The cupid ELEVATOR.

12 DAYS PAST

It had been 12 days since Jooyeon started working at Daeun Corporation. Despite the stressful environment, he quickly adapted by studying the president's preferences and ensuring every task he handled met her exacting standards. His diligence earned him no praise-only the absence of her wrath, which he took as a silent victory.

"Not enough originality," the president snapped, flipping through a portfolio of designs. Her voice was cold but controlled, each word deliberate. "This layout looks like it was copied from last season's catalog. I need innovation, not recycled ideas."

The design team shifted uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances. Jooyeon stood just behind her chair, holding a clipboard stacked with reports, his gaze fixed on her every move.

She turned to another report and raised a brow. "These projections for raw material costs—did no one think to account for the recent market fluctuations? This will ruin our budget halfway through production. Redo it, and this time, consult someone who actually understands numbers."

Her words cut through the room, and the finance team visibly wilted under her icy gaze.

As she moved to the next section, her expression hardened further. "And this. who approved these mockups?" She held up a sleek yet impractical model of their new product line, her manicured fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "Do you think we're a luxury brand or a fast-fashion chain? It's visually appealing but entirely out of sync with our target audience. Adjust the design to balance cost-effectiveness and appeal, and have it back on my desk by tomorrow morning."

Jooyeon scanned the table at the faces. Most of the executives looked as if they wished to shrink into their chairs, while a few furiously scribbled notes.

The president leaned back in her chair, her piercing gaze sweeping the room. "Listen carefully. Every single one of you is here because you're supposed to be the best at what you do. Yet, these mistakes suggest otherwise. If you can't meet expectations, I will find someone who can."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing down on everyone.

Yuna, the general manager, cleared her throat and spoke up cautiously. "President Min, I've been working closely with the design and procurement teams. I'll personally oversee the revisions and ensure they align with your expectations."

The president nodded slightly, her approval subtle but noticeable. "Good. At least someone here is capable of taking responsibility."

Jooyeon couldn't help but admire her commanding presence. Despite the pressure she exerted, her leadership was undeniably effective. Every critique she made was precise and left no room for argument.

After nearly two hours, the meeting concluded. The executives stood, bowed deeply, and exited the room one by one, murmuring among themselves as they left.

"That was intense," one of them sighed.

"Yeah, the overseas project has everyone on edge. And the president. she's sharper than ever."

"Did you notice the new guy? Her secretary? He's like a shadow, always hovering behind her."

"I met him yesterday. Seems polite and competent, but honestly, his job looks exhausting. Did you know he arrives hours early to set up her office?"

"No way. I couldn't handle that kind of stress. Imagine working directly under her!"

Meanwhile, Jooyeon was left in the meeting room and waited for what the president's next order was.

In the meeting room, President Han Seoyoon continued to sift through the files, her sharp gaze dissecting every detail. Jooyeon stood nearby, clipboard in hand, waiting silently for her next command.

"Jooyeon," she said curtly, handing over the stack of documents she had finished reviewing.

"Yes, President Han," he responded promptly, sliding them onto his clipboard with practiced efficiency.

She stood gracefully, the legs of her chair barely making a sound against the polished floor, and adjusted the cuffs of her pristine red dress—a statement of power and elegance. Jooyeon hurried ahead to open the door for her, holding it with a slight bow.

As they walked through the company halls, employees turned to bow deeply, their reverence palpable. The president acknowledged no one, her gaze fixed forward, her strides purposeful and unyielding. Jooyeon kept his composure, his pace perfectly aligned with hers.

They reached the elevator, a private one reserved exclusively for Han Seoyoon. Jooyeon pressed the button, and the sleek doors slid open silently. They stepped inside, and the quiet hum of the elevator surrounded them.

The confined space heightened Jooyeon's awareness of her presence. His gaze shifted, almost involuntarily, to her striking figure in the scarlet dress—a perfect blend of sophistication and allure. The long skirt swayed lightly with her movements, and the subtle sheen of the fabric reflected the soft elevator light, giving her an almost ethereal glow.

Jooyeon quickly glanced away, inwardly chastising himself. Focus, Jooyeon. Yet, a thought lingered in his mind, unbidden but persistent. She wasn't just his boss—she was Han Seoyoon, the "Rising Phoenix" of the fashion world. A woman who inspired admiration, fear, and ambition in equal measure.

Han Seoyoon, on the other hand, had caught his fleeting gaze. Her sharp intuition rarely missed anything, and this was no exception. He's looking at me, isn't he? she thought, momentarily distracted. It wasn't the first time she noticed his subtle glances, but something about it unsettled her today. It wasn't disrespectful, nor was it inappropriate—it was admiration, quiet and restrained.

Is he expecting something from me? The thought gnawed at her. She didn't deal in emotions, preferring logic and perfection above all. Yet, for the first time in years, she hesitated.

Should she say something? Should she acknowledge his effort? Jooyeon had proven himself competent, almost unnervingly so. In just a few days, he had mastered tasks that had driven her previous secretaries to resignation. He was thorough, disciplined, and unfailingly polite—a rarity in her world.

Her thoughts warred with her usual pragmatism. He deserves recognition, doesn't he? But how? Compliments have never been my strong suit.

Jooyeon noticed her gaze on him and stiffened slightly, his clipboard clutched tightly to his chest. "Is there something you need, President Han?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with nervousness.

For a brief moment, Han Seoyoon's perfect composure wavered. "Good," she began, her voice softer than usual. Then, suddenly, the elevator lights flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness.

