten minutes. If Jimin lets his eyes sparkle and Yoongi can get the USB stick in the right spot, hah. Then we can open a glass of champagne at Sunmi's in thirty minutes."

"Would love to," Sunmi puts her thumb up. Eonjin keeps on staring at her phone.

"Nothing yet, they've been inside since noon."

"Five minutes almost. They should be in Hoseok's office by now. Operation Gentleman's Essentials begins."

Hyuna almost chokes on her lemonade.

"Oh Lord! That name cracks me the fuck up!"

You shake your head.

"Let's hope the same doesn't apply to Yoongi. I get the feeling that he will lose his cool soon. He's a secretary, not 007. He likes cream cookies, green tea rolls, and Swiss chocolate. I wonder why Namjoon could persuade him to do all these jobs just to save SeoulTec in the first place."

"He might not be James Bond. But Mister Yoongipenny!" Sunmi raises her own soda can. "Don't worry."

Hyuna clinks her nails against the soda can and casts a frivolous gaze toward you.

"You're concerned about him, hah. The crane lady and the secretary rockstar, I see. I give you condoms anytime, that would be the cutest dick ever to hop on. Or wait, this is just a fling, isn't it. After you cool off, maybe you like Sunmi? She's got edgy shoes and a good swagger when she dances!"

"Hyuna, you're inappropriate again. My private endeavors aren't yours to decide. I don't need suggestions when they're that aggressive. I decide for myself."

You try to focus on the entrance of Yongsang Digital. But you know that there is nothing to see anyways.

"Sorry, but your sex life is the only thing that worries me. The entire department. You need something to improve your moods. I'm always half joking, you know... but you always seem so lonely and dissatisfied. Sometimes people need a nudge, ya see. I know what's best for you."

"No. And why do you care about that? You've almost ripped Joon's shirt to shreds and unleashed a mob on Yoongi. I don't know who needs some mood management in here."

"We all do," Eonjin taps around her phone, looking for messages. "Some Swiss chocolate wouldn't be a bad idea right now. And the champagne."

"Yeah, that'll do. My grill needs a bit of cleaning but I can make us some fried tofu noodles, I got kimchi in stock as well. Namjoon was so stressed yesterday, he ate three sandwiches and two bowls of vegetable rice. I didn't have that much revenue in a week."

"Operation Gentleman's Essentials could cause the SeoulTec stock crash of the decade so we need that money," Eonjin exhales. "I can't even think about a marketing campaign to save us with, I don't know, just about any new product. Think we need to ask for the PR department to fix it all up in advance."

"Don't think too much ahead," Hyuna says. "But you're right... this all isn't very healthy."

"Start with the soda cans," you raise your brow, "maybe it's that what makes you wanna mess with my sex life."

"Man, he calls you grump for a reason, Y/N! You're so negative. Can you be any less stubborn?"

"Dissatisfaction is the reason new things are made. Supply and demand. If I wasn't dissatisfied, I'd not be driven. Am a CEO."

Hyuna laughs.

"More like, a cat person."

Eonjin puts down her phone, screen still turned on, but still empty of any commotion.

"She's right about dissatisfaction though. The supply and demand. It's what Lexcom and Yongsang don't see. That's why they have to steal our shit. They're cowards and don't know what customers want."

"I thought the same," you nod, "they also want to skip the process of observing customers. They take our results to skip the efforts. Just to release is earlier and get the money. I think this is more insidious than anything Cruise Delivery Service has ever done."

"If they actually still exist," Sunmi puts down her soda can. "I think we've done our part."

Hyuna goes into pouting mode again.

"Eh. I'm already feeling bored. The boys club is out there doing shit and we hide in a car, hah."

"Waiting for SeoulTec to go bankrupt. And my damn sandwich stall."

You pat Sunmi's arm in return.

"You know what I wanted to say before we almost had the accident? I made up my mind about it."

"Huh?"

"If SeoulTec makes it, Sunmi, you're hired. I mean, it's just a possibility, you don't have to."

"What!"

"You know... it'd be great to have the Sunmi Express Takeaway where the city feels alive. I think a lot of people would enjoy it."

"But, but—"

"Take your stall with you. We have enough space at the entrance. You can do whatever you like there."

"But, doesn't it look shabby? Your building is very modern."

"Don't give a fuck. You can access and use our cafeteria kitchen as well. Front of House will like you, I promise. Taehyung will print out flyers of your menu and hand them out. You don't deserve to be beaten by Wang's kitchen. You need a queue. When your grill is back in good form, of course."

"T—Taehyung? The reception guy you talked about, with the nice suits?"

"Yeah, he's cool. Unless he gives out passwords to potential spies. But that's another story."

"You mean Yoongi, hah? Come on Y/N, he didn't turn out to be the threat you thought he would be."

"I just wonder why he did all of this for Namjoon."

"They're basketball buddies. Didn't they create a start-up, too?"

"Doesn't really explain why they playing their Mister Yoongipenny game by themselves."

"Maybe Namjoon likes you? Maybe he likes Yoongi?"

"Even if either was true. That's not enough of a reason. He even lied about Daegu just to be at Yongsang."

"Whatever drives him, I just hope it won't get in the way with Jimin's big day."

"That, too. Eonjin, is there any message at all?"

"As with Sunmi, that's probably a good sign. None."

"Oh I went through hell in there! I had no time to call. Even my video was bad, I was lucky the phone didn't fall out of my apron!"

Hyuna already disagrees.

"You did a good job, it was all improvised! I wish I could dance like you."

"Hyuna, you did some proper tap-dancing on our last Christmas party in the office, don't complain," Eonjin laughs, for the first time that seems like an eternity.

"That was fun. Maybe that's why they voted me as employee of the month later?"

"In May? That's a delay of several months!"

"I was never good at statistics. Like causation and correlation, hah."

"Not so sure anymore whether what you put on that USB actually helps us," Eonjin says. "What exactly did you make her programme, Y/N?"

Hyuna sulks in her corner now. Employee of the month — devastated.

"In the words of Kim Taehyung," you smile to yourself, "When your opponent is better, all that's left is to sabotage. Hyuna didn't do a bad job, I'm sure. It's not about statistics."

"Oh really, you liked the result?"

Hyuna looks more hopeful now.

"Didn't have all the time in the world to review it, but I thought they were great at first sight. I will when Hoseok wakes up to the biggest stock crash in the history of software."

Sunmi can't believe it.

"All just through one USB stick?!"

"Not really. We rather make use of Hoseok's own shortcomings, he'll sabotage himself. All it needs is a little spark. That's what I made Hyuna programme."

"What shortcomings do you mean?"

"Greed. Arrogance. Impatience," you count each off by a finger. "You'll see what happens. The trick is simple. It's not even classic malware."

"For real?" Hyuna asks.

You affirm.

"Yes. All it does is infuse Hoseok's news feed with fake articles how Lexcom is developing their own software, one with a bigger budget, and it looks strangely like his. Meaning ours, our stolen prototype, but you get what I mean."

"What? You think that works? How is Hoseok going to believe that, hah?"

"That's where Jimin comes in. He plays a filthy rich Silicon Valley innovator working at the enterprise 'Chim Parks' who can present Hoseok a new, improved software."

Sunmi scratches her chin, looking a little lost in the trunk now.

"But, Y/N... that doesn't make any sense!"

"Because it doesn't stop there. Hoseok will not only believe Lexcom stole the same software and now competes against him. Once Jimin presented the Silicon Valley software to him, he will give Hoseok a free trial version in exchange for the stolen prototype data. This trial version happens to be infused with the faulty codes from what, have a guess!"

"Uh... No idea."

"Codes from Namjoon and Yoongi's failed start-up product. We call it Di-On 2.0. That was Jimin's idea."

Sunmi looks completely startled.

"What the fuck!"

"Hoseok will trade us the stolen prototype back hoping that he'll get Jimin's fancy software to compete against Lexcom who supposedly betrayed him. The consequence being that both the cartel gets broken and we get all the data from our prototype back."

"Do you really think Hoseok would trade our software back against Namjoon's?!"

"We made it a free trial so he gets interested. Well, hopefully. But making this trade will increase how much he wants it, but doesn't really have to pay a price. The fake news articles that we feed him with will let Hoseok think the old software is basically worthless since Lexcom is working on it with a bigger budget. Which he can't keep up with. Yongsang's revenue isn't the highest."

"Probably why they're stealing shit in the first place!" Hyuna points out.

"Yes, exactly. So Hoseok will take what he gets now. Jimin sends him Di-On 2.0 from his tablet, make big eyes and raves about how awesome it is..."

"And what about the USB stick, Y/N?"

"That's Yoongi's task. While Namjoon and Yoongi involve Hoseok in conversation in the kitchen before their negotiations start, Yoongi quickly infiltrates Hoseok's office. He just says he has to go to the toilet. But instead, he brings fake news onto Hoseok's PC."

"But, the CCTV!"

"Yoongi will change into janitor standard clothes that he wears under his suit," you explain. "Taemin gave it to him, they are used in every enterprise. So Yoongi can act like he's cleaning Hoseok's office."

"And then he hurries back to the kitchen with his normal clothes back on," Hyuna adds.

"Yes, and he does change in the restrooms."

Sunmi clasps her hands, nervous.

"That takes a long time, ugh."

"Yes. That's why Jimin will unleash his most demonic charm demon during the conversation in the kitchen to buy time. When Jimin starts talking, literally hours can pass. You can't even do anything against it. It's not his forte at SeoulTec. But today it is."

Hyuna puts up a hand for a high five.

"Jimin's gonna talk Hoseok's ears off while Mister Yoongipenny becomes Mister Maintenance and gets the USB in place!"

"That's the plan," you smack your palms together. "With Mister Yoongipenny!"

Sunmi sighs out loud.

"So complicated!"

"Everything can go wrong. But as long as Jimin can convince Hoseok to try and use the shitty start-up codes, we've won."

Sunmi looks even more nervous now.

"But why?"

"Hoseok will be in a hurry to recode the new software for his launch. He can't release the same one as Lexcom when they have more money. It's impossible to fix the price now. He'll realize too late that Di-On 2.0 is so old, it's not compatible with any hardware on the current market."

"In short: We get our prototype software back. While Yongsang releases Di-On not knowing that it's super outdated and whatnot. All while Hoseok thinks Lexcom backstabbed him, and he severs ties between them because of it."

"Meanwhile SeoulTec can sell the software that was hacked and taken from us but we got back because Yoongi is a good cosplayer, Jimin talks a lot, and Namjoon has coded some real bullshit ten years ago that is so bad, it'll make Yongsang's stocks crash."

Eonjin bites into her sleeve not to comment on that, but eventually, still does.

"No PR campaign can save him from that embarrassment."

Footsteps. Besides the ubiquitous typing noise from the secretary room, you can hear Eonjin, Jimin, and Hyuna cackle in the hallway. It takes about five minutes until the chatter dies down and doors click in their locks. Then, eerie silence to your ears that are used to something fairly different.

Earlier in the cafeteria, Namjoon lamented almost endlessly at the neighboring table, then to Sunmi behind the counter about how the 'Three Cackling Musketeers' had simply taken the liberty of using his cherished tablet to monitor today's stocks. It seems to you that they didn't give it back yet, and how would they.

Yoongi keeps on typing with an occasional stop to pick up a cookie from the plate next to him. He looks a little funny with stuffed cheeks because he mindlessly bites off too much at once. Email after email on your screen disappears once you've written the obligatory two liners as a reply each, and the phone comes to rest. You enter the secretary room not so much ill at ease, but with a certain relief in your voice.

"Set. The prototype will be out by Tuesday. You did a good job."

Yoongi swallows, shoves away his notes, closes a few windows on his desktop fast.

"Then what about a break, foyer?" he says.

"Cafeteria's packed, the interns like it there. Must be the new sandwiches or Sunmi's entertaining every customer as usual. But we can finish earlier, actually."

"Oh! And Taehyung must be busy, too? Yeah, sure, Ma'am."

"He is. We can head to the park or something. Three minutes to walk. Downtown isn't too crowded today. If you like."

You pick up your trench coat and bag, the car keys, too. Yoongi swiftly lifts from his chair as well.

"That sounds good. It's a nice place, at the lake. But you don't have to. I know you barely have any free time already. Those were a lot of phone calls earlier."

"You say that as if you were a waste of time and the stocks are more important than my employees. Do you really know whether I think that way, about you?"

"No, uh— Of course not, ma'am," he shakes his head quite vehemently. You tinker with the keys.

"Hyuna often crosses the line. But, I think she was right that I need some more balance."

"More balance?"

Yoongi takes his own fitted coat from the hanger. Bedizen, as always. His suitcase stays next to the desk.

