Krosmetics Headquarters
Morning
Ukraine stepped into the building with a plan already forming.
The marketing department was on the fifth floor.
The president's office was on the sixth.
He was the only one waiting for the elevator that morning, and as he stood there with his bag hanging from one shoulder, one reckless idea slid into his head with such ease that by the time the elevator doors opened, he had already surrendered to it.
He stepped inside and pressed the button for the sixth floor.
"I'll just say hi to her and leave," he told himself.
His shoes bumped lightly against the elevator floor in an impatient rhythm. He looked ridiculous, he knew that, but he was too excited by the stupidity of what he was doing to care.
The elevator reached the sixth floor.
He stepped out and headed straight toward the CEO's office, ignoring the glances from employees who probably thought he had lost his mind. Maybe he had.
He was only a few steps from the door when it suddenly opened.
Kro walked out.
Ukraine's heart, which had been going thump-thump all the way up, instantly switched to bang-bang in his chest. He jumped behind a nearby pillar so quickly it almost hurt his dignity.
Please don't come this way, he begged silently. Please don't come this way.
Her footsteps moved.
Not toward him.
He risked a careful look.
From where he stood, he could see Kro speaking to a woman in a fitted green skirt suit. The woman was shorter, neat, attentive, and nodded at everything Kro said with the eager obedience of someone very new to the job.
The new PA.
Ukraine's stomach dropped.
Seeing her standing where he used to stand hurt more than he had prepared for. It made everything final in a way that office orders and department transfers had not.
He had been replaced.
Since Kro's back was turned in his direction, it was his chance to escape. Ukraine hurried back to the elevator, almost relieved to find other employees already stepping inside. He slipped in with them, pressed the button for the fifth floor, and stood silently behind everyone else.
He stared at the brushed steel wall and let hopelessness settle around him in peace.
...
Damaki
Song was not expecting company that early.
He was certainly not expecting his mother.
He hadn't even fully woken up when she arrived. He was still in his sleeping robe, his hair messy, his face not yet arranged into the careful composure he wore for the world.
The scar on the right side of his neck was exposed.
It ran harsh and pale against his skin, large enough to make people believe a blade had once found him there. But it had not. He had been born with it, and as he grew, the scar had grown with him. It was his greatest insecurity. The reason he always wore high collars, dark scarves, neck-covering shirts.
He hurried to the front door and opened it.
His mother swept past him immediately.
"What took you so long?"
Song yawned behind his hand as he shut the door and followed her inside.
"I was still in bed."
Vida did not respond.
She crossed the sitting room, set her bag carefully on the table, and seated herself on the black sofa at the center of the room.
Song stopped.
That sofa was his.
His seat.
His private throne in the house.
He hated when people sat there.
But the moment he saw the way she crossed one leg over the other and settled into it with absolute authority, he understood that she was not here as his mother.
She was here as something else.
The head of the mission.
"Sit down," she said.
Song obeyed.
"Do you know why I'm here?" she asked.
"I don't know. But I assume it concerns the mission."
"Good." Vida's eyes sharpened. "Can you guess why I came to discuss it alone with you?"
Song shook his head.
"No, Mother, I—"
"No." Her tone cut cleanly across his. "The person sitting in front of you is Vida. Head of this mission."
Song felt his stomach drop.
Okay. I'm fucked.
"Yes, boss."
"Good. Then perhaps you'd like to explain the mission within the mission."
He had always known this day might come.
But he had also always known that no force on earth would make him confess the truth about Kro.
Not even this woman.
"Permission to say I don't know what you mean," he replied carefully.
Vida smiled without warmth. "You're saying the person who informed me lied."
"Correct."
"You know what I do to people who waste my time with false information. Are you saying I should do that to the one who spoke?"
"Do whatever you believe is wise, boss."
Vida leaned back. "Aren't you worried about him, Song?"
He held still. "Why would I be?"
Her gaze did not move from his face.
"It's Ukraine. Your son."
That nearly cracked him.
But only nearly.
He forced himself not to react, though he could feel the fear sliding down his spine.
"Permission to explain," he said, voice tighter now.
"You may."
Song lowered his gaze just enough to look respectful instead of frightened.
"I went to Ukraine's office once to supervise the mission. This is his first time investigating someone… unnatural. I knew he was nervous. I only wanted to reassure him. If he misunderstood my intentions, then I apologize. Personally. And on his behalf."
Vida studied him for several seconds.
Then said:
"On your knees."
Song closed his eyes once.
"Yes, boss."
He knelt.
He was nearly in his mid-sixties, and yet here he was, kneeling before his own mother like a child who had failed her standards again.
"Slap yourself," Vida said. "Five times."
Song's jaw flexed.
"Yes, boss."
"And with each slap, recite our virtues."
He inhaled slowly, deeply, hating every breath.
Then he raised his hand and brought it down hard across his own face.
"Duty."
Again.
"Power."
Harder.
"Honor."
Again.
"Family."
The ring on his finger cut into his cheek.
One final blow.
"Blood."
The room rang in his ears.
His face burned. A thin line of blood marked the place where the ring had bitten into skin. His jaw ached from clenching too hard.
