Alive

Whispers In The Office

The drive to his workplace was smoother than you expected. No harsh bumps, no sudden stops, no traffic jams—just the steady hum of the engine and the low thrum of city life beyond the tinted windows. You sat quietly, sneaking glances at him from time to time. The way Jaebeom's fingers rested on the steering wheel, long and firm, veins showing faintly beneath his skin—it was effortless control, and it made something in you tighten. He didn't speak much, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was thick, charged, like even the air between you was waiting for something to happen.

The car slipped into a towering parking garage, the kind that seemed endless, spiraling higher and higher with rows upon rows of neatly parked cars. You tilted your head back to take it all in. Ten levels, maybe more. You wondered how many thousands of cars could fit here. It felt like another world—cold, metallic, echoing with the occasional honk or screech of tires.

Jaebeom parked on the second level, directly beneath a sleek black sign that read:

CEO – Lim Jaebeom

The bold letters gleamed in the fluorescent light, and you couldn't help the way your stomach fluttered. This wasn't just his car. This wasn't just his space. This entire empire—this company, this building, this life of wealth and power—was his. And now, somehow, you were being pulled into it.

Like always, he slipped out of the car first, his movements sharp, deliberate, commanding. Then he circled to your side, opening your door with a quiet precision that contrasted with the chaos of the garage. He waited, patient but expectant, until you stepped out.

"Try not to talk to too many people," he said as you began walking together. His tone was low, even, but not unkind. "Some of them don't like me very much."

You blinked at him. How could anyone not like him? He was intimidating, yes—but there was something magnetic about him too. Still, you nodded. "Alright."

The glass doors parted smoothly as he pushed them open, ushering you inside.

The interior of the building was breathtaking. It was bigger, brighter, and more opulent than even the garage outside. Marble floors stretched across the lobby, polished until they reflected the lights above like still water. A plush red carpet ran down the center like a path meant only for royalty. And everywhere—desks, cubicles, glass offices stacked like clear cages—people moved briskly, their eyes locked on screens or papers. The atmosphere buzzed with productivity.

"This company manufactures electronics," Jaebeom explained in that same matter-of-fact tone, his hand barely brushing against the small of your back as he guided you. "The first and second floors hold offices and conference rooms. The higher levels are restricted."

You followed his lead, trying not to gawk at the grandeur of it all. His world was so far from yours, so precise and immaculate, that you almost felt like an imposter walking among them.

At the end of a long hallway sat a sleek office door, guarded, in a way, by a smaller desk just outside. A man sat there, absorbed in his computer. He was striking in his own right—jet-black hair styled neatly, skin kissed with warm tones, full lips pressed into a subtle line. His white collared shirt was perfectly fitted, paired with tailored black pants.

Jaebeom paused at the door, turning back to you. "Stay here. I need to talk to someone."

You nodded quickly, obedient, watching as he disappeared into the office and shut the door behind him.

The silence stretched until the man at the desk lifted his eyes from the screen. He studied you openly before offering a faint smile.

"Y/N, huh?"