"For private life, and such. And I think the park lake is nice, too."

"We have to sneak out though, I think. Somehow."

"Foyer, you mean. Yeah, we can't go through there. That's a ruckus. Subterranean is better. Don't forget your suitcase."

"Oh, right!" Yoongi takes off his fine blazer to have one layer less, grabs the suitcase. May is being all too moderate. His shirt is in creases underneath. He tries to smooth at least the sleeves. "I'm sorry," he says, "I look a little stressed."

You shake your head.

"Since we got news from the stocks, you're less tense. I don't think you look bad either. You just had no time to iron. Won't make you a bad secretary. You're still up against Joon in the employee of the month poll, aren't you?"

Yoongi laughs a little. His eyes are downcast. Pretty lashes.

"People won't see anyway if you wear the coat," you add, swipe the key card at the door. "Unless you're not wearing it, that is."

The door glides open now. Your tone is unequivocal.

"Is it your wish I won't?"

"If you don't mind to have the creases— for my eyes only."

The corridor is as silent as before. You shut the door with a bleep. Yoongi faces you in earnesty. His eyes are fervid.

"I don't."

"Possibly less."

"Less?"

"I mean less than a shirt for my eyes only."

"Don't mind, either."

"Indeed so?"

"Everything for you, boss."

"You'll have to tell me about the Six Rules in depth."

The elevator ejects you into the subterranean entangled, Yoongi’s shirt is half open. Orbit Electrics knew what they were doing when they made the entire hoist extra slow. You're glad Taehyung and virtually everybody else is busy in the foyer and not going up and down from floor to floor.

Yoongi hums into the kisses so pliantly. He's buttoning down for two inches more. Your hands rest calmly at his neck. The mirror that had given you a good view of his backside has a few streaks on eye level now. The pitfalls of men's hair gel and getting pinned against a shiny surface. But you don't care. The maintenance heading for Jimin’s printer tomorrow always starts their tour scrubbing here, and they don't bother with speculations. The elevator doors are already closing.

“Whose?” Yoongi asks, parting from your lips apace.

“Your car. Wanna see you clean it up later. And drive home with my scent in it.”

“That’s a really good argument. What scent is it going to be, anyways?”

“Whatever you tickle out of me. Secretary job.”

Yoongi can't hide the arrant amusement on his face. At least, he tries to.

“But that’s nothing I could scrub off afterwards with a quiet conscience.”

“Then I’ll see you crawl and climb around in my office instead. Buckets and all.”

“You like when I clean something for you, I'll write that down.”

"Later, Romeo."

The black windows block out the neon gleam from the subterranean lighting on the ceiling. Yoongi, lips locked again, has to fumble for the button thrice until he finds and pushes it. The four lamps of the Mercedes switch on as does the ice blue ambient lighting of the dashboard. Now, the back seat delves into a gleam. To your surprise, the lights even coruscate a little, as if someone lit a candle.

“Comfy,” you retreat, rearrange on his lap.

“We can have music, too.”

“You know what I like.”

Now, your eyes are blithe.

“Rule Number I. Go the extra mile showing respect to a superior. What genre? I have everything.”

“Don’t laugh.”

“Hm?”

“Jazz. Soul. Maybe?”

“Comfy and groovy it is,” he plants a kiss on your collarbone, then bends to the driver's seat to mess around with the touchscreen. A few seconds later, trumpets, bass, and percussion resound. Yoongi gives a testing smile.

“Use Me. Bill Withers, August 1972. B-Side: Let Me In Your Life.”

“Is that supposed to be subliminal?”

“If you want, it will be, Ma’am.”

“Then, can I use you, Min Yoongi?”

“Beg you to.”

He's nestling with his hands around your hip when he slips into the backseat again. You're detangling your hair. He's been an avid kisser.

"What was Rule Number II again."

“Know how to please the senses if I'm not mistaken, boss.”

"That sounds interesting. Are you sure it's not Sex Rules instead of Six Rules?"

"I've pondered it. Glad to interest you very much."

"Pants off, Romeo."

His belt clicks open already.

"Just a second."

And he shoves the hem to his ankles. No way for your eyes to miss his boxers bulging out center. Yoongi notices. You yourself are striping down the elastic of your waistband, and get rid of the trousers in celerity to hop on his crotch.

"Any thighs spare today?"

"By all means, help yourself."

"What's the safeword, Mister?"

"I suggest your blood group."

"Oh, zero. That's good."

"Yes."

"Then we use yours or 'go on'. AB, I mean. Then B is for pause. A is for more."

Your neck is brimming. Yoongi's lips are hot and glossy on it. Between your legs, Yoongi's knee grazes at your pubic bone. Easing forward sends a tingle up your spine. His slimming to the calves while shapely at the thigh where you shove up his boxers with your grinding. It leaves a mess, and your own panties disheveled either way. Yoongi is too busy purling into your skin and lapping at it. Only his thigh muscles react to your movement. They clench and declamp, erratic within the rhythm that your hips gyrate to orienting itself at the cadence of the song until the trumpets abade into silence again. A new tune starts with a silent piano.

"Please the senses, what else is there?"

“Rule Number III. Safer is better,” he murmurs into your hair.

Yoongi's lips are cerise. The bulge at your core is still waxing.

"Not planning on maternity leave either."

Yoongi hums again.

"Sorry, driver's seat."

Reluctantly, you glide off his lap to the side when the piano goes into a forte. Yoongi rummages in the depot of the car dashboard until he draws a magnum packaging out of it. Before he can open the wrapping, you tap his shoulder.

"You know what?"

The tone in your voice seems to sway him pressing the stop button of the music.

"Any concern, Ma'am? We can always stop."

"Just an idea. Fancy a more sophisticated spot for us? We can do something stupid and have fun." You pick the condom from his fingers, nod towards the pedal. "I bet you didn't miss that the subterranean has not just an exit."

"It goes downwards over there, doesn't it."

Yoongi looks toward the direction of your car, parking next to a barred descent to a lower plane. It's a dark area.

"It does. To my personal strongroom."

"That one should be 5-0-6 on the CCTV in your office, isn't it?"

He saw it passing the table where the cookies are led out.

"Nobody else has the footage. I can easily shut it off, too. Same goes for opening the bars. All electronic."

"Rule Number IV. Your bosses' preference will always be worthwhile. Sometimes it's more than just strawberry and chocolate rice cakes."

"Well-remembered. Shall we go?"

Yoongi laughs.

"What would Hyuna say? When out of all people, you are the one to suggest that we can do something fun and stupid, that's a must."

You wave around the condom between to fingers. Yoongi turns the key. The blue lights turn slightly orange now that the engine purrs. He maneuvers the car out of the parking lot, then past your Porsche. You can see how veiny his hands are at the steering wheel. Something must have gotten his blood going.

The Mercedes parks by itself in the empty plateau. You decode the CCTV from your phone, shut it down. Equally, you open the round vault door with a face recognition. Exiting the car, you leave behind your own blouse and Yoongi his boxers, shoes, socks. The only thing you take with you is your phone and the condom. Yoongi has kept his tie on. The rest he stripped off faster than in Yongsang's bathroom. You notice that he's clean-shaven. Not a stubble. Maybe lasered. Maybe waxed. Whatever secretaries do nowadays in their regimen. But you have to redirect your eyes since the door is bleeping. A timer to open within thirty seconds.

"We don't have piano music in there," you turn the door's wheel clockwise. "That's the only thing I don't like."

"I can play the piano."

"You do?"

"Can give you a taste with my fingers."

With a massive boom, the door opens inward, as does the tight grid behind it. You tug Yoongi in, switch on your phone screen for light.

"A taste... Have you seen what's dripping down my thighs already?"

"Doesn't mean there can't be more of it."

"Good argument." You rotate the light switch on the wall until the quadric room brightens into a deep yellow. The door churns back into its round frame. You swipe into your phone to keep the locking bolts retracted as they are. A row of deposit boxes rows up to the ceiling on the left-hand side. "Just need a bed to sit on."

You trace the lockers, counting.

Yoongi smirks.

"I suggest starting with #9828."

He can't be smirking just because it's his number. He's seen you like what you saw stiff against his abdomen.

"The floor's too hard for you. I'm going for something else. I sort until #1000 only anyways, this isn't like Lexcom's vault."

"It soon will be when stocks crash."

You hand Yoongi the condom to roll on, browse the shelves where gold bars are locked in behind glass until you reach the other section of the vault, quick. Behind a grey lattice, cranking to the side, you pick up bank notes, strip off their red paper wrapping, and toss them toward Yoongi.

"Soft enough to get fucked on?"

"Softer than cream," he sticks a bill between his teeth with nonchalant fingers.

"Rascal."

You empty five, six, seven, eight more box contents onto the floor. The room already starts to take up a very different scent. Not of bank notes, but a familiar aftershave. Sandalwood. Without counting, you estimate that there are about 200 Million Won on the floor, Yoongi and his net cash excluded. Both your ankles are already disappearing when you wade toward him, sit down on his chest. The back of Yoongi's head sinks into the paper a little too much for your taste. That's what the tie is for. Pulling at it lifts him ever so slightly towards you, although you realize his Adam's apple doesn't like it. So you loosen the sling. Yoongi's sleek bangs fall out of his face. That's not happened before so far.

"Could be a good ride without a fancy car, could it."

You're tantalizing. Yoongi's chest is hot under your thighs, between them.

"Don't need a fancy car as long as you fancy me."

"Cheesy, aren't you?"

"It's a lifestyle."

"I wanna go for it. Any risks involved?"

"I'll keep your pussy wet."

You gird him closely with the tie once more.

"Quite an ambitious secretary."

"Doesn't mean I won't start slow."

The bills rustle around when Yoongi brings his hand up. The veins have seem to bulk out even more into a blue relief.

"A piano session, I see. You may. Blood group: AB."

Yoongi bites his lower lip. Your eyes glaze over observing him so closely, doing his work. Finger tip after finger tip testing which one fits best on your clit. He's monitoring your reactions after each rub and prod, and he has a lot to see.

Whatever lube issue you ever thought running into, fucking someone after such a long time, has proven itself to be unfounded. It's his thumb that smoothes into you with the most ease. It's slightly broad and angular. It's the best access, while the rest of his fingers can rest on your pubes and massage into it with broad, sweeping circles. You thought he'd be silly about this. He has no intents of retracting his thumb.

You graze his collarbones with a digit almost mindlessly, catching yourself just rock against his hand to get the maximum traction out of it. A bad idea. A good idea. Your body doesn't know. All you feel is the arousal tint your vision and dripping Yoongi's chest with drops of clear fluid.

"Damp day, isn't it," he says. "In Spring."

"I'm looking for some heavy rain."

Yoongi's intonation sounds all the more tempting now.

"Are you testing me?"

"No need to test to know you're a good weatherman."

He increases the frequency of his thumb circling. You can't help but moan along. The vault is too small for it to take up an echo. All you hear is your voice stay up close inside the walls, and only amplifying with his movement. He's too good— for his own good.

You loosen the tie from his neck, to his surprise, and detagle the nod. He slows down his fingers.

"Those hands are dangerous," you say, picking them up. "Way to go. Can I?"

He nods.

"Sorry Ma'am, I just type a lot. And now... they're preoccupied anways."

In a matter of half a minute, Yoongi finds himself with bound hands. He wiggles his wrists back and forth in the knot of the fiber, going nowhere, only fastening the gusset more because of the movement. You're shaking your head.

"I said they're dangerous, that needs a punishment. Just inhibiting them isn't enough."

"Are your punishments severe, boss?"

"Going by the Golden Book, they aren't. Unless someone leaks data. Then I'll be hard on the perpetrator. You're lucky."

"I made you leak, didn't I."

You squint at him. He's serving you his salesman smile.

"Giving me the brat? Hard punishment it is."

The smile grows even wider.

"Extra hard? I'm curious. Haven't had someone beat me up for long."

Tongue in the corner of his mouth, he's toying with your gaze. It doesn't take long for you to get the idea.

You don't bother answering. Despite all efforts not to, Yoongi exhales with a little fuck under his breath. You're sliding down his cock.

The paper stacks won't sit well in your hand, but they doesn't have to. You trace his jaw with them, side to side now.

"You need a smacking?"

"Need's an understatement."

"Then get ready weatherman," you fixate his head, hand grabbing the underneath of his chin. "It's raining bricks."

"Fucking— hot."

It's his face you're going for, down on his cheek. Flat side. It doesn't leave cuts. The bils disperse around his face like a paper halo.

You're satisfied how it turned out. A bounce of your hips landing on his own sweetens his expression for you all the more.

"Good— showers today."

"You took that one well."

A kiss to the cheek. It's a bit red.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

You test one of the stacks, make sure the wrap is in place.

