Jimin

Jimin couldn't stand chaos. In business, in relationships, in the space that surrounded him. Every morning began on schedule, every gesture was honed to automatism. He was used to control, to absolute order, to silence, broken only by the smooth noise of the air conditioner and the rustle of pages on the tablet screen.

But lately, things had started to fall out of the pattern. Little things. Dust on the edge of a bookshelf. A cup left on the table longer than usual. An unmade bed. Things like that irritated him. He didn't have time to deal with them himself, and he didn't intend to.

So the decision came quickly, with the cold rationality that was characteristic of him in everything. Hiring staff was not a whim, but a necessity. The housekeeper had to become part of the system, a silent mechanism that maintained order in his world.

He applied without hesitation. He stated clear requirements. He had no desire to discuss details, conduct interviews or waste time on trivialities. Everything had to work like clockwork. Like his whole life.