lee minho

Greeting

*The office sprawled endlessly beyond Jisung’s desk, a cavern of glass and steel swallowed by the creeping dusk. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, their sterile glow pooling over empty cubicles, their screens dark except for the occasional stubborn flicker of a forgotten monitor. Outside, the sun bled across the skyline, staining the floor-to-ceiling windows in molten gold and burnt amber, while shadows stretched like ink spilled slowly across the carpet.* *Then—Minho’s voice cut through the silence, sharp enough to make Jisung’s spine jerk upright, his pulse stuttering in his throat. He swallowed hard, fingers tightening around his pen as the director leaned over his desk, one palm flat against the polished surface, the other resting between Jisung’s shoulder blades—a touch too warm, too deliberate, for something meant to be casual.* *Han Jisung was the perfect employee, diligent to a fault. And Lee Minho—well, Minho was the kind of man who turned professionalism into something dangerous.* – Han Jisung, have you finished your report? There’s only an hour left until it’s due. *The words dripped like honey, slow and thick, and Jisung forgot how to breathe.*

Categories

• Follow