"Mouth open, Romeo. Show me your teeth."

His jaw loosens. You hook your fingers at his lower lip.

"You got cute buck teeth. They look expensive."

"They are. But I only paid so I can smile at you."

"Smiling is good. Biting is better. Corny sucker." You shove the stack between the two pearly row of teeth. "Keep still that way. Secretaries from Daegu normally don't keep their mouth open as wide."

"A for me."

You nod. He bites down on the notes. The look in his eyes makes you drip on his cock.

"Good boy." You flick his nose with your middle finger snapping from your thumb. He's wincing. "Long as you know your place."

I will, he wants to retort, and you know he does, but the gag in his mouth prevents the words to come out clear.

Taking in his scent makes you want to curl up and cum right away. You slap your ass down on his thighs, take his dick deeper. Yoongi, still trying to manage the stack barring his jaw, does as much as whine. It gets louder when you sink down on him completely, but discontinue the thrusts.

"It's no punishment if I ride out all of your cum and call it a day."

"Nh—!"

No movement. Still hips. Yoongi twitches inside of you. Moans. Writhes.

Still no movement. It's if as his cock begs inside of you for a more fervent drilling.

"You'll fucking suffer, brat. I'll destroy you."

The whines blend into lumbering breaths, making you wonder how far his stamina is going to take him. Yoongi's hands are visibly shivering, much like his legs.

You take out the gag of notes from his mouth. It only closes with dire efforts, and too much saliva sploshing out to soak his dried lips. You continue thrusting down on his shaft for a dozen times.

"Let me hear, pretty love."

It's easy for your labia to glide open on his shaft, perhaps too easy, as the promise of wet weather did not fall short. Nor does your teasing. The amount of friction is barely enough to shove the condom up and down, and keeping him half in. It's torturous. It's in his eyes.

"Please. Break me, boss, please..."

"Oh I could," you slow, even more. "But I wanna use you later. Can't empty all of you."

"Boss, you're so cruel—"

"Be grateful for your dick riding."

You barely thusted twenty times. That'll train him. The yearning is in this face already.

"I, I am!"

"Then sip this up and make me come."

You huff out and slip off his dick. The condom is decently bulging out with precum at the top. Yoongi's head tilts back into the pile of notes when you sit on his face. Support from your legs helps you to push up your pelvis enough for his tongue winding into you. No hesitation. It curls, it prods. It explores. It looks for the spot that his thumb left just teased enough not to make your back arch.

An almost electric charge begins to make your body brim.

You want to grab hold of sheets but there is nothing but money. To your relief, Yoongi rustles with this arms above his head, still tied.

"Hold— on there," his lips drip, and just a second after, the teasing of his mouth resumes.

You grab his upper arms on either side. They're firm enough for you to find hold to lace on during the rise of your orgasm. He's purposely putting some tension into his muscles.

Yoongi isn't stupid.

Nor half as experienced as you thought he'd be, having been so busy around the globe.

You come on his tongue with a feeling so carnal, either of your knees in the pile of money seems to flicker, and then disappears trembling. No sentence in your mind makes sense anymore. Just the hot shot of pleasure pooling in your loins, bringing more fluid down, way down, for him to swallow. All support from your legs ceases to hold your hip in place.

Holding on to Yoongi's arms even more is the only way to prevent you crushing in his face from the jaw upwards with your weight. You can barely loosen the knot of the tie for him to get his arms free to come and prop your waist up. His tongue is still lapping and sucking until you feel the licks become aching on your clit.

"Zero, Yoongi— Sensitive," you expel, and he leans his head back. Your legs still tremor underneath you.

"You alright?"

He helps to lift you off from the crouched position, making you stand as good as possible, and you nod.

"That fucking tongue... shit!"

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away."

"Need a moment, oh my god."

He offers his chest to lean at now, humming. You snake your arms around his torso, barely standing. He holds you until at least a bit of sentiment returns to your legs. Severe breaths are replaced by flimsy ones when it does. Embraced this way, you'd expect his boner to press firmly into your stomach. But he's flaccid. And the condom is bulging out much heavier at the filled tip.

"Did you—"

"You can't just crush me and think I won't find that hot, Ma'am."

Shaking your head in disbelief is too much of a hassle now. But if you could, you would now.

"How much more of a painslut can you get, Min Yoongi."

"Who gets cum fed from their boss like this."

He nods toward the floor where crumpled bills are spread under your feet, almost flat to the floor.

"I'll probably feel that ten days from now. Sorry for cutting it short, my brain just did a somersault."

"Don't worry boss. I have a rule for that, too."

"Oh, right. There was one."

"The fifth rule. Don't overdo it. Some things are best saved for later. Nothing works all at once."

"I don't even want to know what you saved for later," you wipe some sweat off your forehead. Yoongi seems a bit bewildered.

"Wait, Y/N. Was it— bad?"

"If you just make me drip and come like that... what's next, enlightenment?"

"Damn... You scared me for a minute there."

"I'm the scared one. You sit next to my office every day and talk with a tongue like that. Where the fuck did you learn this!"

"Won't distract you from work, I promise."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one getting turned on!"

Before Yoongi can reply, your cell phone vibrates a few times on the floor. You pick it up sighing.

"Ah, shit."

"What's wrong, someone calling?

"No, battery is at 10%. I still have to give you my number in the car. There's a lot to clear up around here."

"Yeah," Yoongi looks around. "But I wrote down I needed to clean something up for you. You can go into the car and type in your number into the dashboard, it has a button for that at the top. I'll clean here, I mean the vault door stays open until someone turns the wheel."

"Okay, but you'll just bag this," you get up to draw some large grey sacks from a corner behind the shelves. "No issue. We won't stuff that back into the lockers or something. That takes forever."

"Are you still going to use the bills? Some might be a little, uh, stained and creased."

"Well, yes."

"Really, boss?"

"Now that I think about it. It's the money I'll send Yongsang after they demanded compensations from Jimin."

"Holy fuck, what? They really did?"

"This very morning. Chuck the condom into one of the bags as well. It's all still gonna be cleaner than most of the money Hoseok handles. I might fuck with you. But he won't fuck with me."

Taehyung steps into the elevator with his third-best outfit, trying to camouflage a giant grin.

"How was his suit like?" he licks his lips. You press together yours. The grin is too knowing.

You should have considered that he checks the CCTV of the subterranean every now and then. The vault, at least your personal one, he won't and cannot monitor.

At least Yoongi has black windows in his CLS, too.

But you have to live with the fact that Taehyung knows you only took two days from “Apparently he’s a ghost” to “I fucked my secretary”.

You elbow his side and watch him laugh even more.

“T, you should rather tell me how the press handled the big reveal.”

"Stocks are great, I mean, that happens when you chill out for once and have fun."

"Oh, I see? Backhanded compliments are the currency at SeoulTec now?"

"Am not complaining."

"Me neither, in fact."

"About what particularly?"

"Jimin does a good job hiring people. Extra salary coming his way. Next month. I will pay the Yongsang recompense for him as well."

"He does hire well. Not to mention he is a good actor, anyways."

"One day... he'll stop calling me grump and gets promoted."

The elevator tingles.

"Don't think he wants that," Taehyung shrugs.

"It's true that the position is already perfect. He just deserves something extra, you get what I mean. But I can't just gift him a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, can I."

"Hm. You know what, Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"You might wanna try something counterintuitive."

"Well, shoot."

"Promote Taemin."

"Taemin from maintenance? Into Jimin's office?"

"Jimin's liking the attention. Taemin finds a lot of fault in his desk tools as well. He's always on their floor to wipe something."

"Probably just to hear Jimin laugh, doesn't he."

"You got it. So, just an idea. Taemin is qualified anyways. He can do anything. I don't know why he is still busy wiping elevators and whatnot."

"Sounds like win-win."

"It's what I'm saying."

"Will give it a try."

The elevator doors pop open. Taehyung rushes out left-bound toward Eonjin's office. You stay inside the cabinet and wait for the doors to shut again.

But you hear more footsteps.

From behind the palm plants nearby, Hyuna turns around a corner and dances into your direction. She pretends to get into the elevator singing, then steps out again, messing with the ankle-level laser that lets the doors rattle, indecisive whether as to close or not.

"We'll talk later, lovebird," she chants.

"Am busy."

"Busy busting his balls, I know! I told you!"

"Seriously... Taehyung can't keep a secret. Does Jimin already know?"

You turn toward the mirror, demonstratively taking out your phone to swipe through your apps.

"So it really happened, I knew it. And Taehyung? He didn't tell me anything. I can just smell it. Don't even pretend! This entire building feels different. You got yourself that boy toy, hah."

Of course. Her entire dancing charade was just a bluff to test you. Hyuna's methods become more intricate by the day.

"Kim, back to blueprints, there's an evaluation coming up. We gotta stay on top now. Seoul's press would eat up anything controversial right now, the entire Di-On plan would have been in vain."

"Yeah, yeah, lovebird," Hyuna rolls her eyes.

"And don't buy too many of Sunmi's soft drinks. That shit gets you high. Miss Employee Of The Month. How can you even focus on coding?"

"Hah! That shit's delicious! And Sunmi needs her revenue!"

It's like talking to a brick wall.

"At least everything's back to normal in here. And don't worry about Sunmi. Her queue is back and longer than ever."

Hyuna makes an odd face.

"What? Back to normal? You fucking around is not normal, chief! I'm so close to throwing a party. I don't know if Sunmi can stock up on champagne anytime soo—"

"Blueprints, Hyuna. Blueprints. This is SeoulTec, not a nightclub. My birthday is in three weeks, we celebrate then. There's plenty to do beforehand, still."

You tap your fingers against the sides of the phone. Hyuna just laughs.

"Plenty to do? More like plenty of doing your boyfriend! For how long didn't you have someone?"

"Get to work."

Her lighthearted As you say! gets cut short with the doors closing. A second later, your phone buzzes. It's Hyuna's icon popping up in your messages.

— gotta have some fun in life, y/n ;) you already know it's a good thing. i'll keep it a secret though. fuck him rough.

Raindrops dabble on the aviary in the garden. There are only few cars, all headed to Incheon airport, chattering down the adjacent road every five minutes, maybe less. The frequent thunder at the bay makes them barely audible anyways. The rugged pines are swaying all around the pavilion at the pond.

But it's warm indoors. With nothing particularly interesting on the news, however. You zap back and forth since seven fifty, but the channels aren't as interesting as what goes on in the other room.

You sit and stare into the tube, hungry, one ear very much observant of the rummaging in the kitchen, and the constant walking noise. A little later, the footsteps cease for a second. You're twice as attentive now. To your surprise, the cat purrs in the hallway. It's her cozy-smoochy type of purr.

The footsteps resume their way to the living room. You stretch your neck out to look into the hallway. With his hair a little messy, Yoongi shuffles around the corner.

Now, the red off button on the remote yields to your digit fast. Yoongi slouches down next to you on the couch because he realizes too late how soft the cushioning is. It's unusual to see him in anything but a business landscape or driving around in Gangnam, now with a tight Muji shirt on, fairly low-cut, jet black.

After switching off his phone and tucking it underneath the table, he opens the noodle boxes that he balanced onto the nearby table, watches them steam away quite intently with two pairs of bamboo chopsticks, still wrapped, sitting right and left on several napkins with the crane logo embossed. Both smells of soy sauce and spices layer in the room like an invisible blanket of scent. Yoongi seems to wonder about something, scratching his chin. It catches your attention, but still leaves you in the dark.

Outside the formality of the office, and without the constant thought of Lexcom, the simplicity, the trained sleek demeanor, in his mannerisms has almost dissipated. He took a long time in the kitchen, too. He's relaxed. To your surprise, he's brooding more.

"Sunmi always gives customers two extra napkins when the food is more grease-laden," you say after lighting strikes outside at the harbor.

"She does very well with the stall. I've seen her bustle inside at the cafeteria counter as well."

"Yes, working out how to rotate best, currently. With a better salary than at Cruise Chicken Delivery Service. Was about time we got her into the cafeteria. She even traded her Doc Martens against the uniform without saying anything. I think she really likes it at Front of House."

"Wouldn't be surprised if she takes over the foyer in a week," he clicks his tongue, and grins.

"Me neither."

The thunder keeps on rumbling. Another flock of cars, heading towards the airport, makes their way down the road past the alley of cherry trees.

Yoongi settles on the big purple satin pillow in the righthand corner of the couch, pulls up and fondles his knees. His sweatpants, calves downward, have cat hair all over it. Nice to be at home. This might be what Hyuna called balance.

"Clingy, isn't she," you say.

"Cats like me more than dogs, I guess."

"In that case, I myself am a cat."

"Why not."