The elevator hummed softly as Han Seoyoon and Jooyeon stood in tense silence. The weight of their contrasting auras filled the confined space—hers, cold and commanding, and his, professional yet subtly nervous.

Then, without warning, the elevator jolted violently and came to an abrupt halt. The lights flickered, plunging the cabin into intermittent darkness before a faint emergency glow bathed the space in dim yellow.

"What just happened?" Han Seoyoon asked sharply, her composure unbroken.

Jooyeon quickly fumbled for the emergency panel. "I-I'll call for assistance right away," he stammered, pressing the button repeatedly. The intercom crackled to life, and a static-filled voice answered.

"Elevator malfunction detected. Please remain calm while we address the issue."

"Great," Jooyeon muttered under his breath, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He glanced nervously at Han Seoyoon, who was standing completely still, her arms crossed as if this were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

The elevator jolted again, this time more violently. Jooyeon yelped, clutching the wall for balance, while Han Seoyoon barely flinched.

"Are you seriously this scared of a little malfunction?" she asked, her tone laced with dry amusement.

"I'm not scared," Jooyeon retorted, his voice an octave higher than usual. The elevator shuddered once more, and he let out an involuntary shriek, practically leaping toward Han Seoyoon.

In his panic, he instinctively grabbed onto her for support, his arms awkwardly encircling her. For a split second, they stood frozen—Jooyeon clutching her like a lifeline while Han Seoyoon raised a single brow, her lips twitching in barely suppressed amusement.

"Jooyeon," she said, her voice cutting through the moment like a blade.

"Yes, ma'am?" he squeaked, realizing what he had done but too petrified to let go.

"You're hugging me."

Jooyeon's face turned crimson as he released her immediately, stumbling backward. "I-I'm so sorry, President Han! I didn't mean—"

Before he could finish, the elevator jolted again, and Jooyeon let out another startled yelp, stumbling forward once more. This time, Han Seoyoon couldn't suppress her reaction. A small, almost imperceptible chuckle escaped her lips.

It was so quiet that Jooyeon wasn't sure he'd heard it. He looked up, wide-eyed. "Did you just... laugh?"

Han Seoyoon's expression immediately returned to its usual icy composure, but there was a slight curve to her lips—a ghost of a smile that softened her features. "You must be hearing things," she said, her voice as cool as ever, but her eyes betrayed a glint of amusement.

The elevator jolted upward suddenly, as though deciding to mock them one last time. Jooyeon, once again, let out a startled cry, flailing for balance. This time, he crouched into a defensive position, his hands covering his head like a frightened puppy.

Han Seoyoon couldn't hold back anymore. A genuine laugh bubbled out, light and melodic, filling the confined space. It was so unexpected, so unlike her usual demeanor, that Jooyeon froze, forgetting his embarrassment for a moment.

"You... you're laughing at me?" he asked, his tone a mixture of disbelief and mortification.

Han Seoyoon wiped a non-existent tear from the corner of her eye, her amusement fading into a faint smirk. "You looked like a scared puppy. Can you blame me?"

Jooyeon's face burned as he stood up, brushing off his suit jacket in a futile attempt to regain his dignity. "I was just... ensuring your safety, ma'am."

"Is that what you call it?" she teased, her smirk widening slightly.

Before Jooyeon could come up with a rebuttal, the elevator resumed its smooth descent, the emergency lights switching back to normal. The moment of tension dissipated, but the awkwardness lingered in the air.

As the doors slid open and they stepped into the lobby, Jooyeon's face was still flushed. He adjusted his tie nervously, stealing a glance at Han Seoyoon. Despite her usual air of aloofness, there was a noticeable lightness to her steps, as if the incident had amused her more than she let on.

"You know," she said as they walked toward her waiting car, her voice tinged with rare warmth, "for someone who panics so easily, you're surprisingly competent. Don't let it go to your head."

Jooyeon blinked, unsure whether to take it as praise or a backhanded compliment. "Thank you... I think?"

Han Seoyoon didn't respond, stepping into her car with the same grace and poise as always. But as the car door closed, Jooyeon caught a fleeting glimpse of something unusual—a small, genuine smile on her lips, one that lingered far longer than her usual fleeting smirks.

For a moment, he forgot the embarrassment of the elevator and simply stared after the car, dumbfounded. Did she just... smile because of me?

Jooyeon shook his head, snapping out of it. "Focus, Jooyeon. Focus," he muttered to himself, heading back toward the building. Yet, he couldn't help but smile just a little, his chest inexplicably lighter.

As Han Seoyoon and Jooyeon stepped out of the elevator, the tension between them still crackled like static electricity. Jooyeon's cheeks burned with embarrassment, while Han Seoyoon's composure remained unshaken, though the faintest curve of a smile teased at the corners of her lips.

The sleek tiles of the lobby reflected their every step, but they both froze when they saw the man waiting near the entrance.

He was tall and authoritative, dressed in a sharp black coat that framed his broad shoulders perfectly. His short, jet-black hair gleamed under the soft light, and his face, almost unnervingly perfect, was partially obscured by a pair of stylish sunglasses. In his hands, he held a bouquet of vibrant red and white roses, their fragrance reaching them even from a distance. For a moment, neither Han Seoyoon nor Jooyeon spoke.

President Han," he called out, his deep voice breaking the silence like a knife through still water. In his hands was a bouquet of roses—red and white, vivid and freshly cut, their fragrance reaching them even at a distance.

He smiled, a small, confident curve of his lips, as he raised the bouquet toward them.