The mobile screen is illuminated with the notification sign and the vibration for a message revives me from pondering the enigma that is Oh Sehun. I felt the beginnings of a nasty headache creep along the base of my neck, when the missive from the Administrative aid requests the attendance of students from the B Section at the college in exactly an hour.

Are they kidding me?

I had just dusted off the grueling duty of being a Secretary and the utter mortification to getting caught in an extremely compromising situation. Not too long ago I realized I was a bloody peeping Tom and didn’t need their help in piling on to the misery. I was doing spectacularly well by myself.

I log in to the chat group created by the sophomores to confirm the timetable and the dance slot is green. I refresh the tab frequently but it remains glaringly highlighted. Gosh dang it.

What good fortune to be blessed abundantly with his Majesty’s existence for nearly 24 hours.

An absolute ing joy!

.

.

.

.

Not.

The Gods were seriously testing my patience. Wasn’t it enough bearing him in the office that now I have to endure him during the class! My straying nerves were still reeling from the drop of temptation I had tasted and allowing my unpredictable desire to deepen.

What had that been about?

Why had I reacted to the proximity between our bodies and sought the touch that was so unknown yet inquisitive?

It was perfectly meaningless and mischievous until I began wishing the heat linking our skin beneath the layers of clothes lingered and seeped into me. This burning reminder etched in my memory didn’t make any sense whatsoever just as the longing that accompanied it.

I disliked him intensely.

But not his soft .

I loathed the mien of arrogance he wore confidently.

But not the trivial embrace.

I was repelled by his condescending attitude.

But was only enticed by his smug teasing.

At least that is what I had been led to believe by my emotions.

However, the moan I had almost released while his fingers caressed my jaw was nothing short of a denial to the very statement I had placed my faith in.

Honestly, I had dated my fair share of men and blissfully indulged in many ual experiences with them. But none of those shallow flings had ever sparked this confusion or this self-consciousness, which was frightening considering the fact that he was my boss and my teacher.

I mean I have done plenty of stupid things in my life but having the hots for Mr. Oh was by far the stupidest of them all.

I clock out and stand idle on the pavement contemplating whether to attend or fake an excuse when a sleek, black, Porsche parks in the lane. I step behind cautiously and someone walks past. That someone is the man currently filling my imagination and it sends a thread of awareness through me.

No. Nope. Nada. That’s definitely a negative.

I was not aware of him and I would not be aware of him.

After a great deal of ‘paying no attention’ to me he acknowledges that I exist and gives me the once over silently. Obviously I am only able to observe this from the corner of my eyes (damn near dislodging them), unwilling to return the gesture. My cheeks burn with barely restrained excitement and the discomfort in my stomach grows.

Could I make the coincidence any more awkward?

“Mr. Byun I did not dismiss you early so that you could loiter around” he lectures. You demon I had to beg to be dismissed and you finally agreed because I disorganized your fricking files.

“I am waiting for a cab, not loitering Mr. Oh” I clarify sourly.

“Since we are headed in the same direction, you may accompany me” he suggests sliding onto the driver’s seat and I gape disbelievingly. Was he offering to chauffeur me?

Did he grasp the extent of chaos or the uproar it would cause when an irrelevant person like me tailgated him anywhere, much less to the Academy he owned? The snooping spectators and gossipmongers would flip their and then some.

“It is alright Sir. I wouldn’t want to trouble you unnecessarily. Besides I have to collect my workout gear from my house” I decline politely and mercifully he agrees.

“I expect to see you in precisely 45 minutes Mr. Byun. Do not be late and certainly do not entertain any notions of escaping” he advises scanning the golden watch on his wrist.

Yes, of course your Highness why wouldn’t you? Unreasonableness is, was and will be your forte. The world definitely revolves around your wishes, especially mine because I am the damn puppet that you keep dangling blatantly according to your whims and fancies.

I release a heavy sigh and mentally prepare myself for the impending torture and never ending agony. I had no energy left in me to handle him but seeing how he had made the requirement of my presence mandatory I couldn’t possibly cancel like I had been planning previously.

I reach in the nick of time having barely managed to head home and grab the required materials. Hacking coughs escape me as I catch my outraged breath and he glowers at me distastefully while I make myself scarce. He was single handedly crushing my entire game and I could do nothing but enable him.

“Hyung, I haven’t seen you from morning” Taeyong greets from his assigned position.

“Ah I must have forgotten. Hyung went and bagged himself a job” I answer evasively.

“A job? Why does Hyung need one of that?” he balks, as if the idea itself was offensive.

"You pampered punk. What do you know about hard work? A man should be independent always” I scold him defensively.

“I don’t get these adults” Taeyong mutters and fidgets skittishly.