Yoongi takes his chopsticks and shoves their thin paper wrap off, then snaps them apart in the middle. He turns to you, noodle box in his hand, stirring. You lean over to kiss his nose. The rain keeps on pouring onto the pavilion roof. It's rhythmical. A few birds nestle in the aviary to hide from the sweeping drops as they always tend to do. Yoongi settles closer to you now, leaving the pillow.

After cracking apart the chopsticks, you want to pick up the other box of noodles to stir them yourself, wait, taste a bit, then remain startled. You're sniffling. Something isn't right.

"Oh?" Yoongi's eyes get a little bigger now. "Is it that food?"

"Nothing, just. It's unusual without your aftershave on. Really different."

Especially now that he's so close.

"Ah, that one. I didn't apply it today. Funny you noticed."

You're chuckling, then pick up the vegetables from the box with the chopsticks.

"First it's causing me a hassle, and when I think it'll be there, it's gone."

"It did?" He perks up, chopsticks tucked into the box again. "It's not that strong I hope."

"Sometimes people get used to what they wear and forget about it. My whole office is like, it's like you dip it into the bottle, too every morning."

And you're more intimately familiar with it than just that.

"The office... Guess you're right. Sorry for causing a nuisance."

"Didn't say it was a bad thing. Nothing against your normal scent either. Mind you."

"I bought it when I received a call from Jimin that I have a chance to start at SeoulTec and follow-up the work of— Jin, that was his name, right."

You're nodding.

"It's strange. He was all about perfumes and whatnot as well. He's read your book anyways. Looked up to you. He's doing well in Gwangju. I mean, with your guidelines he can't go wrong."

"Really? The Six Rules?"

"Didn't know that either until recently. Think, now I know why I wasn't keen to see Jin leave an empty spot that's hard to fill. Little did I know, your philosophies are the same. I thought you were polar opposites."

"The spy thing," he nestles in his hair, "wasn't the best way to introduce myself."

"Now you can. Different place, different start."

"But not the 'Min Yoongi, 26, from Daegu' way, I'm thinking."

"The cat needs that introduction, perhaps. Tell her about the trophies you won."

"She'd be so bored, it's not impressive."

Yoongi slurps up a few noodles after testing for temperature. He can barely keep his mouth closed because they're still so hot.

"Cats don't usually become secretaries, she wouldn't be bored. It's two different worlds. Don't burn your tongue right there, Romeo."

He swallows.

"Am trying!"

"There should be a rule that prohibits hasty eating."

Yoongi shrugs, draws another string of steaming noodles from the box.

"I think it's called common sense."

"Theory: Yours disappears whenever it's in my radius."

"No objections. Good theory."

"Or is it because you're just into that."

"Not burning my tongue in particular. But maybe other stuff—"

"Might have gotten myself a masochist secretary indeed."

"That sounds like something Hyuna would say," he munches and laughs, seemingly at once, but at least, you note, he waited for the noodles to cool for a bit.

"She pretty much already did. Kind of insistent as always."

"I mean, was Hyuna ever wrong?"

"More often than not," you nod. "She said you look good. That's understated."

"It's my job to be. I hope! At least."

"You didn't ever look bad as far as I can remember."

"I mean— And what she said about being a boy toy..."

"Is that in your manual?"

You tap Yoongi's chest with nonchalance in your tone.

"It's a lifestyle, anything can be arranged."

"Was she the one who gave you the condom?"

"Like ten of them, in an envelope," he gestures. "Taehyung dropped by with it and we both thought it was regular post or something."

"She even signed it?"

"Yeah, there was a note inside. With 'by Cupid Of The Month' written on it. And more 'xo's than I've seen in my entire life. And I thought, she spent her money on this?"

Yoongi scratches his head. You're mostly bewildered, too. 'Cupid of the Month' had stopped at virtually nothing. But who's surprised.

"Typical of her. Sorry that, you know, she's been so direct with you anyways. I don't know what to do with her. Hyuna's a wild card. All people at Development are like that."

"I mean, she introduced me to colleagues in her office, I got free contraception, she made compliments. Can't really resent her. If you go by the Golden Book, Hyuna's an outlaw. But if you go by what she accomplishes, that's a different story."

"Hm. Maybe it wasn't a bad idea to keep the condoms," you twirl the chopstick into the noodles. "I do get cravings."

Yoongi perks up.

"What cravings, Ma'am?"

You smile to yourself already.

"Oh, Romeo is interested?"

"I'm the genius secretary supposedly. Making sense of— My superiors is the least I have to do. I think that's what the manual is about."

"Information intake, isn't it," you crawl toward him. Yoongi sets his noodle box aside almost like robot on autopilot, all while staring at you. "I don't think you have troubles filling, you know. The empty spot."

He's staring even more, pupils blown wide enough to replace the dark hazel of his eyes with sheer, deep black.

"Pleased to do anything. Boss."

"You wanna know where that empty spot is?" you watch Yoongi's eyes drop to your crotch. "Well, almost."

Now, he's raising a brow. Palm flat, you pat your lap instead.

"Here it is. For my bratty brat. But not with a full stomach. If you fancy it, later."

"You mean— For a spanking?"

The nod that you let his words follow is deliberately tantalizing. Yoongi's chest rises and falls quite heavily.

"Hyuna hears that through the grapevine before I even raise one hand."

Yoongi's eyes crinkle at the outer corners. It's mischievous. He does look like a rascal the way he is one.

"Maybe... it's the spanking echo she's hearing."

And how could you not chuckle, now, too.

"You're fucking funny."

"Oh, well."

"I have more things like these in mind. If you wanna hear."

"Yes, yes," he loosens the seam alongside his shirt's cleavage, as if it were a collar and not so loose already.

"Just keep on eating," you retreat from the proximity, falling back to your spot in the sofa. "We're not in a haste. I've known you for two weeks or so. Rule Number V, remember. Slow."

"Right."

Yoongi picks up his noodles again, but he's not quite focused. Teasing gets to him. He's aiming to finish up fast. You eye him with a little mischief in your smile yourself.

"So, you really like to know what I've been thinking about, anyways?"

"Virtually nothing against that."

You tap your chopsticks against the edge of his takeaway box.

"Been thinking about how I love to test how obedient you can become. Curious how far it goes."

Christie meows in the hallway. You're starting to think she has synced with Yoongi's mind. Because that's what happens when a cat brushes herself against a secretary's legs each time. Bizarre, isn't it.

"As, as far as you desire."

Yoongi seems to have some troubles leaving his jaw closed.

"You didn't even hear what exactly I'd like to do. Got a whole list in my mind."

"Fair enough, but I don't think anything less than worthwhile is on that list, uh."

"How come you think you won't be selective? There's a lot."

"You smacked me in the face with money and sent it to your arch enemies. What's next? It can only be something good."

His intonation alone makes you throw your head back into a deep laugh. Particularly the 'what's next' undoubtedly appears to be something that he picked up from your tone.

"That was for the lack of anything else at hand. You like bills?"

"Mister Jung Hoseok at Yongsang does. I like the smacking part more."

Good answer.

"It's why I figured spanking suits you."

"My ass comes for free."

"Now you're the one who's teasing."

"Learned it from the master."

Yoongi crams the empty noodle box shut, wipes down his mouth with the napkin. Christie mewls again, scurries down the hallway into the kitchen heading for her metal bowl on the floor.

"But ah, I'm sorry Y/N, you weren't finished with the list."

No, you weren't. It makes your thighs tingle just thinking about it.

"Talk about ass. Anal sex in the whirlpool? I know it's a bit outdated. But you've probably seen that it's got an edge to hold onto. It's good to just bounce, and not slipping away. No guarantee that your dick won't break off."

"No doubts you're capable of causing that," Yoongi holds his belly, stifling another laugh.

"Hyuna came into the elevator recently and said the exact same thing."

"She's prophetic."

"It was about busting balls or something? I don't know what her partners go through. Like on a regular basis. I think it's that E'Dawn fella who works at the market. The guy probably gets fucked into oblivion all night with ten toys and a champagne bottle stuffed inside of him or something."

"As much as I want to be envious of him with that... Maybe she's not as we see her behind closed doors, I don't know. You surprised me, too."

"Oh, with what?"

"When I was in the development department. The whole office said you're a spoilsport or something. I think the opposite is true."

As expected of the gossip central. By now, all it does is amusing you.

"Well, work is work. When the software has to be protected, this is what we focus on. People will stew in their own grease about me being a spoilsport until Taehyung passes out a rumor that I might have, say, repurposed my own vault."

"Well, he just said he saw us head to the car on CCTV, didn't he."

Yoongi might be right about that now that you think the scenario through, the camera angles in mind. The walk from elevator to cars is fairly long.

"Yes? And afterwards, some interns came along to pick him up for after-work hours. All you see on the footage then is only that the car drives off to the lower level where the vault is and comes back, I guess, two hours later?

"Yeah, like that."

"We've been lucky Hyuna holds her tongue, too. Hard to believe she really promised. I don't know how she found out. I think she tricked me into telling her but that's not quite it."

"I think... that's my fault," Yoongi shrinks in his spot. "It wasn't kiss-and-tell, but, yeah."

"What, she knew because of you?"

"No, uh. After I went back home after we cleaned the vault. I've accidentally texted Namjoon something I wanted to send to you. Your numbers are very similar. I think I made a mistake with the dashboard button to access your number after you typed it in."

"Namjoon?!"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"I think we both have a numbers problem. What on earth did you send him? Nudes?"

"No, just an audio file."

"What!"

"No, no! It was just music. It wasn't me moaning or something."

"Thankfully, oh my gosh. But— That made Namjoon pick up on what was going on? I don't get it."

"I realized too late that it was the wrong number. It was just from the album. But I wrote your name and "for you" underneath."

"You mean Bill Withers' album?"

"Yes. I think the song was too telling."

"Which one was it?"

"Kissing My Love."

"Oh..."

"It wasn't explicit at least. But I think he understood right away. I couldn't send it again, I was afraid it would get posted to wherever."

Now you get it.

"That's why you've been calling me by landline yesterday? I've been wondering why you acted so strange about it."

"Sorry again, Y/N."

"All this technology and we're still human."

"The only thing without number errors is probably the software."

"That's because Hyuna developed it. She's best when busy. I can send her and Namjoon some new blueprints next week, I think. It'll take their minds off before the entire department implodes... discussing our love life."

You tuck your own noodle box away, with only a few chunks of too-spicy garlic at the bottom that you left out with deliberation. The hormones that Yoongi gives you just sitting on your sofa are making you feel hot enough.

"I don't think they're bored enough," Yoongi shakes his head. "We have a lot of stuff going on with Lexcom trying to save face and blaming us in the press. And people are still angry that Yongsang demanded money from Jimin even if it's all paid."

"Such a mess. But at this point I don't bother. The Di-On plan worked. My secretary is trying to send me music. All I care about."

You unfold one of the napkins, trace it across your lower face quite diligently.

Yoongi reaches underneath the table to grab at and bring up his phone, switching it on with a little 'ding' noise.

"Um, you might like this, I don't know."

You scoot next to him, gawking over his shoulder onto the green-lit screen where an "Unnamed_1" file pops up under his fingers.

"Cool, more jazz?" you ask.

Yoongi fumbles to press play to an untitled file. Piano music starts playing. It's lighthearted.

And then, a little heavy. Saddened.

Then, cheery again. It goes back and forth.

It's as if it was telling a story.

"From February," Yoongi says.

"That's you?"

"Yes. I had some time to compose back then."

"For how long have you been doing that?"

"Since second grade. I own a grand piano since the eighth."

"You're really good. Eonjin tried to play for two years, this is so much hard work. Why is that piece not named, it's so beautiful. I can really see the atmosphere."

"Ah... Thank you."

"Tickles— My own ivories."

You bite your lower lip.

Yoongi has to blink a few times.

"Sorry, what?"

"Nevermind, Yoongi."

"That sounds like a good title, to be honest."

"Hm?"

"Nevermind, I mean."

"Guess it fits. What key is it, anyways?"

"D Major, ma'am," he hums.

Now you're the one blinking.

"Hey, wait a second. Are you flirting?"

"I might be."

"Press pause right there."

The piano music stops. Yoongi lays down the phone on the couch flat, screen down.

"You said something about ivories," he pries. "I'm just curious."

"Is that an AB?"

"That is an A."

"Oh, want to hear more of my piano innuendoes, huh?"

"How could I not."

Yoongi almost cracks up when you flip him over onto his chest by the waist, and drag him by the ankles to get him towards you where you want him on the couch.

"Bummer the jacuzzi isn't running. I would break your dick off I swear," you tickle Yoongi's sides. "Come, come here to Mistress. Need something else to substitute for it."

