The morning air at the Lian estate was usually as still as a graveyard, but today, the silence was shattered by the sound of a high-revving engine echoing up the driveway.
Lian sat in the breakfast nook, his eyes fixed on a tablet displaying the global shipping manifests he had seized from the logistics branch. He hadn't slept. The encounter with Jin-Ho at the clinic was playing on a loop in his mind, a glitch in his otherwise perfect software. He could still feel the phantom heat of the man's hand near his face—a sensation that made his skin crawl and his heart stutter.
"Lian, you're not eating again."
He didn't look up. His mother was hovering nearby, her face a map of cautious worry. Since the night of his panic attack, the family treated him like unexploded ordnance—half in awe of his sudden brilliance, half terrified of the trigger.
"I am fueled by results, Mother, not toast," Lian said, his voice a flat, melodic drone.
Before she could respond, the heavy front doors swung open. Hao-Ran entered, looking uncharacteristically flustered, followed by a man who seemed to bring the very sun into the gloomy hallway.
"Father! We have a guest," Hao-Ran called out, his voice echoing. "He says he has a proposal regarding the new tech-merger."
Lian's fingers froze on the screen. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The air in the room suddenly changed—it felt charged, electric, and smelled of that same rain-and-tobacco scent.
"Good morning, everyone!"
Jin-Ho stepped into the breakfast room as if he owned the title deed to the house. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored cream suit, his hair swept back with effortless charm. He looked every bit the "Cunning Fox"—eyes bright, scanning the room, and landing on Lian with a predatory gleam.
Feng hurried into the room, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Mr. Jin? I wasn't expecting the CEO of Nebula Holdings to visit personally. To what do we owe the honor?"
Lian's eyes narrowed. CEO of Nebula Holdings. He knew the name. Nebula was a ghost company in the tech world—fast, aggressive, and impossibly wealthy. Just like its owner.
"Oh, call me Jin-Ho," the man said, flashing a grin that made Mrs. Lian blush. "I was just passing by and realized I had some... unfinished business with your youngest son. We met briefly at the... ah, the 'business district' last night."
Lian stood up slowly. The chair screeched against the marble floor—a sound of war. "We have no business, Mr. Jin. You must be mistaken."
"Mistaken?" Jin-Ho walked closer, ignoring the invisible 'No Entry' sign that Lian radiated. He stopped exactly three feet away—the edge of Lian's personal "kill zone." "I never forget a face. Especially one as... memorable as yours, Lian-ah."
The informal suffix '-ah' hit Lian like a slap. His family gasped. No one, not even his brothers, dared to be so informal with the new, icy Lian.
"You are intruding on a private meal," Lian said, his voice dropping an octave.
"I'm here to offer a partnership," Jin-Ho said, his tone shifting from playful to sharp in a heartbeat. He looked at Feng. "Lian Logistics is currently a sinking ship. My company has the software to patch the holes. But I'll only sign the deal if Lian here is my direct liaison. I find his... 'traditional' methods fascinating."
Feng looked between the two, his greed warring with his confusion. "Lian? You know Mr. Jin?"
"We are acquaintances," Jin-Ho answered for him, leaning in. He noticed the way Lian's knuckles were white as he gripped the table. He noticed the slight tremor in Lian's breath. "Though I'm hoping to become much more. I have a lot to learn from a 'Saint' like him."
Lian felt the Haphephobia flare. The proximity of this man was like standing near a furnace. He felt the urge to strike, to use the martial skills he had honed in blood, but he was trapped by the presence of his family.
"I don't partner with foxes," Lian hissed.
"And I don't partner with statues," Jin-Ho countered, his voice a low hum meant only for Lian's ears. "But I'm willing to make an exception for a King who hides in the slums."
Jin-Ho suddenly reached out, not to touch Lian's skin, but to pick up a strawberry from Lian's plate. He popped it into his mouth, his eyes locked onto Lian's with a mocking challenge.
"Sweet," Jin-Ho whispered. "A bit cold, but sweet."
Lian's vision blurred for a second. The audacity was so extreme it bypassed his anger and hit a wall of pure, unadulterated annoyance. This man was a chaos factor. He was a ray of light that was purposely trying to burn Lian's carefully constructed shadows.
"Lian," Feng said, his voice stern. "If Nebula is offering a merger, you will take the meeting. This is for the family."
Lian looked at his father, then back at Jin-Ho, who was now winking at Ji-Min. He realized then that Jin-Ho wasn't just here for business. He was here to poke at the cracks in Lian's armor. He was here to win a game Lian hadn't even agreed to play.
"Fine," Lian said, his voice like cracking glass. "The meeting is in my study. Five minutes. If you're late, the deal is dead."
As Lian turned to leave, Jin-Ho's voice followed him, bright and annoying. "Five minutes? Oh, I can do a lot in five minutes, Little Phoenix!"
Lian slammed his study door so hard the paintings in the hallway rattled. He stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his hand instinctively going to his throat.
'He knows,' Lian thought, the loneliness he usually cherished now feeling like a cage. 'He sees the Saint, the King, and the Boy. And he's not afraid of any of them.'
He didn't know whether to kill Jin-Ho or hire him. But for the first time in this life, Lian wasn't thinking about the past. He was thinking about the man who was currently humming a pop song on the other side of his door.