“Spit it out” I probe. This kid was easy to read.

“Did Sunbae say something about yesterday?” he stutters.

“He didn’t. Was it important?” I wonder what the fool had done.

“Nothing. I had asked him to lend me the new game for the Nintendo Supreme” he brushes it off and I regard him peculiarly while he struggles for composure.

As usual I am a natural mess and my fatigue doesn’t help the situation. If anything I make more mistakes and it frustrates me continuously. I struggle so visibly that even Mr. Oh can’t ignore me. He adjusts my posture, my landing and my moves thrice each time more irritable than earlier. I go to great lengths to not give him an opportunity to correct my faults but I eventually fail.

So much for try and try until you succeed.

After two exhausting hours the class finally ends on a bitter note and I cannot contain the string of curses that had balled inside me over the course of the session. I retrieve my discarded bag in defeat and stride towards the exit.

“I will be selecting a group of five individuals for the Astaire Dances Repertory hence those interested in participating must submit their individual pieces by Saturday. Mr. Byun I will require you to stay behind but the rest may disperse” he concludes and my throat feels clogged with dry sand.

I really did not want to be alone with this man right now. All attempts to ignore the reason for my flailing concentration were proving to be pointless and I didn’t need his undivided attention focusing on me as I fumbled for my lost sensibilities.

Reluctantly nodding I settle for contemplating quietly next to the wall. When the last of the students evacuate the area Mr. Oh lounges by the support railings and drinks a bottle of chilled water. I savor the sight and the empty bottle is soon whizzing into the waste bin close to me. I recoil in shock and realize it was a warning. A warning to get my together. Had he perhaps noticed how harebrained I was being?

“Mr. Byun why are you here?” he muses calmly and I wonder what he’s getting at.

“Because my application was accepted” I answer uncertainly.

“I am not sure why you decided it would be acceptable to choose my subject for your Major” he puzzles and if I had not been observing him so thoroughly I would have mistaken it for an innocent question instead of the veiled insult that it was.

“I chose it because I wanted to learn how to dance and also improve my skills as an all-rounder. Any artist, even an aspiring one must always evolve through their efforts” I try to answer neutrally but my voice comes out sharper than I intended it to.

“A truly admirable perspective Mr. Byun but wouldn’t it more prudent if you applied this conviction to your strengths rather than your weaknesses?” he asks, a portrait of leisure.

“Shouldn’t we conquer our fears and weaknesses in order to become strong Mr. Oh?” I retort.

“That would be the expected norm had there been a scope for progress. I am told I have a keen intuition for discovering remarkable talents and so far Mr. Byun I have yet to witness a speck of that from you” he continues criticizing.

“You have taught me for less than a week Mr. Oh; on what basis did you decide that I was incapable of being here?” I demand indignantly.

“On the basis of everything I have seen so far. And I can assure you Mr. Byun that you do not belong here” he declares uninterested in the effect his words had produced.

“Aren’t you being unnecessarily rude Mr. Oh?” I question harshly.

“Not at all Mr. Byun I afford the same treatment to any of the incompetent people I come across” he states impassively and I want to drill a hole into his skull to understand on what degree of narcissism he operated.

“I have been working extremely hard from the beginning to get where I am my without being a hindrance to anyone but you are always discrediting it and belittling me. You refuse to give me half the chance you give the others" I fume anger making me forget who I was talking to or how.

"Follow me" he clips out and I trail behind him in confusion.

"Mr. Oh Where are we going?" I was half afraid that I would have to face the aftermath of my rant. He doesn't answer and soon we're in his car travelling to an unknown destination.

"Seatbelt" he instructs curtly and I realize that I was so distracted in deciphering his mood, I had forgotten about it.

"Mr. Oh could you please tell me where we are going?” I try again but there is no response from him. He is stoic and shows no signs of acknowledging me. Guess he was giving me the cold shoulder.

I am flustered when I realize that Mr. Oh and I were alone in this small, confined space for god knows how long. I couldn't control my wayward gaze as it pursued his lean but well-built frame and the powerful, veined arms clutching the steering wheel. This might be the first occasion in which I've seen him donning casual attire and it is dazzling.

It was a simple, maroon Henley and jeans for s sakes, yet I was drooling uncontrollably. I had a pesky feeling that he could wear a sweat band, glitter pants, neon shirts and he would still look infinitely better than 99.9% of the population. The remaining 0.1% was him when he was dressed like he had walked out of the cover of a GQ Magazine.

That's the truth.

Oh Sehun has no competition.

Oh Sehun is his own competition.

No matter how many times I reminded myself to resist him, strangely I got dragged into it further. He was a vacuum of charm and anyone who didn't succumb to it deserved every amazing award in this universe.