"At your service," he crawls until settling on your lap, face down.

Maybe Hyuna will hear the echo indeed.

His pants are loose enough to slide them down with relative ease. Pleased to see what is there to inspect, you trace the outlines of his peach fuzz at the bottom of his spine, down to his little compact cheeks. Goosebumps spread all over while Yoongi wriggles his face into the couch whimpering. Grazing your nail into his skin seems to be particularly fun given how he arches a bit more each time. Even if there's not a hint of aftershave, something else strikes you as smelling really good, radiating from all over his skin.

"What shampoo do you use?"

Albeit barely audible, Yoongi still manages to mumble something even if the way his balls slips between your thighs makes his legs visibly twitch hard.

"Pa, passion fruit. Some no-name brand."

"Very nice."

Another pinch, more poking, and Yoongi's ass slowly comes alive with tiny red marks and an overall flush. However satisfactory it is, what pleases your ear more is the pained groan coming from him when you squeeze together your legs and put pressure on his balls.

"Is that an A for me?"

"Yes, Ma'am. Ah—"

"If your balls survive the weekend I am skeptical about. You did say you envy the E'Dawn guy for getting his spare of torture."

More pressure.

"Don't really need 'em," he grits. "Long as your pussy is wet."

"You do learn fast, love. Ready for some spanks?"

"Beg you... to."

You already cup your palm on his right side of the butt, about the lower half where the most flesh aggregates, adapting the shape with your fingers.

"This one's for 'D Major'. You're so cocky, even Jimin couldn't pull that off."

The first hit is deliberately crisp. His ass is cushioning your hand with a slapping noise louder than you thought it would give off. Yoongi bites into the fabric of the sofa, nose scrunching together.

"Nnh—"

"And this one's for 'softer than cream'."

A lighter blow stamps his ass a little redder. Judging by the double twitch in his legs, he's surprised. You realize how much you love playing with his anticipation. Yoongi's face soon buries in the sofa again when you make sure he feels you tugging and compressing his balls with the inner sides of your knees from either side.

"Sorry, boss! Ah!"

A third whack to his other cheek, remaining the cupped shape of your palm.

"Say it louder."

More pressure on his balls. It's not Christmas, but you start to think it's still fun playing Nutcracker. Yoongi's ass is turning cherry pink around the main red spots in the meantime.

"B for a sec, oh my god, oh my god," he gripes until you pause right away. Yoongi's breathing hard. You relax your thighs entirely, wait until his jaw declenches and his face begins to emerge from the surface of the couch.

"Is it really okay to go on?"

"Yes, just, just a moment. Oh, fuck..."

His mouth gapes, saliva pools at either side. You pat Yoongi's hair from behind, feeling it through. It's quite soft without any gel in. You check how his breathing goes in a heartbeat. But he's already grinding his cock against your thighs again.

"Okay, Yoongi?"

"Okay."

"I'll give you two more. Without the balls."

"They're blue anyways, shit."

"Mh, it's making you horny?"

"Too much, Mistress."

"Then keep your ass still and don't rut. Or else it gets worse."

"Sorry, it just happened! I just love your legs..."

He really is a secretary masochist.

"You want a punishment."

"I'm desperate."

"AB?"

"Yes, and, it, maybe it should be, I mean. Fa— fast. Please. I'm blowing up soon. I'm so sorry."

"You naughty piano boy."

First, you flick his ass to get him accustomed, then deliver another pair of spanks to either side of his butt. Each is not as strong a hit as before, but still makes him jiggle. A really stark neck vein starts to thump and run up his tan neck. Yoongi's ass is completely ruined with blotches by the time you end.

You roll him off your lap, awkwardly so, to lay back down alongside the couch. He rotates to support himself from the side instead after his breath stagnates. It hurts too much with his ass facing downward on the couch.

"Calm, calm," you stroke his loins, and twist his fringe out of an otherwise pinkish and sweaty complexion. Yoongi almost immediately twitches. "Sensitive, aren't we. But your balls survived."

Kind of red. Bigger and more bulging, solid, pushing up against the brimming shaft that you would love to flick just like his ass.

He really did become hard. And close. Very close.

"I really thought I'd come, sorry—"

"Don't be. Your screams make me wet enough."

"Ah. That's the goal," he rubs his ass. "How many did I take?"

"Five, two hard ones."

"I need to work on that. As for being wet..."

His eyes linger on your abdomen.

"I'm not gonna shove it in your face, I'll do that later. We need something messier first. Real dirty shit."

"Yes, my goddess?"

"I do have an idea."

"Sounds good."

"Should we do something fun again?"

Yoongi licks over his lips.

"Is there a 'place' I don't know of."

"The garden is in full bloom," you point toward the window. "Nobody can see inside."

"It's still raining, are you serious?"

"The pavilion is made of glass. Did you see it?"

"Oh, right!"

"It's quite beautiful indoors. A lot of ivy covering the outside as well."

"There might be a little bit of evening heat left."

And less presence of a weirdo cat watching you fuck trying to figure out what the hell is going on with these humans.

"We take two blankets. Wrap yourself in one, I join in a minute, I grab two things."

"Okay!"

"And take these here, your socks get wet on the lawn otherwise."

You hand Yoongi your blue felt slippers to put on, open the squeaky old door to the garden's porch and where Yoongi quickly hops out. Wiping the saliva off his chin, he vanishes inside the pavilion with slightly dewy hair. The thunder, gladly, has not returned since a few minutes now. You're heading to the cupboard in your bedroom.

The birds have started to cease chirping while the rain still panders on the transparent roof. Yoongi has spread out one blanket on the powder-coated steel bench inside of the pavilion, the other he hands you right away coming through the little glass door. He looks mystified.

"You put on a skirt, Y/N?"

"Easier to fuck you like that."

"In, indeed."

"No prep, but at least I wanna bounce good on you. Here," you hand Yoongi a little packaging in exchange for the blanket. "Lube that cock up, I need it slick."

"You, you want me in—!"

"Yes. I don't care. The full load if you can. Wanna go for it?"

"That's an, an A. We don't have the jacuzzi, after all."

"You said you were tested last month, right."

"Yes."

Yoongi's pants are shoved halfway down his thigh. He hardly dares to use his entire palm to distribute the light yellow, cold lubricant.

"What's wrong?" you ask, wrapping yourself into the blanket chest downwards, keeping your sweater on. "Help necessary?"

"No, it's just, I'm really sorry if I cum early. Next thing Hyuna needs to send me in an envelope are blue pills or something. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you made me implode last time. We're even. Take a little more of it, it's cold enough to kill that boner for a while. We're outside, that helps, too."

"Don't want to ruin the blankets entirely."

"I might leak on there too, ignore it. I'm horny as shit. I just need cock in my ass."

"Nevermind then."

Yoongi slathers half a palm full of the liquid over the tip of his cock. Its veins turn greenish, slightly azure. They're even bulging out more than the vein at his neck. The throbbing comes back. You pull off your own shoes and socks.

"If you weren't close I'd step on that dick properly."

"Maybe you should, if it hurts I'll cum later."

"Mh, really?"

"AB."

You place your foot at his crotch, stretching your Achilles heel back and forth a little. A day on the couch can always leave it a bit rusty.

But Yoongi was right saying he'd prolong this way.

Letting the underside of your foot grind, then press against his length, he grabs at the bench where he first finds grip and goes red in the cheeks and collarbones. You slip your right hand between your legs and deliver a few quick rubs against your clit while Yoongi winds on the bench.

"Ah! Oh, fuck!"

Good sign. Now the blood's elsewhere. Retreating your foot, Yoongi's pants have ridden down even more. And underneath the hem of your skirt, a little transparent droplet, bordering milky white, runs down the inside of your thighs.

"Look what your voice does, Yoongi darling."

Trembling bottom lip, he looks up and sees.

"That's, that's sweet."

"You're lucky it's not my period. Might be fun when I think about it though."

"When is it, normally?"

"End of the month, coming up."

"We have plenty of condoms and towels if you want a bloody fucking. Wet is wet."

"That's the motto," you glance down your thighs. The droplet is making its way. Yoongi catches himself fondle at your hips absentmindedly.

"Shit, I wish I could make you come earlier."

"If you're lubed enough, anything is possible, Min Yoongi."

You gather the blanket and get on his lap, a little stumbling. Yoongi brings you upright with the help of his arms.

"You okay?"

"Too horny. Fuck you and your passion fruit schtick. That shit messes with my mind. Been waiting for that veiny dick too long."

"Served to you slick," Yoongi reaches down between his legs, and peels the foreskin of his glans. It glistens with the cold lube, slowly heating the liquid up for you. "Anything to alleviate your cravings."

"Knock before you enter."

"Of course."

Yoongi grabs his cock by the base and taps it against your clit, which ends up spritzing the lubricant all over your labia. The electric feeling shoots back through your loins. It's been a couple days since the vault.

"Is it good like that, Y/N?"

"That's how you get in. Slow now. I'm not stretched out. Just give me the tip."

"I can use my fingers first."

"Tip, Yoongi. Your fingers are dangerous."

Grip tight on his shaft, which alone makes him inhale sharply already, Yoongi obliges, circling in the head at your entrance. It's about a quarter in, by now only dilating the muscle enough for you to feel his superficial warmth. He's struggling a bit to bring it in further, almost slips off. 'Slick' was no lie.

"What makes you relax?" he mutters in your left ear, tempting now.

"Kisses, Romeo. And don't come."

"Trying hard," he leans in. You pull down his jaw by the sides with two fingers.

"Where's that tongue I love, busy elsewhere?"

He shakes his head briefly. Between his teeth snakes out, coated wet, the light pink delight where saliva pools. What dabbles between your legs like the rain, with added lube now, even, Yoongi seems to have going on with his mouth.

"I love your drool. Good darling," you nibble at his nose, making him crosseyed to follow your movement. Yoongi's cock stays quivering at your ass, half an inch deeper, but still, with a significant part of his tip visible. "Do I squeeze your cock well?"

"It's, it's too good. Ow—"

Sitting still hurts. Yoongi's ass will be green and blue by tomorrow.

"I'll step on it more next time I get the chance, do you hear me?"

"Yes, goddess, oh shit."

You could do as much as sneeze and Yoongi would be bubbling over like a well. Licking off the saliva from his tongue creates long, gorgeous threads down your chin, thinning out as they drop on the blankets. Finally.

You open.

With the help of your own hand, eventually, you stuff the rest of his tip inside of you. To your pleasure, your palm feels Yoongi's cock vein pulsing even harder than before. It's so big and bulging. A little crinkled at the base, and protruding in S-shapes and zigzags the most where his girth spans the widest and your hand rests. You could just climax to the mere thought of it. Yoongi's shampoo really has been getting to you.

"Is it good this way?"

"Just how I want it," you shed the blanket, shove up your skirt a little more. "You feel very good, Min Yoongi."

"Utmost, cordial pleasure, M—Ma'am."

"You're close, my love."

"Yes, hurts..."

"Don't hold back. Cream me up."

He looks at you with big, kittenish eyes.

"Can I, can I really?"

"I don't care. Cum in my ass. You have to clean it."

"I have... a lot of cream for you."

"You're a fucking secretary whore. A."

Yoongi releases with a bass grunt from the very back of his trachea. Droplets from his black bangs nestle between his lashes when he tilts his head back against the bench. The welcome heat of his sperm seeps through the inside of your rectum.

You milk him. Hard. With full tension of your sphincter pressing around the area where his tip ends. Your hand squeezes onto the vein to grout his girth alike, feeling his balls contract and release just inches below. They're pumping more hot bits of seed into your ass the more you jerk him roughly. The more dire, agonizing growls drop from Yoongi's throat, the greedier your hand becomes.

And so does Yoongi's.

You feel his thumb back pricking at your clit. His hands shake too much to keep his finger firmly in place. Instead, you feel him poking, rubbing you in a helpless frenzy. His eyes look blood-shot when they flash at you. Even though his hands begin to tremble even harder, you see one thing in his gaze. Determination.

The friction against your clit becomes so sloppy, he glides off several times. But that, in return, makes him press his thumb down even more, causing you to squeak and clamp at his shoulders with new each wave of heat and lust that his movements kickstart through your body. He's not giving up so fast. The rain drums onto the roof incessantly.

You want more.

A lot more.

The sheer fury in your scowl brings out a yell that reverberates in the pavilion.

"Do it faster, dirty fuckslut!"

With the words, your forehead comes crashing forward against Yoongi's. His tongue yields immediately to yours jabbing inside. You push it in, retreat, then slide back in to its farthest point, crisp, until Yoongi chokes up. His tearing eyes glower with a spark so gluttonous, you feel yourself leak. The pulse of his thumb against you gains even more acceleration. The heat becomes scorching in your abdomen.

