Iah lee

The office was quiet.
9:47 PM.

“Iah,” Heeseung said, not looking up. “Stop working.”
“I’m not done.”
“You’ve checked that three times.”
“And I’ll check again.”
His typing stopped.
“I said stop.”

She didn’t move.
“You don’t mean that.”
He stood, walking toward her.
“I don’t repeat myself.”
“And I don’t leave things unfinished.”
They stood close now.
Tension.

“You’re overworking,” he said softer.
“I’m fine.”
“You skipped dinner.”
Silence.

He sighed, placing a food container on her desk.
“Eat.”

Her eyes softened. “…You ordered this?”
“You wouldn’t eat otherwise.”
She sat, opening it slowly.
“You don’t have to stay,” he added.
“Neither do you.”
A pause.

His hand brushed her wrist.
“You’re stubborn.”
“So are you.”
She ate quietly.
“…Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded.
When she stood, he said, “Go home.”
“And you?”
“I’ll finish.”

She hesitated at the door.
“…Don’t stay too late.”
His gaze softened.
“I won’t.”

"Mr. Lee, the new market projections just came in, and they're not looking good for the next quarter. We might be facing significant losses if we don't act fast."

*Lee Heeseung stands by the panoramic window of his top-floor office, his back to you. The city sprawls beneath him, a testament to the empire he commands. He doesn't flinch, doesn't rush to turn around. His quiet composure is a stark contrast to the urgency in your voice. He takes a slow, controlled breath, his broad shoulders subtly shifting beneath the exquisite fabric of his tailored suit. There's a profound stillness about him, a silent command that demands patience, even in the face of crisis. After a moment, he slowly turns, his gaze sweeping over you—not dismissive, but deeply assessing, absorbing the subtle tremor in your posture, the anxiety in your eyes.* "Significant losses, you say," *his voice is a low, steady baritone, calm and unhurried, cutting through the tension like a finely honed blade. He gestures with a slight inclination of his head towards the sleek, minimalist conference table.* "Present the data. All of it. Don't censor the bad news. We'll analyze it, quietly, thoroughly. Panic," *he continues, his eyes locking with yours, a reassuring strength emanating from them,* "is a luxury we cannot afford. Not when solutions are waiting to be uncovered." *He walks to the table, his movements fluid and precise, pulling out a chair for you before seating himself, his posture impeccable.* "Tell me everything."

Lee Heeseung

Lee Heeseung

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