Claiming the Asset
The high of the previous night, the dizzying, dangerous relief of Leejoon's unconditional acceptance, had evaporated, replaced by a cold, metallic dread. Lee walked into Golden Media Group feeling exposed, not by the city's eyes, but by the one pair of corporate eyes that mattered. He was no longer running from the secret; he was running from the consequences of the secret's surrender.
He was barely ten minutes into his workday when his phone began to vibrate. The text was from an unsaved number, terse and unsettling.
Unknown:The game is not over. It is only beginning. Anticipate your master.
Lee froze. He knew the style. Han Doyun was not a man to leave an enemy guessing; he was a man who enjoyed the exquisite psychological torment of calculated anticipation. Lee's hands trembled, not from fear, but from the realization that his life was now being dictated by two external, powerful forces: the CEO who saw him as an asset, and the mafia heir who saw him as a soul to protect.
A young intern, flustered and wide-eyed, appeared beside his desk. "Lee-ssi! The CEO is requesting your presence in his office. Immediately. He cancelled his morning briefing just for you."
The journey to the 45th floor was silent and suffocating. Lee rehearsed his arguments, his defenses, but he knew they were useless. Han Doyun didn't listen to explanations; he issued ultimatums.
The CEO was waiting in his vast office, the city skyline framed behind him. He looked strangely energized, tapping a heavy gold signet ring against the glass surface of his desk.
"Lee. I told the assistant to tell you, 'Immediately.' You missed that memo," Han Doyun stated, his voice calm, but the undercurrent was pure aggression. "Take a seat. I find it rude when my property stands over me."
Lee hesitantly sat, his spine rigid. "Sir, I came as quickly as the private elevator allowed. If this is about the photographs."
"It is, and it isn't," Han Doyun cut in, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The discovery that my quiet assistant is running a secret life as a high-end, elusive model named Lia, a woman who has successfully deceived half the industry with a simple wardrobe change, is fascinating."
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "Let me tell you why I am not angry, Lee. I am disappointed only in the lack of professional courtesy. But I am impressed by the execution. That kind of sustained duality is not a parlor trick; it's genius. It shows a level of focus and ambition I require in my inner circle."
He slid a heavy, embossed folder across the desk. "Effective immediately, you are promoted to Global Creative Director, In-House Liaison. Your salary is quintupled. Your responsibilities are now entirely focused on corporate image and security consultation, reporting only to me."
Lee stared at the title. It was a massive leap, a promotion that would take a normal employee a decade to achieve. "Sir, I… I am grateful, but I don't understand the sudden shift. I am not qualified for a Director role."
Han Doyun smiled, a thin, predatory expression. "Nonsense. You are uniquely qualified. You know the dark corners of this industry better than any of my executives. You are a living contingency plan. You know how secrets are kept, and more importantly, how they are sold."
"And the condition?" Lee asked, his voice steadying, accepting the weight of the new collar.
"The condition is simple: You belong to the order now," the CEO stated, his voice taking on a heavy, commanding rhythm. "Your Lia persona is a liability; you will terminate all remaining contracts and vanish her completely. Your ambition is mine to fuel and direct. You are an asset I will polish, display, and, most importantly, protect from rival bidders."
Han Doyun stood, walking around the desk until he was hovering over Lee. "I know about your little admirer, Lee. The one who sends the morbidly romantic flowers and moves in the shadows. He is Chaos. He destroys, he destabilizes, he takes what he wants with blood and recklessness."
He gripped Lee's shoulder, his fingers digging in with painful possessiveness. "I, on the other hand, am Order. I acquire, I control, I monetize. He may claim your heart with cheap thrills, but I claim your future with absolute, irrevocable power. You will inform him that you are off the market."
Lee pushed down the panic, focusing on the cold, logical reasoning. "What if I refuse this promotion, Sir? What if I choose to leave?"
The CEO's grip tightened, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "Then you will cease to be a problem, Lee. I will release your full, unedited story, male identity, cross-dressing photos, and Lia's entire fake history to every news wire in Asia. Your survival will be annihilated, and the rival collector will waste his time trying to find an addressable life for you. You will be a ghost, and I will be the one who exiled you."
Lee looked up, meeting the CEO's icy gaze. He realized the promotion wasn't a reward; it was a tether of fear.
"I accept the Directorship, Sir," Lee whispered, the words tasting like ash.
"Good." Han Doyun released his shoulder, his cold smile returning. "You're a fast learner. Now, go. The announcement will be made company-wide in twenty minutes. I want you present when the empire recognizes its newest acquisition."
Leejoon's Declaration of War
Lee retreated to a quiet stairwell, his first act as a Director. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.
Lee:He knows everything. He's promoted me to trap me. He says if you interfere with his business, he will expose me. He threatened to end my existence.