His scent is all you can think of now, and the beat of the rain on the roof. Everything else blacks out. When the edge comes and you part from the kiss, your ass almost automatically pops wider and swallows Yoongi's creamy cock by three inches more, clamping around the vein, and getting fully stuffed and shot up with semen, with lube, his fat fucking girth. The throbbing vein pulsing into you. When the orgasm sets off, your entire core jolts under the fast stimulation of his hands. A thin streak of blood starts running from Yoongi's left nostril and mixes with the drool on his lips. The wind outside hammers against the glass walls of the pavilion while the length of Yoongi's dick crams into your ass further. Your eyes roll backward into your skull. He rubs you through the violent twitches of your body until his hand cramps up and he switches to the other with haste, even more avid digits carrying your through the high until you hit balls deep. The neighbors prove to be on a stroke of luck today when the thunder sets in to drown out you screaming his name.

A late-night flight takes off and leaves Incheon buzzing with the noise of the turbines. A few cars are still going back and forth the lane.

Yoongi's whole body still shivers with sweat. He hangs on the bench like a demolished ragdoll, your sleeve pressed against his nose to catch the rest of the blood. Your body is still buzzing with adrenaline from head to every toe.

Ever so slightly, you lift yourself from Yoongi's cock that doesn't seem to plop out of your asshole right away. His tip is quite broad and acts like a hook inside of your rectum, keeping his semen in place until he helps you with his hands.

The skirt, now pulled down, does a bad job at covering the dripping gape of your asshole. You pull the blanket around the two of you more tightly.

"Ouch, oh fuck..."

"My baby's hurting. Let me hear."

"I think they split in half. My, my balls. Shit."

"You shot that in deep," you slurp off the remaining saliva from the corners of his mouth. "I love your cream serving. Shoved a lot of things around in there. Guess I'm a dirty boss."

You're giggling. Yoongi's ears turn red.

"I like that."

"And your cock is perfect."

"Did it, feel nice?"

A strong nod comes as a fast reply.

"You almost made your hand fall off for that," you pick up his wrist to plant little pecks on it. "This darling working hard, does he. My ass still doesn't wanna close. It misses you. I got more cream than the cafeteria makes in one day."

"If, if you care sharing. You said something about cleaning earlier."

"Oh yes. That serving's for two."

"Yes, Y/N. Can I?"

"Your tongue still ready to go? Tell me when the sleepiness kicks in."

"I'll scrape it out if I must, I'll do anything, boss. AB."

"We'll go inside and I hope I don't lose any of it on my way. Alright? I think your nosebleed stopped by now. It wasn't a lot. Come."

You both stand up trying not to lose balance, thus, holding on to each other inside the blanket.

Outside, you walk through the grass on bare feet, watching out for lightning. But, as Incheon's sky seems to follow however the weatherman sees fit, the thunderclouds have seemed to become tender against the stars again.

"You get a lot of my blood going, Y/N," he says.

You open the porch door for him to slip inside the living room.

"Love you, Yoonie."

Much like the rain, the shower water is running down with a perpetual splash. It's entirely dark outside by now, with few stars peering from behind a translucent grey cast. The moon looms from one corner of the window and sends a soothing, cool light. Yoongi's lips are warm on your shoulder, his hands suave on your back. They circle in the shampoo until it foams up and runs down your legs. His phone is going off in the other room, and you already know it's Namjoon blowing it up with messages and calls.

"He's turning into Hyuna," you say.

"And you turn into me by the scent of it."

"I like passion fruit."

And stealing his shampoo just because.

"Next you just rub on my aftershave and go."

You turn up the shower handle to increase temperature ever so slightly when the warmth of his kisses leaves your skin.

"I might. Just to see how Jimin recognizes it, he's been trying to tease me."

"About your perfume?"

"No, that I like your aftershave."

Yoongi tampers with the sponge from the shower tray and distributes a bit more shampoo on it.

"I can just wear more of it and don't care, does that solve the problem?"

"That'll probably make the air fresheners obsolete at SeoulTec."

"Are there actually any?"

"I've been asking myself the same, to be honest. One day we'll have pollution alert because of the subterranean fumes."

"Ah, we'll have to ask Taemin at maintenance about this. I'm sure he has an idea, Y/N."

"What I've been thinking is that there will be once car less down there, anyways."

Yoongi seems to understand. He brings the sponge up to your collarbone.

"Mine, I believe?"

"I can pick you up," you affirm. "Or if you like to spend more time around here, we'll go together, anyways. No guarantee that Tae's eyes won't fall out when he sees us arrive together on CCTV."

"It's only a matter of two weeks until the entire company knows," Yoongi squeezes the sponge to bring the foam out, and it bubbles down your breasts, then dissipates with the water stream from above. "Taehyung gets chatty at the cafeteria."

"Oh yeah, and especially now that Sunmi is there, I don't know. Can't really keep this a rumor," you shift in an attempt to get Yoongi to move his sponge around a bit more. "Or do you say that so everyone knows you belong to me?"

The blush that traces along his cheeks does not come from the high temperature in the bathroom, you are sure.

"I mean," he stammers. "Namjoon knows, Hyuna does, Taehyung, Jimin."

"Yes, I'm aware. It's like a chart for exponential growth. Or some domino effect. But I wanna know what you think."

Yoongi seems to compensate for a lack of reply with more sponge rubbing. Your chest is getting warmer and warmer from all the friction and hot water.

"I, uh."

"You think I have something against it when you want to show us off?"

"When you put it like that."

"If you reply to Namjoon later, I mean, do I care? And it's better if we don't lie about it in the first place. You think that would be good?"

Yoongi stops moving about now.

"No. Surely not," he puffs out. "I don't want to live a lie."

"It's not about showing off either. If people know, they know. Their opinion is out of reach for us," you shrug. "If they think we're show-offs, that's how they think. We're just together. What pretense is there. Except maybe the cars. Those are ritzy enough."

Yoongi starts giggling. You turn down the water temperature ever so slightly.

"I don't know about you," his lips go into a pout. "Taking public transport from Incheon to SeoulTec is hell and takes an hour. We're not going anywhere without fast cars. You commute a lot, of course you drive Porsche."

"If I stay at your home we can almost walk or take the subway."

"Mine? It's not as nice as your house."

The shower stream changes to cold a little. You've already warned him about how old the boiler in the basement is. He doesn't seem to bother the temperature change. It goes back to warm in ten seconds either way.

"What about it, are you piling designer drugs in there or something?"

Even after asking two times already, you remain curious. Yoongi has been reluctant to say much about his home.

"It's a bit spartan I guess."

"Hey, more place to fuck!"

"I don't even have a garden or a whirlpool somewhere. It's not homely either," Yoongi continues to scrub. "I wish I had a cozy armchair like that. My taste— sucks. There's nothing special about my place."

"Oh come on, isn't that the please the senses rule? You walk around with gel in your hair. No person like that has a shitty home."

"I try hard not to be boring like my house."

"Yoongi. You're a dirty liar. What are you saying," you cock your head to the side. He shrugs a little, finishes scrubbing. The stars gleam brighter outside, and the moon wanders, steady as always. You reach for the lotion to apply gently on Yoongi's backside after turning off the shower.

The familiar piano tune resounds. Nevermind. A few geometric architectures pass, alongside shops that Hyuna and Jimin like to frequent during the holidays. The lights of Cheongdam station illuminate the end of the street.

Namjoon hasn't been calling Yoongi today. Only Eonjin pops up in your email feed while you're going down Hannam bridge, joking about how everyone at Marketing seems to have relocated their offices into the cafeteria to get advice from Sunmi. Attached, a picture with the new interns smiling bright at today's second software launch press conference in Busan.

The event, she writes, has brought a lot of shareholders there, too. You reply congratulating, and with a question about how Jimin and his department are doing in the meantime. Other than that, there are no mails to drag around on the screen.

Yoongi's CLS takes a corner into a side street with guest houses, then enters a tunnel. The lights overhead almost fly since he can go faster on this lane, then fade once the end of the tunnel approaches. A big sign frames the exit.

Gangnam District.

Yoongi steers toward the northern area and talks about how he learned Taemin lives about two blocks away from his house just a few days ago. The piano piece comes to an end just before he parks in front of a glass facade, interlaced with concrete and stairwells in between, three levels high, yet still towering. A few plants form a guard of honor at the entrance.

"The cat has her time off, that's good," the car door clicks into its place after you shut it. Yoongi follows suit on the other side and presses the red lock button on his car keys. The turn signals flash once, then, the Mercedes falls asleep.

Yoongi opens the front door with a four-digit numeral code that seems familiar to you. He hesitates for quite a moment before typing it into the blue grid. So you realize: He's changed it recently. He looks at you, testing whether you saw the numbers. You're nodding.

"Does she like being alone?" he closes the door behind you.

Whatever Yoongi has done to prepare his house this morning before going to work, it primarily seems to have targeted what the rooms smell like.

He must have crawled around on every marble tile and parquet with a tiny paintbrush, coating the gaps with something suspiciously reminiscent of—

Sandalwood.

It's everywhere.

Not that he doesn't make you horny already.

"Alone? She can recover from all that scrubbing against your leg, her hair is falling out already. You're a fucking cat magnet."

"It's falling out? That is unintended!"

"I'm glad she likes you, though. Makes two of us."

"Ah," Yoongi exhales, and places the keys in a white little tray next to the cloakroom where you already pace about, looking for a good spot to hang up your spring coat. Eventually, you find a broad metal hanger, streamlined, to carry the light attire.

"And hey," you add, "it's not boring here."

"You have access 24/7 with the code now," Yoongi pulls off his black loafers, arranging them next to your shoes.

"That's a number I won't mess up."

"Unless I play piano or sleep, knocks on the door have quite an echo in here either way. I'll hear it."

"Oh yes. You don't like walls, do you?"

Even a brief look to the ceiling reveals the gallery on the third floor where a few statues protrude from the edge on wide pedestals, integrated into the balustrade. You never thought it could be this spacious judging by the facade.

"Walls? Just the ones inside you."

He pulls off his own trench coat, hangs it up next to yours.

"My walls is where you're headed, Min Yoongi. Cocky fuck."

"Hyuna's condoms got a special place, do you wanna see? Before they run out."

"Sure thing. Doesn't she send you and Taemin a new supply at every opportunity?"

"Pretty much," Yoongi takes the stairs, you joining parallel on the step. The entire stairwell has a modern slant to it, with wide pillars supporting a wooden handrail on both sides. "She should make a safer sex campaign or something."

"Or she just wants to make everyone have sex for the gossip."

Yoongi lifts a brow. You currently pass a bit in the staircase where slender poles of bamboo tower on the right side. The stems reach up from the basement where they firmly anchor in a raised bed. Behind the bamboo installment, you can see a box of glass embedded into the architecture. Awards, gleaming in platinum, bronze, and gold. About a dozen or more.

"I'm not sure," he murmurs. "She has this 'have fun, lovebirds' schtick."

"She says that to me as well!"

"Whatever she tries seems to be working."

"It's Hyuna," you say, taking the last step. "She'd be happy to know you found a good place for cupid's present."

"Oh, I hope so. Over here."

Yoongi points toward the other end of the room where the balustrade is. To your confusion, the only visible interior in this part of the room is a white pit, a few inches deep engraved into the floor, and dark blue cube structures scattered around, inside, or alongside it. The pit appears to be made of a smooth surface.

"What is that?"

"I told you it's boring."

"No, it looks interesting. Is that a sculpture as well?"

"Sort of. The cubes are depositories for various things. I can activate the whole thing if you want."

"Sure, go ahead. Does it have lights or something?"

"No, but this."

Yoongi claps his hands two times. A sensor at the ceiling flashes up in yellow, then rotates. You can hear some sort of pattering noise coming from the cubes inside the pit.

And then, water starts to spring up from the upper edges of them. The pit on the floor catches the surge and distributes it evenly in the room. It is not simply a hollow in the ground, but a flat basin. Yoongi heads to one of the larger, inactive cubes on the edge of the pit while you are still frozen stiff.

"What!"

"I figured that the third floor needed a bit of decoration," he opens the structure at the side to reveal simple drawers. While he rummages, you step forward and pull your socks off, twirl through the room tip-toed. Gangnam's clear sky outside makes for a good scenery. The beaming skycrapers don't annoy you as they are usually prone to on other days.

You're cheering.

"Oh, you put the Rome in Romeo!"

"Rome? Because it's an aqueduct?"

"No, this is the Trevi Fountain."

He's grinning a little, and picks out a condom from the drawer.

"You don't even need a coin spare to get lucky in here," his eyes follow your path through the room now.

"My whirlpool is a joke against this. What's next, a sauna? A tennis court on the roof?"