They say the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it and you will eventually grow sick of it. I don't think there's the remotest possibility in all the impossibilities where Mr. Oh would even regard me with anything but irritation and annoyance much less as a source of appeal.

We arrive outside a large building, almost as humongous as Mr. Oh's personal department. The lights are dim and the gates are closed. There is not a soul to be seen in the reception area and the elevators are the only point of activity. There are rows of doors in each hallway and boards indicating the purpose of the rooms. It could pass for a studio but not quite.

The 11th floor however, is brightly lit and electronic music booms from the cavernous gallery. Two men are engaged in playful fighting and they didn't notice our entry.

"I am glad that the millions I am investing in your Company are providing enough leisure for the Directors to frolic around happily" Mr. Oh interjects gruffly.

"Aww looks like Sehunnie missed his Hyungs too much" answers the taller of the duo.

"Jongin?"

"Baekhyun what are you doing here?" he questions equally surprised before pulling me in for a hug.

"That's what I'd like to know" I quip, smothered against his chest.

"How do you know Mr. Byun?" Mr. Oh asks eyebrows inclined in curiosity.

"He is Kyungsoo's friend" he answers gleefully and a sneaky smile engulfs him. Very subtle.

"Yixing haven't I warned you to keep Jongin away from that devil worshipper?" He hassles and I almost scoff. That was rich coming from him.

"That's Hyung for you rascal and I tried but he wouldn't listen to me" Mr. Zhang Yixing scolds, locking him in a choke hold. I am so flabbergasted by the scene in front of me that I stand stock still.

“Kyungsoo is not a devil worshipper. He’s an innocent penguin” Jongin asserts, upset. Now where did he get that idea from? Kyungsoo was positively terrifying.

"I apologize for his behavior Lay, I should have raised him better" came, the crystal clear voice from beside him and the air around them sparkles and fizzles in inexplicable energy. Cute couple alert.

"Could you please refrain from crediting yourself for my upbringing? You had no part to play in it except for the time when you taught me how to smoke the Cuban Cigars, Uncle had bought from his trip to the Dominican Republic" Mr. Oh opposes.

"Myeon did you seriously besmirch a young child with your wicked predilections" Mr. Zhang questions, shock clinging to him.

"He is reverting to his Oxford vocabulary. Why do you have to rat Junmyeon hyung out Sehun-ah?" wails Jongin.

"Lay before you jump to conclusions you must remember that I am too cute to die and whose humor would have you clutching your abdomen in barely controlled, sweet laughter" the man professes like a knight from a Shakespearean story and I find it ridiculously captivating.

"If I wanted to watch a third rate drama I would have visited one of my greedy relatives" Mr. Oh interrupts their exchange, his plump lips stretching thinly. Guess I wasn't the only one he was rude to.

"Sehun ah you should count your blessings for being my cousin. That bratty attitude would have gotten you buried 10 feet under if you were anyone else" the new visitor threatens.

"Do you realize there is a guest in our midst?" Jongin pipes in exasperatedly. About time. I was beginning to review the periodic table in my mind to distract myself from their comfortable banter that I was not meant to be privy to.

"Where are my manners?" he wonders suavely.

"You had none to begin with" Mr. Oh claims, earning a glare.

"My apologies. I am Kim Junmyeon, the owner of Empire Magazine" the short man introduces himself, suddenly adopting the demeanor of a dazzling businessman. Is this why he seemed so familiar? I nod in return gazing intensely at the mirror on the opposite side.

"Why won't he respond?" Mr. Zhang asks after the silence crawls stubbornly.

"That would be due to the scar he's gained by accidentally intruding on your forbidden tryst" Mr. Oh betrays wryly and I wince under the onslaught of distress. He had been with Mr. Zhang in the alcove. I wished the ground would swallow me whole and never let me return.

"He caught me performing oral on Xing?" Mr. Kim grins deviously and my vision blurs. Why were they highlighting every explicit detail so casually? I was a stranger for all intents and purposes.

"Is it absolutely necessary to be this crass?" Mr. Oh clucks disapprovingly. No it is not necessary. In fact this whole ordeal is not necessary. I shouldn't have to be here if the whole conversation would center around uncensored topics.

I don't know how but I have instinctively used Jongin as a shield and cowered behind him. He is the only person who is rational or partly sane amongst us.

"Baekhyun they are not so difficult once you get to know them" Jongin assures.

"I'll reserve my judgment for later Jongin ah" I whisper closely and he chuckles.

"Baekhyun is it?" Mr. Kim strikes a foxy smirk that pulls the curved ends of his lush mouth.