Vida rose.
She approached him and lifted his chin between thumb and forefinger, her nail pressing into his skin.
"Now, now," she murmured. "Wipe that furious look off your face."
Song said nothing.
"What you just did," she continued, "was only punishment for wasting my time."
Her voice dropped.
"If I find out Ukraine was telling the truth… I don't know what I'll do with you."
Song forced his face into submission.
"I understand. Thank you, Mom."
She let go of him, picked up her bag, and walked out as gracefully as though she had only come by for tea.
The door closed behind her.
Song stayed kneeling for a second longer.
Then he nearly screamed.
He was a grown man. A man past youth, past innocence, past the age where fear of a parent should still have power over him.
And yet Vida could still reduce him to this.
He hated it.
Hated her.
Hated the part of himself that still wanted her approval after all these years and still never received it.
...
Azaradan
Midnight
The maid slipped out of the kitchen like a shadow.
She looked over her shoulder every few steps, making sure no one followed her. The palace was quiet at that hour, but quiet was never safe. Not in a place full of servants, guards, and secrets.
She reached the great tree near the palace well.
That was the place.
She stopped in front of it and bowed.
Then, in a low whisper, she began her report.
"He asked her to stay in the bath chamber while he bathed. Tonight he ordered only one plate of rice and small portions of side dishes… but two spoons. He shared his dinner with her."
She stepped closer.
"I heard them speaking. Captain Kro seemed uncomfortable with the way he was treating her. The crown prince asked her to be his friend."
She swallowed.
"And this afternoon, they met outside the palace. They were not alone. Kenna was with them."
The maid bowed again.
"That is all."
Then she hurried away without another word, vanishing back into the darkness toward the kitchens before anyone could notice her absence.
A moment later, General Qin stepped out from the opposite side of the tree.
His fists were clenched so tightly the knuckles looked pale even in the dark.
Rage burned in his eyes.
The one thing he had prayed to avoid had already begun.
Kro was slipping.
Or perhaps worse—
Buk was reaching her.
"So," he said into the night, "you failed to respect me after all, Kro."
His voice turned colder.
"You leave me with no choice but to become the bad man sooner than I planned."
He strode away from the tree, his steps hard and swift.
The beast inside him, quiet for too long, had begun to wake.
...
Present
Krosmetics Headquarters — Evening
"Have a good evening, everyone," Sue said on her way out. "See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, MD!"
"See you!"
The office emptied in cheerful waves.
Misaki stopped by Ukraine's desk for their usual last conversation before heading home. They both had separate plans that night, so there would be no dinner together.
Ukraine had just ended a phone call. He slipped the phone into his jeans pocket, picked up his bag, and started toward the exit with her.
"One week until the team dinner with the president," Misaki said. "Excited?"
Ukraine almost smiled. "I think I actually am."
They reached the ground floor, still half-lost in casual conversation, when his eyes landed on something outside the glass doors.
Kro.
She was getting into her car.
And standing a careful distance away from her was the new personal assistant, waiting for the driver to leave before following.
Ukraine stopped walking.
Completely.
He couldn't force himself to take another step.
Misaki noticed the silence first, then the absence of his footsteps. She turned and found him staring.
When she followed his gaze, she understood at once.
The new PA.
Kro's car.
The distance between the old and the new.
"If you can't even face her right now," Misaki said gently, walking back toward him, "are you sure you'll be okay at the team dinner?"
"It's not that," Ukraine said.
He kept his eyes on the car.
"I was just deciding something."
Misaki folded her arms, "And what did you decide?"
Ukraine turned to her slowly.
"Remember the question I asked you yesterday? When we were having drinks?"
"I do."
"I was talking about Kro."
"I know."
He inhaled. "And I think I'm about to become the worst person in this building."
Misaki's eyebrows rose in amused alarm.
That sounded dangerous.
"What are you planning, buddy?"
Ukraine looked toward the doors again.
Then back at her.
"I need your help."
Misaki narrowed her eyes.
"Tell me the plan first. Then I'll decide whether I'm helping."
Ukraine did not hesitate.
"I want that PA gone."
Misaki blinked.
He continued, voice low and absolute.
"I want her to quit. Or worse—get fired."
That was enough to make Misaki step closer.
She looked him straight in the eye.
"Ukraine," she said, "tell me the truth. Do you like Miss Kro?"
He opened his mouth.
She shook her head.
"No. Wrong question. Do you love her?"
His expression gave him away before his words could.
"That's why you're doing this, isn't it?" Misaki said, almost delighted now. "You want to be close to her again. Or maybe you don't even understand what you feel yet, and you want another chance to figure it out."
Ukraine said nothing.
Which was answer enough.
Then he asked quietly:
"If that is my reason… will you help me?"
Misaki stared at him for another second.
Then her whole face brightened.
"Of course I will."
She was grinning now.
"We can definitely try to make the PA quit. But first, I need to know more about her. If she truly needs that job, then this gets complicated."
"Fair."
"And if this plan backfires," Misaki added, extending her fist toward him, "I don't know you."
Ukraine gave a tired little smile and bumped his fist lightly against hers.
"Deal."
And just like that, the conspiracy began.
***