"That's the only special feat I have in here. Your pool is much cozier and romantic."

"The only one?"

"The rest is glass and concrete," he shrugs. "Was a hasty time I got this built."

"Liar, you have statues over there! And the, uh, bamboo thing! Where are the statues from, anyways? Holy shit!"

You wonder whether it is some Olympian, perhaps Olympic type of figure on the right sight of the balustrade. It sure looks like it. Full nude, athletic body. Chiseled into perfection. SeoulTec's crane in the foyer looks like a bad joke compared to it.

"Present. I was just glad someone had a better taste than I did," Yoongi tears open the condom. You head back to him now, feet leaving wet blotches on the floor behind you.

"May I ask who it was?"

"Namjoon."

"Really?"

"It was for my birthday two years ago."

"Are you sure you're fucking the right person?"

His eyes are downcast. You glance down to Yoongi's hands peeling the Magnum.

"Time flies."

"I'm jealous of him. You know Namjoon since forever. You're a good team."

"We have a lot to catch up with," he exhales. You can see the tension creep up his torso. "I thought— the same about Seokjin and you."

You swallow. It's a bitter taste in your mouth. You don't feel like cheering anymore.

"Yes. We have. That's a draw," you reach your hand to shake his. The water of the cubes keeps on pattering. "Two jealous fucks with missing years."

He squeezes your palm. Still no eye contact. He looks at the statues instead.

"Cheers to that."

He keeps on fixating on the statues. You exhale. There are a thousand and one feelings in his gaze.

"Namjoon took your virginity, didn't he."

"There was a bet. And a lot of soju involved."

"Time really flies."

You let go of the handshake. Yoongi rubs the back of his neck.

"It does. Even managed to get sober."

"Maybe you would have been a good drinking buddy when I was busy crying over Seokjin."

Pause.

Something changes.

Yoongi looks beyond indignant now. Even against the sound of the fountain, he's almost yelling.

"What! He made you cry? Seokjin?"

"I have to blame myself for that," you stroke a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Really now?"

"It's been years," you tremble. "I didn't realize he was about to be, well. Engaged when I asked him," you knead your palms together. It's if as the feeling of back then returns. "I was already hesitant. Thought it would mess with work. In the end, it messed with it more because I hesitated. I did move on after we got tied up in the tax scandal rumors. Had no other choice. But I didn't feel good at that time. Jin's wife still resents me. She said I'm a homewrecker. I couldn't have known about her."

The tenderness returns to Yoongi's voice.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Doesn't that mean, you said you couldn't have known! Don't blame yourself."

"Maybe it was better that they went to Gwangju. Although— I went through hell offering the vacancy. I thought ill of you as well. Thank Jimin for insisting we avertise the job opening."

Yoongi chucks the open condom back into the drawer. The cube closes without noise. The water keeps on running.

"You had several good reasons at that time to think ill of me," Yoongi says.

"It wasn't the spy thing. I was just quick to assume things because I messed it up last time."

He shakes his head. His voice becomes firm again.

"Don't say that, Y/N. You didn't mess it up. You were still a good team regardless with Jin. And you didn't assume things. Namjoon's mistake made you think the number was correct. You had a reason."

All you can do is sigh out, but the water swallows the sound.

"Code 19— It became more than that. It became, something like, a convenient reason to get rid of you. So I wouldn't have to deal with the same issue all over again. I got the same dangerous feeling once your CV was on my desk. I didn't know I was wrong about everything. I was too stupid."

"I would have done the same in your stead. Don't castigate yourself. You have a lot of responsibility."

"It's easy for you to say that. But you didn't hear the shit I said to Jimin. I said I'll beat you up and drag you out. I called you a clown, too. I said all these things. To everybody. And then I agreed to chase your car into Hannam with the girls. Do you understand? I was ready to hand you to the police... We almost killed Hyuna on the street because we were reckless. Heck, I told entire deparments bullshit about you!"

"Well... Not complaining."

You fall comepletely blank.

"Huh?"

"You thought I broke the law, after all. My reputation you don't have to worry about."

"Why?"

"I get it strategically ruined every four months or so, this is secretary business," he nervously rubs his wrists down his legs. "But in this case, all things were clarified, weren't they? I have nothing to complain about. Everybody knows I went undercover by now. And that Hoseok was the real perpetrator. Why do you have a bad conscience, everything turned out fine!"

"Doesn't change I did that stuff. I look like a fool. And you were innocent."

"Y/N, listen to me," he cups your shoulders with his hands now. "If you were a bad CEO, SeoulTec would be in ruins by now. The opposite is the case. And we got together. If you called me names, then you did. None of us can change that. Nobody likes a spy in their enterprise. Especially when a lot of sacrifices were made for it in the past. It wasn't wrong to take the Code 19 alert seriously. It's my fault, and Namjoon's, that we didn't inform you correctly. We're the fools. That was careless. We fucked up times more and caused you all this mess. If you would beat me up and kick me out? I'd deserve it."

"No. All you did was miss out on a detail in the Code 19 email. That was not deliberate."

"I'm sure we did something very wrong when we managed to cause you and the girls to drive to Hannam. Some stuff must have happened for me to appear that untrustworthy to you."

"Well... I thought you kidnapped Namjoon because his social media died. And that you installed cameras in my office. I was also mad that Taehyung gave you access to the subterranean password without asking me since the vault is down there."

Yoongi sighs, hands gliding off your shoulders.

"Ditto. It's just like I said. Assistant Min Yoongi made a very bad first impression, posed as a traitor, and left his boss completely in the dark about it. I carry the can."

Now it's your voice that goes through the roof.

"Ditto you say? That was just me being paranoid! And blowing everything out of proportion! Jimin probably thinks of me as Seoul's number one imbecile. I wanted to fire him! Can you imagine that, Yoongi? Firing the guy who hired you and saved our plan with Di-On? You're dating a first class idiot!"

Pause.

Yoongi's shoulders are visibly shrinking together under the weight of your words.

"That, that's a draw, Y/N," he soothes to assuage you. "We're even. Okay. That was... both subpar. But it's useless to feel guilty now. Everything's in the past. There is no need to bring yourself down. You know that it's not good for you. Please. Do you understand that? I don't want my girlfriend to hate herself. Nothing of what you said harmed me at the end. I'm alright. And if you still think you are an idiot — it takes two to tango. I was very stupid, too. I made you fear for someone else's life and the safety of the entire company. That's even worse than making you cry. I'm a shithead. I hardly deserved when you said you want to invite me to your house and spend time. I have to be very grateful for your trust. It must have been twice as hard to open up again after what happened with Seokjin, and Lexcom. And Yongsang. Everything. You're crafted of steel and still let me in. How can I not be grateful. Y/N."

He claps his hands twice. The fountain ceases almost immediately. You fell silent, too.

"This place... isn't good for us, Y/N. Downstairs. Come," Yoongi breaks the quiet after a minute, offering his arm for you to link with. "We both have to make our amendments. But we'll eat, first."

You hook into the angle of his elbow and whisper a little okay.

Yoongi guides you toward the stairwell again. The tension loosens around this shoulders.

The little rice cooker steams and puffs every other minute, but it's not loud enough to disturb the music in the room. Yoongi's hands waltz across the keyboard, bringing the lighthearted melody to life. He was right that the house carries an echo quite well. It's a good way to pass the twenty minutes until the rice is boiled enough. Despite its lean and simple design, your chair is quite comfortable. It naturally rocks a bit back and forth, too.

On the kitchen counter, accompanied by several Santoku kitchen knives in a granite block, several types of sprouts, zucchini, and a small pile of watercress wait to be mixed into the pan where a sauce now simmers just enough to stay warm on the gas stove, all while letting the spices and herbs that Yoongi mixed into them earlier infuse the decoction. The sky outside remains crystal clear as before. Seoul is vibrant.

When Yoongi gets up from the grand piano and joins you in the kitchen to put white porcelain bowls on the table, about half the house has taken up the smell.

"How hungry are you?" he gazes across his shoulder while stirring the zucchini pieces into the pan using a wire wisk.

"It's like— as if I skipped lunch break and didn't visit Sunmi's stall combined."

"No problem Ma'am, I used three cups of rice instead of one today."

Now, the watercress disappears inside the sauce, all while Yoongi turns the gas influx button and the circular blue flames dim a bit more. The rice cooker starts to jingle just a minute later.

"Shame we can't order stuff from Sunmi's takeout anymore since she moved," Yoongi says, filling the bowls. "But if this is only half as tasty, we should be alright. I hope you like it."

After handing you chopsticks, he sits down at the opposite side of the square teak table, now rocking back and forth as well.

"The only close delivery is Wang's restaurant," you mix some of the rice into the sauce. It's nice and sticky. "I don't want to know what my employees think about having to order there now when Sunmi is not available in the cafeteria."

"Betrayal, I'd rather starve, hah!" Yoongi wildly gesticulates with his chopsticks, imitating Hyuna's voice and mannerism. You've rarely seen him act silly this way. Your laugh may be surprised, but genuinely entertained.

"Sunmi will be installing a new delivery service in two months if it goes on like that. She gets Taehyung to drive the Honda around or something. We had a food supply shortage last Monday and Thursday. People really love the sandwiches."

Yoongi ruffles his hair and puts a napkin into the V-neck of his shirt.

"She is busy. Hope I'm a worthy substitute cook until then. Personal Cruise Rice Delivery right here."

"I think it tastes good. Is that part of secretary training?"

"It's not a part, it's a must. At least for me. Secretaries are the modern day knights," Yoongi ours himself some water now, then fills your glass, too.

"Oh, you mean people think they have just one task but actually—"

"They have to be good at everything, yes. You got it. It's like being Miss Moneypenny."

You have to chuckle to yourself. If only he knew.

"If you keep it up like this, I'll make you my Squire then."

"Yes, Lady Y/N," he makes a tip on his invisible hat. "Any wishes? We still have desert coming up."

"Methinks something with fruit."

"Oh yes! Fruit is a good choice."

"I won't eat all the rice and get full until then, I promise."

"If you like— Got a bunch of strawberries from the market yesterday," he nods toward the fridge. "You're lucky."

The chrome dishwasher rumbles and churns alongside a continuous pumping noise. There's a lot to rinse down. Yoongi said it's one of the few times he won't do it by hand.

By now, the sun has disappeared behind the skyscrapers. On a walnut wood tray, you light an oil lamp and some incense in the living room where three chairs and a sofa center loosely around the piano. Even if the herbal note of the sauce still lingers in the air, the familiar aftershave scent begins to become more prominent after Yoongi returns from the bathroom on the third floor. It mixes with the sage, neroli, and amber of the incense quite seamlessly, making the air thick with aroma.

"Oh, aphrodisiac," Yoongi hums, eyeing the incense box you chose from his petite collection.

"Strawberries also classify as such, don't they."

Yoongi confirms, already looseing his V-neck a bit. A bit of a tan line is visible where his collar normally is.

"We're having a good evening, Y/N."

The dishwasher thrums a bit in the background now. You put the charred matches that you used for the lamp and incense back into their little blue box.

"How about I fuck you on that piano?"

"Thought about it. But probably a safety risk and not so, uh, comfortable. I know Rule IV applies here since it's your preference, but Rule Number II and III are more important."

His face makes you coo. "That's a lot of thought you put into that, hm. Did someone fantasize?"

"One of my knightly duties is to think of ways to indulge you."

"Which other ways did you think of? I hope I could persuade you it's not boring here."

"I think you accomplished that. But it's mostly because of your presence."

"Flattering me a lot today, are you."

"By all means, you're my guest."

Again, the invisible hat tip.

"Thank you for hosting me. I really like this house. I don't say this to be polite. It really looks good."

"Oh right, the other ways!"

"Yes, tell me. I'm curious."

"There's, well— Let's see. A TV room on the basement level that has a very smooth furniture landscape, it's very easy to clean, too. Then there's the rooftop, uh, and the bathroom, third floor, with an antique tub. I sleep on the first floor, it's a plain room, however."

You ponder for a moment, then lift the oil lamp and incense on their little tray with either hand.

"We pick that one."

"The bedroom, yes?"

You're already heading toward the stairwell downwards, balancing your cargo with care so the lamp won't fade out.

"Whatever you say is plain almost always turns out to be quite spectacular."

Yoongi's cock is hard against the base of your spine. His hands shift alongside your waist a little when you gyrate back on him. The streamlined chaise longue is velvety enough to allow unrestricted movement. You face the side of the house where Yoongi's bedroom admits a broad view onto the Han River. Little car lights, illuminated bus windows, and the ubiquitous neon bling on the horizon paint the surface of the river like a movie. You imagine how its ripples and larger waves translate to your hip movement.

