The air in Namjoon's office was colder than usual, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones. Ji-sung was kneeling before the polished mahogany desk, his trembling hands clutching a crumpled letter.
"Please, sir," he begged, voice cracking. "You have to help me. I can't live like this."
Namjoon set the resignation letter aside with deliberate calm, the faintest smirk curling at the edge of his lips. "Why should I help you," he said softly, "when you couldn't even help yourself?"
"I made a mistake, sir. I swear, I don't know how he found out—"
"The deal was simple," Namjoon interrupted, leaning back in his chair. "Complete the task, and I give you your own branch. You fail…" His gaze sharpened, cold and cutting.
"Please," Ji-sung whispered, eyes glistening. "Just one more chance."
Namjoon stood, walking around the desk until he was eye-level with him. He crouched slightly, voice low but merciless.
"You're lucky I'm feeling generous today," he said, resting a hand on Ji-sung's shoulder. "Otherwise, I would've erased your name from existence."
He gave a small pat, too soft to be comforting and straightened his suit jacket. "Clean up your mess. And get out."
Ji-sung stayed frozen on the floor as Namjoon walked out, the echo of his footsteps filling the empty room. The letter slipped from Ji-sung's hands, fluttering to the ground beside him.
---
Few moments later
Namjoon's car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the hotel café, the kind that pretended to be casual but charged like royalty. Morning light poured through the tall windows, catching on the marble floors and glinting off gold-trimmed menus. The world outside moved at its own pace, but inside, time bent around the people who could afford to waste it.
He adjusted his cuffs, slipped on his sunglasses, and stepped out. He hadn't slept properly in days, the faint shadows beneath his eyes betrayed that, but Namjoon was too practiced to let fatigue touch his posture. Power demanded poise, even when it was built on ashes.
"Sir," his assistant murmured, falling into step beside him, "Ms. Seo-ra's attorney confirmed she's already inside."
Namjoon's tone was calm, detached. "Did she say why she wanted to meet in person?"
"Only that it was… personal."
A faint exhale. "Personal," he repeated softly, almost amused.
Inside, Seo-ra was already waiting, flawless as ever, her hair twisted into a loose wave that framed her porcelain features. But under the makeup, there were cracks: faint tremors in her hands, a tiredness around her eyes. Once, he'd found that fragility endearing. Now it just looked like guilt.
She smirked sipping her coffee as he approached, "I didn't think you'd come," she purred.
Namjoon checked his watch, expression unreadable. "You have five minutes."
Seo-ra let out a low, humorless laugh. "That's the problem, isn't it? You never cared. You destroyed this marriage long before I did."
He met her gaze, steady and cold. "Marriage? That was a contract, Seo-ra. And I'm simply terminating it."
Her smile faltered. "You actually think I'll sign those papers?"
"You don't have much of a choice."
"You think so?" she shot back, masking her trembling hands beneath the table.
"Would you like to test that theory?" His voice didn't rise, it didn't need to. The quiet certainty was sharper than any threat.
He turned slightly. "Bring it," he said to his assistant.
A sleek tablet was placed before Seo-ra on a silver tray, its screen already unlocked.
Namjoon leaned back, arms crossed. "Go ahead. Have a look."
Her throat tightened. "What is this?"
"It's right in front of you," he said simply. Then, with a cruel softness, "I wouldn't play it here if I were you. The sound might draw attention."
She froze, fingers trembling as her reflection stared back from the glossy black screen.
"For someone who claimed to fight for her marriage," he continued, voice low and cutting, "you had an impressive nightlife. Texts. Transfers. Videos. So many videos." He tilted his head slightly, studying her as if she were a specimen. "You really thought you could erase them?"
Her voice cracked despite her effort to steady it. "How did you find all this?"
He smirked fulfilled, "the question is what should I do with them?."
Seo-ra's lips parted, the faintest tremor breaking through her composure. "What are you planning to do?"
Namjoon stood, buttoning his jacket with the same calm precision he'd had when he entered. "You already know what to do," he said. "Sign the papers. Save what's left of your dignity."
He leaned closer, his voice a whisper meant only for her. "And keep that copy. Think of it as… a reminder. I have several backups, enough to make sure the world never forgets you."
He straightened, gave her one last unreadable glance, and turned to leave.
As the door closed behind him, Seo-ra sat frozen, the tablet still in front of her, her reflection fractured by the faint light of the screen. Somewhere deep in her chest, fear twisted into fury. She smacked her hands loud against the table drawing everyone's attention.
"It's not over yet, I'm going to make you pay for humiliating me like this" she said breathing heavily, "you would pay".