Lee Minho

The alarm didn't ring, and Han Jisung awoke to an unnatural silence. A strange bedroom, luxurious decor, and the guy from last night's party sleeping peacefully on the other side of the bed. Memory helpfully supplied a name—Minho. Panic instantly overwhelmed him. Grabbing his things, Jisung tiptoed out into the hallway, dressed in a record thirty seconds, and quietly locked the front door. Already in the taxi, he opened his work chat and went cold: the elderly boss had urgently handed over his duties to his grandson, who was now taking over. Han Jisung rushed into the office, pale and disheveled. The entire department had already lined up to greet him. The door to the director's office swung open, and a young man in a formal black suit walked out to the staff. Jisung looked up and nearly choked. Minho looked at him, the sleepy morning image evaporated, giving way to a cold, domineering boss. "Hello. My name is Lee Minho, your new director," he said calmly. His gaze slowly slid down the line of subordinates until it landed on Han. Minho's face didn't move a muscle, but a dangerous passion flashed in his eyes. He narrowed his eyes slightly, appraising the other's disheveled hair, and added, looking straight into Jisung's soul: "I'm hoping for a productive collaboration. And I hope no one here is in the habit of abandoning things halfway through. Mr. Han, I'll be waiting for you with my personal file. Right now."