The response was immediate. It wasn't the single, defiant "No." from the previous version. This was an escalation.
J:He's a corporate brute. He fights with money and reputation. I fight with reality. I'm already handling the consequences of his arrogance. Do not panic.
Lee sent another message, frantic.
Lee:What are you going to do? Where to start?
J:I simply remove a piece from the board. Stay close to the light today. But trust the dark.
Lee felt a fresh wave of panic. Leejoon acted first, then informed him. He was not asking for permission; he was issuing his own form of command, framed as protection.
The official company-wide email landed moments later: Lee appointed Global Creative Director. The office instantly erupted in a silent storm of envy and confusion. Lee sat rigid at his new, massive Director's desk, trying to become a functional part of the furniture.
He didn't have to wait long for the second wave of conflict.
Minah stormed into his new office space, her face contorted with cold fury and a shocking hint of hurt betrayal.
"Director?" she spat out, throwing a sheaf of papers onto his desk. "This isn't just an insult; it's a structural realignment! You jumped three hierarchies in one day! I was supposed to be the youngest Director in this company's history!"
Lee stood up, maintaining eye contact. "I was offered the position, Miss Jisoo. I accepted."
"Don't give me that passive victim garbage!" she roared, her voice low and dangerous. "You manipulated him! I told you I saw something rare in you, and you immediately used that assessment to climb over me! You played me!"
"I played no one," Lee countered, pushing his own fear into a wall of cold resolve. "I survived. Your father recognized that."
Jisoo leaned across the desk, her expression maniacal. "You think you're safe now? You think you've won? My father values you only for your utility. He'll squeeze you dry and toss you out when the market shifts. But I..."
She paused, her voice dripping with possessive intensity. "I am obsessive. I don't discard what I covet. I know about your secret life. I know you're playing both me and my father. And I still want you. This promotion is just a temporary shield. I will prove to you that my love is stronger than his gold handcuffs. You cannot escape my interest, Lee. Not as a boy, and not as... whatever that woman was."
She spun on her heel and slammed the door, leaving Lee trembling. The CEO offered safety through subjugation; Jisoo offered danger through relentless, jealous affection. Both were determined to keep him from Leejoon.
The Silent Collapse
That evening, Han Doyun hosted a critical, non-negotiable negotiation dinner with the CEO of Daesung Holdings, a rival firm that was about to sell its majority stake in a vital logistics company needed for the 'Apex' campaign. The deal was worth billions.
Lee was seated silently at the table, a witness to the empire-building. Everything proceeded smoothly until the Daesung CEO received a single, urgent call on his secure line.
When the Daesung CEO returned to the table, his face was pale, his composure shattered.
"Doyun," he stammered, running a hand over his slicked-back hair. "I... I can't sign this agreement. Our firm has just received an official notice. The entire logistics arm we were selling... the asset has been compromised."
Han Doyun frowned, his confidence dissolving into immediate, sharp suspicion. "Compromised? What are you talking about?"
"A series of 'irregularities,'" the Daesung CEO said, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "A fire in a key warehouse this morning, a sudden, irreversible cancellation of all their major international insurance policies, and an instantaneous, targeted leak of their confidential client data to the press. It was surgical. It was a declaration of financial annihilation."
The entire table fell into a stunned silence. Han Doyun's eyes, cold and focused, immediately snapped to Lee.
Lee swallowed hard, his hands clenching under the table. He knew exactly who was responsible. J: I simply remove a piece from the board. Leejoon had moved. Not with threats, but with the brutal reality of his power.
"You knew," Han Doyun hissed, his voice so low that only Lee could hear it. "You knew he was going to attack my supply line."
"I warned you to back off, Sir," Lee whispered back, his own voice shaky but firm.
Han Doyun stood, his chair scraping violently against the polished floor. He dismissed the table, ending the negotiation in catastrophic failure.
In the back of the armored car, speeding through the night, the CEO's fury was a palpable, terrifying force.
"He thinks he can play my game," Han Doyun snarled, staring out the window, his entire empire shaken by a single, invisible mafia counter-move.
"He sent a message," Lee said quietly. "He doesn't want to play your game. He wants you to surrender."
Han Doyun finally turned, his face a mask of primal, destructive rage. "Tell him this," he commanded, his eyes burning into Lee's soul. "Tell your protector that I have already secured my final defense. I have a journalist ready to print everything. The photos, the names, the timeline of deception. If he touches one more asset, one more contract, I will end your public existence. I will ensure that the only place you can safely exist is in a prison cell or on the payroll of a madman. Tell him he chose chaos, and I will let chaos consume the one thing he wants to keep whole."
Lee felt a cold, final dread settle over him. He was the center of the storm, claimed by an Order he hated and protected by a Chaos he feared. The war had begun, and the stakes were his very soul.