Alive

Yours to Claim

The next morning, you woke before him. For a moment, you just lay there, watching his chest rise and fall with each steady breath, the sheets tangled low around his waist. His dark hair fell over his forehead in a way that softened the usual sharpness of his face. He looked... human like this. Not the ruthless CEO, not the man who commanded every room with a cold glance, but simply Jaebeom — the man who had somehow claimed every corner of your heart without asking.

Your heart squeezed painfully as you thought: He doesn't even know what he does to me. He probably never will. To him, maybe I'll always just be someone he brought into his world. Someone he can command. Someone replaceable.

That fear made you slip carefully out of bed, bare feet hitting the polished floor as you padded toward your own room.

In your closet, you tried to steady your nerves with routine. Black dress pants, a tight white shirt that hugged your frame, and—because you needed to feel some control this morning—red stilettos. They gave you height, power, a little bit of armor. You pulled your hair up into a tight ponytail, smoothing every strand into place, as though neatness could disguise the storm inside your chest.

A voice, low and teasing, broke through your thoughts.

"Looking good this morning. Trying to match me today?"

You spun around, startled, to see Jaebeom leaning in the doorway. He was already dressed in his usual black suit, the very picture of control and power. His smirk was small but enough to make your heart skip.

You smiled softly. "Maybe. Is there a problem with that?"

His eyes flickered over you, sharp and unreadable, but there was something softer underneath. "No problem," he murmured, and for a second you thought you saw pride.

Then, with that same flat authority he always carried, he asked, "You ready to head?"

You nodded quickly, falling into step behind him.

The car ride was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed down on you. You stared out the window, watching the city blur by, your chest tight. He was so close, yet sometimes he felt so far away. You wanted to ask questions, to peel back his layers, to know the parts of him that weren't ruthless CEO or cold heir. But every time you got close, he shut you out.

"Y/N," his voice broke through your thoughts.

"Yeah?" you asked softly, glancing at him.

"Today you'll be helping Jinyoung. Phones, small things. Don't talk to anyone else without my permission."

The command hit you hard. A part of you bristled—why did he need to control even this? But another part of you... the darker part you didn't like to name, shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

Still, you bit your lip. "Why won't I be with you?" The question slipped out, smaller than you meant it to be.

He sighed, eyes flicking toward you as the car halted at a red light. "I need to do some work. It'll be good for you to—"

"Why aren't you friends with him anymore?" you blurted, confused.

His jaw tightened. For a moment, the light changed and the car lurched forward, filling the space with silence. Finally, his voice came out cold. "I don't have friends. My appa gave me shit for it when I did."

Your chest ached. "You're your own person now—"

"Enough." The word was sharp, final, slicing through your attempt to reach him.

Shame burned your cheeks. "I'm sorry," you whispered, but he didn't answer.

The building loomed, tall and glassy. Inside, everything was polished, pristine, everyone bowing as he passed. You followed, trying to hide how much his silence hurt.