An Handsome intruder

The man stood tall, his commanding presence filling the room as his deep voice sliced through the silence.

"President Han," he called again, his tone laced with casual familiarity that bordered on presumptuous.

In his hands was a bouquet—an unlikely sight in this spotless office environment—its bright colors jarring against the tension in the air. Jooyeon's fists were clenched at his sides, instinctively urging him to intervene, but he didn't move, his eyes fixed on the stranger.

Han Seoyoon kept her icy composure, though a slight flicker of irritation crossed her face.

"President Han," he called again, his tone laced with a casual familiarity that felt almost intrusive.

He smiled, a slow, teasing curve of his lips, and tilted his head to one side. "You don't seem to recognize me, do you?" he asked, his voice silky smooth with an undercurrent of amusement. "But we're closer than you think."

Her cold eyes narrowed, scanning him briefly.

"Have we met before?" she asked, her voice even, as if testing the waters.

"I see my voice doesn't ring a bell," he said with a sly smile. "We've never worked together directly, but I'd hoped our circles were close enough for you to remember me." 

Han Seoyoon's face confused, her facial expressions solid and cold , her beauty added mor tension to the surroundings, as more and more staff gathered.

"Don't you remember me, Yoonie?" The man's voice was smooth, his words carrying an oddly sweet lilt. He let the bouquet fall slightly, and his smile widened at the sharp change in Han Seoyoon's face.

Jooyeon could practically feel the sudden shift. His mind raced. Yoonie? That was a nickname he hadn't expected to hear. The President? Her face had gone colder than before, her eyes narrowing at the man before her. Was he someone from her past? Or—Jooyeon's suspicions grew—was this someone who had crossed a line, someone who thought he had the right to speak to her like that?

The murmurs started as soon as they heard him call President Han Yoonie.

The surrounding crowd—the other executives and staff members—had fallen silent, eyes darting between Han Seoyoon and the handsome stranger. Some men looked envious, others confused, as they speculated on the relationship between the two. There was a whispered buzz in the air, and many wondered if this was a romantic rendezvous, judging by the way the man casually addressed her.

Jooyeon saw the flash of emotion on Han Seoyoon's face—was it irritation? Annoyance? Something more? She'd never been this rattled by someone before, not even when people tried to undermine her in the office. Her eyes sharpened, her back straightened, and Jooyeon could see her preparing for a confrontation.

"Listen carefully," Han Seoyoon said, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "I don't know who you are or where you're from, but coming into my company and calling me by a name like that is something I will not tolerate." Her words were calm, but the warning in them was clear, a cold fury simmering beneath the surface.

The atmosphere crackled with the tension. Jooyeon felt his own pulse quicken, his body instinctively moving closer to her, ready to protect her if necessary.

The bodyguards, sensing the escalation, gathered in a protective circle around the man. They cracked their knuckles, poised to move at a moment's notice, their eyes locked on the stranger. Jooyeon's muscles tensed in preparation.

But the man didn't flinch. He simply removed his sunglasses and everyone started reconganising his face and it was clear to all who he was !

"Who was that?" one staff member whispered.

"A designer, Jang Seokmin. He's a big name in fashion," another replied.

He was none other than Jang Seokmin, a renowned fashion designer who had built his empire from the ground up, rising from a prestigious family but carving out his name through his undeniable talent.

But to someone like her it didn't matter who he was , Her expression didn't soften. If anything, her gaze grew sharper.

"Get out before I have you escorted out," she said, her tone icy but final.

The words were measured, her tone like steel wrapped in ice. Seokmin's smile only grew as he took one step forward, closing some of the distance between them.

Jooyeon jerked instinctively, his fists curling into fists at his sides, but Seoyoon didn't even flinch.

Seokmin pulled out a slick black business card from his pocket and thrust it out-not to her, but to Jooyeon.

"You look like her secretary," he drawled, his words taken to the point of mockery. "Hand it over to her."

Jooyeon froze, unsure of how to respond, but Han Seoyoon stepped in before he could.

"You can keep your card," she said icily, her gaze locking onto Seokmin's with unyielding intensity. "And while you're at it, keep your presumptions to yourself."

The surrounding staff had fallen silent, their gazes flicking nervously between Seoyoon and Seokmin. The tension was palpable, thick enough to cut through.

Seokmin chuckled softly, unfazed. He returned the card to his pocket and gave her a small nod. "Fair enough. But I'll be back when you're ready to listen."

With that, he turned and walked out, the bouquet swinging slightly in his hand.

"But why was he here? And why did he seem so familiar with President Han?"

Jooyeon's mind was racing. Despite Seoyoon's icy composure, the encounter had felt… personal, even if she had shut him down without hesitation.

"Jooyeon," Seoyoon's voice snapped him back to reality, sharp and commanding. "Let's move on."

"Y-yes, President Han," he stammered, falling into step behind her as she strode away, her heels clicking decisively against the polished floor.