Chapter 24– Unfinished Obsession

The evening was warm, and the atmosphere at Taro's home was lively. Laughter, the soft clinking of glasses, and the hum of casual conversation filled the air.

Taro's family had been eagerly preparing since he mentioned a special guest was coming. His mother, an ordinary woman with a kind face, had been fussing over the arrangement of dishes, while his younger sister kept stealing curious glances at the door, wondering what kind of person could make Taro so excited.

Then, the moment arrived.

When Rylan stepped through the door, he didn't need to announce his presence. He commanded it.

Dressed sharply, as always, in a tailored dark suit that contrasted with the more casual setting, he exuded an air of quiet dominance. His presence was suffocating, yet irresistibly magnetic.

Taro's mother was immediately charmed.

"Oh my, Taro didn't tell us his boss was so young and handsome!"

she said, offering a warm smile.

Rylan returned the smile with calculated ease, taking her hand gently. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Taro has spoken highly of his family."

Taro's sister blushed slightly, nudging her brother. "I see why you admire him so much."

Taro grinned, pride swelling in his chest. Having Rylan here felt like a dream—like proof that he was finally someone.

As the night continued, Rylan made himself comfortable, seamlessly blending into the conversation. But despite his polite exchanges, his mind was elsewhere.

He was waiting.

Waiting for the real reason he had agreed to this visit in the first place.

And then—

The door opened again.

Rylan didn't have to turn to know who it was.

The air shifted. The voices softened. And then, there he stood.

Elian.

Time slowed, just for a second.

Rylan finally allowed himself to look at him. Really look at him.

Elian didn't wear anything extravagant. He didn't need to. A simple black shirt, fitted enough to hint at the elegant frame beneath, sleeves rolled just enough to expose his slender wrists. Dark slacks that hugged his form in all the right ways.

But it wasn't just the clothes.

It was the way he carried himself—unbothered, untouchable. Like nothing in this world could shake him.

Like Rylan couldn't shake him.

Rylan's grip tightened on his glass as his eyes drank in every detail. The sharp curve of Elian's jawline, the faintest hint of a smirk that never quite reached his lips, the way his long lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin.

He was beautiful. Infuriatingly, unbearably beautiful.

And the worst part?

He looked at Rylan as if he were nothing more than a stranger.

No hesitation. No recognition. Not even a flicker of emotion.

Rylan wanted to break something.

But he didn't.

Instead, he smiled—slow and unreadable—as Elian approached.

Elian was an actor, after all.

But so was Rylan.

And the game had just begun.