Whatever it does to him, Yoongi's speech center seems to have drifted off to another dimension.

"This is— I got, how's your ass, Y/N? From the pavilion. I mean!"

You purposely press your butt cheeks to either side of his erection, encompassing him. Meanwhile, your core strains on his nimble lap, enjoying its warmth.

"Still feel your dick inside. Phantom sensation. Or maybe it did break off and stayed in there. Who knows. The ways of the world."

You turn, stick your tongue out at him.

"What, uh?"

"I'm kidding. It's all normal. Anal works for me. Your dick has a good shape for it."

"Oh, eh, good. Good. That's very good. Tremendous. Yeah."

You halt your movement while he keeps on babbling and smoothing over your waist.

"Romeo."

"Hm? Yes?"

"Don't let my ass turn your brain to mush so early. We didn't have soju or anything."

"Nn—no. Right."

"And yet, my host acts drunk."

Drunk on ass.

"You're just, just so beautiful tonight."

"Maybe you're more susceptive to incense. That must be it. Aphrodisiac much. Or are there actual designer drugs in the bathroom, huh?"

The tray is quite close to the chaise longue and infuses the air with more aroma by the minute. You make a mental note of it. Yoongi's fingers at your hip and belly seek more friction now.

"I love, really love. Incense," he whispers, mouth hanging half open. "It's smoking. Hot. Like you, boss."

"M-hm. Should I torch your cock, you have to say something, though. Could melt the condom off."

You resume gyrating. Yoongi, more by chance than deliberation, starts dripping saliva on his naked chest. And there it is again.

As if by automatism, his hands wander from your hip already. Downwards.

"Don't care if you burn me. I just, wanna. Make your pussy a waterfall."

"Good thing that'll douse down your cock."

"Yes. Yes, Mistress."

"I'll see how much of a pounding your balls can take today. They have a lot of clit service to do. I like when they slap against me."

"Clit service is a secretary's favorite."

Almost parallel to his words, Yoongi's finger tips follow suit on your labia. They are a lot less eratic by now. You find yourself rutting against them in a matter of second to seize the opportunity. His hands will shake soon enough.

"We're playing nutcracker. Let's hope I don't split your two friends in quarters today. Or is that what you're going for?"

Furious nods. Yoongi's drool trickles to either side of his loins. His eyes are glossy and big, gleaming with the night life of Seoul in then at you from behind his fringe.

"AB."

You squeeze your ass onto his lap so snug, Yoongi gasps out. Dirty boss mode activated. You're flashing provocative eyes at him.

"I'll crack you apart like a passion fruit on a Santoku, you fucking greedy whore."

"Please, please, yes Y/N—"

"Gouge out the seeds. Stir it up. Make some juice for me. How's that."

"Take it. Take as much as you want."

Your palm takes the familiar spot on his girth. Good thing you always have the vein for orientation purposes.

"Can I?"

"You can."

"Roll the condom on Yoonie, it's time for a a chopping."

"I do like your floors. All of them in their own way."

Yoongi bumbles and sways in his seat as a response. You twist the incense stick into the tray's mold where most of the ashes had gathered during the evening. Outside, the glowing outlines of the skyscrapers start fading, window by window where people wander to bed equally late, headed for a rough upcoming day.

Seated at the edge of the grey box-shaped bed, half twirled into the white sheets with his legs, Yoongi finishes replying to a few emails and messages on his phone, then stores his phone under the cube-shaped nightstand, alarm clock set to 6:15 AM, and looks up.

"Glad you do."

"It's very well-designed. I bet the TV room is just as nice. Yes, my home's cozy but—"

"I do still like yours better."

"I really wanna know why you're so stubborn about this."

"It's sterile here, I just don't like it as much as I used to."

After finishing up the tray, you button down one of Yoongi's spare shirts. As most things in his wardrobe, it sports only black and white. He is intent more than ever when you sit down next to him, however, even in the dim light the emerging bags under his eyes are somewhat visible. From the nightstand, you pick up a water bottle and hand it to him.

"But, can we have our breakfast on that landscape thing you mentioned?"

"Everything is possible," Yoongi unscrews the cap. "Is there anything you want from the bakery? It's around the corner."

"If it's not Sunmi's pastry and cakes, what's the point?"

"Then I will personally call her and pay extra."

He starts drinking. You finish buttoning down the shirt. It's softer than you thought on the inside.

"I'm messing around, the bakeries in Gangnam are nice. Anything with mocha or red bean flavor, if you find something."

After placing the bottle on your side of the bed again, Yoongi takes up the sheets to slip underneath them now.

"Red bean? Definitely a good choice."

You follow, patting the extra pillow that Yoongi got from the basement into the right shape before lying down. Yoongi claps one time to switch off the light bar at the ceiling. Only Seoul's moon is left now, illuminating half of the room through the large glass front from between three skyscrapers.

"What do you like, Yoongi?" you ask, voice dulcet now. You hear him ponder for a moment.

"I think, Soboro bread."

"Because of the strawberry jam you can put on top, isn't it."

Your tone is playful. Yoongi wiggles himself into the blanket now, his legs reaching a bit to your side of the bed so you can intertwine your own with them.

"Almost. Not quite. The guess was pretty good though."

"The inside— is soft like my ass. That must be it."

Yoongi shakes his head. It ruffles his hair into the fabric of the pillow.

"Which bread can compete with your ass when it comes to softness?"

You try again.

"Okay... Is it because of the streusels is has?"

"Nope."

"Hm. Running out of guesses, honestly. One nil for you."

"The thing about Soboro bread is," he scrambles closer, ribald now. "You can fill it up with fresh cream."

"Ohh."

"It tastes the best for me that way."

"I wasn't entirely wrong about guessing it has to do with my ass."

"True. It's nil-nil again."

"Your guessing games are quite fun. We need some fresh cream for breakfast tomorrow."

"Definitely. Was fun today, too."

"Yes. Sleep well, you've been looking very tired."

"Couldn't rest last night, I was a bit nervous."

"Because I'd come here?"

"Kind of. I don't know."

Sighing out loud was not your intent. But it being so late and your body so lax, it escapes you without much of a filter.

"Come on. You don't have to be a full-time genius or whatever. That's madness. You already thought a lot about how to host me. I like all of this here. You cooked well. We had a lot of conversation. Sex was amazing. You're amazing. When it comes down to it— I don't need much. Just food, a solid roof over my head. And you. Don't worry about all the rest."

"I'll try next time. I just wasn't sure if you like it here. Even the bedroom and so."

"No, Yoongi. It's more important that you like it here. It's your home. I need to be assured you feel comfortable in your own skin, in your own life, you know. If you say it's just nice when I'm here. What happens when I'm busy elsewhere, and you're in this place feeling shitty all day? That can't be right."

Yoongi's voice turns a little shaky now.

"There are— some odd memories attached to this house, I guess."

And there it is.

Silence reigns for a minute until you clap your hands to switch on the dimmer again. The light bar illuminates the room when you sit up and look him in the eye.

"It's because of that," you say, "isn't it. Why you hesitated to go here with me."

"Yes."

"And why you said this place isn't good for us. Even though it's the most tastefully made house I've ever seen."

He sniffles a little, says nothing. You entangle your fingers with his on his chest. You see a tear well in the corner of his eye.

"I know that— I know, moving on is hard," you say, filling in the silence after another passing minute. "If you— See, there's an empty armchair in Incheon. And a cat who likes you, too. It might get a little stuffy in the garage with too cars, but, if you pack a bag after breakfast, we can be right there after work already. I'm serious now. You need to get the fuck out of here. I see how you look at the statues. This is suffocating you. If you'd rather sit on my porch with me right now instead of lying in your damn own designer bed, then we both know where it is best for us. If you hate the house, I'll start hating it, too. We'll stay in Incheon."

"Can I really do that, Y/N?"

"We'll somehow get the piano over there as well. I'll call up Orbit Five, they have a service for that. It's of no use if you don't feel well here. Things won't get better just because I'm around. We could ask Taemin to check up on your house if that's okay. I mean he lives close, he passes Cheongdam every morning. I'd be happy to host dinner for two tomorrow night. And— the day after tomorrow. How often you feel like it. Okay? Say something."

"It's okay with me."

"You don't have to force yourself through this here to accomodate me, and think the new memories will overwrite shit from the past. I shouldn't have asked about visiting your house so much. I really thought you genuinely didn't think it was worth it because it would be too lackluster to bother or something. Should have seen the warning signs."

"No, it's alright. I can pack some things together. I'm sorry for this. But maybe you're right."

"Don't apologize. My apartment is nice enough for three. I look after the details."

"I'll cook the dinner. Taemin gets my front door code."

"Alright. Just so you know. We'll take it easy after work."

You slide your hand out of his now.

"Thank you again. I don't take it for granted."

"I'm looking forward to dinner."

"Me, too."

"Sleep now, we'll bother with the rest tomorrow."

One clap and the light bar fades into the obscure of the ceiling again. Outside, the city smog has waned. Stars, billions of them, some bright, some barely visible, some twinkling, some stark, splatter on the ecliptic rising from behind the river and skyline.

"You're the best, Y/N."

"Life is like chess. Where there's a knight, there's also a queen."

"Who's king? The cat?"

"SeoulTec."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"We talk at work. I'd fuck you to sleep but it's getting too late by now. Can't do anything."

"Oh right, Rule Number V."

You nod, then press a kiss on his forehead.

"Good night, Romeo. Don't sweat things. I'll handle this."

The jacuzzi keeps on bubbling and chortling. To your ears, Sunmi's Honda engine sounds tame compared to it. Yoongi however finds it amusing how the old ghastly pump rattles around and makes the brim of the entire contruction vibrate. At the push of a button, you activate the water nozzles to whirl the water back and forth a little while you both try to balance tall, chalice-shaped glasses above the water, scooping strawberry sorbet out of it.

"Let's hope the cat doesn't get curious again. She hopped in here last time I was trying to relax. One wet pussy is enough in here."

Yoongi can't swallow properly and almost gets some sorbet in his airways from laughing.

"She even tipped over the shampoo bottle. Into the water! Took five days until she started to smell like actual cat again," you go on, stirring the sundae a bit.

"It wasn't something like— passion fruit shampoo, then?"

"No, a perfumed one. Nasty stuff when you use too much of it."

"Oh god."

"Oh cat you mean! Christie. She's one of a kind."

You raise your brows into the direction where her little basket is tucked into a corner. Yoongi finishes up his sorbet and seems to look a little serious by then.

"About that... Can I ask you a question?" he says.

"Well, anything."

"It might be a little, say, private."

He fiddles with his spoon.

You let your legs float with the pulse of the water nozzles quite casually.

"We may or may not be in my private realms here at Incheon, Cheonseok Road fifteen. Let me in your life and such."

"Well, uh. I don't want to embarrass you with it. But I have to ask."

“Yes?"

"You said Christie... Is that related to Christie S. Kwon? Someone signed up on my website. With that name. I—"

Now you're the one to cough up on the sorbet.

You completely forgot about that.

The subscription.

You reach out of the jacuzzi to put the empty sorbet chalice down, and gather yourself.

"That, yes. Is my online alter ego."

"Oh!"

“Say, um, I got inspired by the cat. You know I was a bit undercover, you know myself. I was researching about the Six Rules and such. Just, being discreet with it. I couldn't possibly pick my own name."

Yoongi shrugs.

"Yes, that's no problem? I was just wondering if there was a connection."

You breathe out the relief now.

"But, how did you actually get a sense it was related? Can't pride myself with a software safety premise when I'm that transparent just making an account.”

The corner of Yoongi's mouth rise into a lingering crescent now. He licks the sorbet from the corners of his lips.

“Taehyung. He has the exact same sunrise picture at his desk. As a greeting card, I guess. Or some photograph with your name on it.”

You have to laugh. Of course. The sunrise. Taehyung, forever the nostalgic, never bothers removing old cards from his pinboard.

"Oh gosh. That was 2014 when we formed the team. You want cards, too? Everybody gets one now and then, I make them myself."

"That sounds nice. Sure thing! I've been planning to personalize the secretary room anyways, with some things here and there."

"Ah, that fits."

"You're a good influence for my taste in things. The sunrise icon struck me in the first place because it was well-shot."

"By the way. Am very happy with my subscription. Good site."

"Any plans to prolong the subscription? It has to be renewed every now and then, just for the algorithm."

"Rule Number VI applies here."

"Choose well and commit."

"Your file has proven to be immaculate in every detail."

"Then, happy birthday, boss. I'll be your trophy boyfriend."

do not repost, modify, or translate without permission. mentioned car brands: No endorsements, infringements, tarnishments, and dilutions intended. they are for descriptive purposes only. © 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved.

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