"Yes Sir" I finally squeak, nervousness failing my resolve.

"Please call me Junmyeon hyung. The next time, you need not remain an innocent bystander Baekhyun, Yixing and I believe in the more the merrier concept" Mr. Kim simpers predatorily and I wheeze. The tip of my ear turns into molten lava and my clutch on Jongin's arm is deathly. Was I propositioned for a ?

"Alright that is enough. He still has 11 months and 29 days to complete his Contract and you're scarring him beyond repair" he asserts and I am grateful before the second part of the sentence registers.

"You are counting?" I mutter.

"What contract?" Mr. Zhang wonders.

"I am here for a reason and this unnecessary gossiping is delaying that motive" Mr. Oh commands a measure of decorum between us.

"Here I had assumed that you were finally making an effort to check if your Hyungs were alive" Mr. Kim sighs disappointedly.

"Yixing he is your responsibility starting from this week" Mr. Oh conveys and I gasp in disbelief.

"This is not a daycare Sehun-ah. You cannot dump a 14 year old whenever you please and disappear"

"I am 21! And I don't use a fake ID to get inside the clubs anymore" I splutter in my defense.

"Congratulations. I'll have to invite you for a drink soon" he continues as if we were the best of buddies.

"Getting back to the issue at hand. Sehun why did you want Yixing hyung to take responsibility for Baekhyun?" Jongin reminds, repeating the question I had been speculating myself.

"Mr. Byun needs extensive guidance in dancing and I lack the patience for it" he explains exasperatedly.

"That is a little out of the blue Sehun-ah. I have hundreds of trainees to coach already. I don't see how I can help Mr. Baekhyun" Mr. Zhang apologizes.

"Test him" is all he utters in return and I go into full blown panic mode. He was putting me on the spot and I had no skills that could genuinely back it up. This was YJ Entertainment and a nobody like me couldn't possibly compare to the plethora of talent being honed here.

They scrutinize me quietly and I squirm beneath the pressure of the shrewd assessment from these brilliant, gifted legends. I couldn't have felt more out of place.

"Why don't you sing for us Baekhyun? Anything you're comfortable with" Mr. Zhang directs and suddenly my mind draws a blank, like I didn't possess ten different IPods containing thousands of songs individually.

"Would you prefer the piano to go along with it?" Mr. Kim queries perceiving my palpable apprehension.

"Yes. That would be better" I answer anxiously occupying the stubby, ebony chair.

I press each of the chords in succession allowing the keys I had gotten accustomed to soothe my alarmed nerves. The lyrics float in my subconscious and I surrender to the symphony, suddenly coveting the release.

Tonight's moon

Looks so very desolate

You too must live

Clenching an empty heart

I lay in my empty room

Thoughts of this and that fill me up

I sigh, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke

Another day passes

Nothing works out for me

My love has left me

The liquor in my glass reflects the moon in the sky

So we take turns sipping to spend the night

Tonight the moon

Looks so very desolate

You too must live

Clenching an empty heart

When it rains

The clouds sail over you

So the dark streets feel more desolate

Walking alone

The melancholic tune plunging the ballroom dissipates slowly and I pivot to gauge the reactions of my esteemed audience. Their expressions range from pure astonishment to delight and the serenity in Mr. Oh agitates me. I suppose I aced that mock audition.

"What is the problem Sehun?" Jongin's outburst startles everyone.

"I am curious myself as to why you are ridding yourself of this fluffy, adorable puppy when he croons so mesmerizingly and melodiously" Mr. Kim accuses solemnly.

"Mr. Byun, connect the latest piece to the main speakers" he orders and I cringe, fulfilling his bidding.

"Proceed" he adds and the track drifts slowly. I execute the routine and the final verse ends decisively. Loud guffaws ensue and Jongin is laughing wildly. Whereas Mr. Kim and Mr. Zhang seem as if they swallowed something foul.

“I believe that answers your question” Mr. Oh articulates persuasively and even I am drowning in shame.

“Baekhyun… that was phenomenally amateurish. For the most part you are synchronized with the beats and your flexibility is decent. I wouldn’t say there is anything dreadful but you lack balance and the knowledge of the angles that suit your body as well as the movements. I’m not going to lie. It is going to take lot of work to rectify” Mr. Zhang justifies patiently.

“We can’t promise you will be better here because our method of coaching is strenuous and meticulous. We do not slack off nor do we leave any stone unturned” Jongin comments humbly.

“I won’t deny you have the flair for this but I am afraid the full extent of your abilities cannot be demonstrated by yourself. I am prepared to teach you but the results will be determined by your commitment alone” Mr. Zhang completes and I realize the magnitude of the opportunity that is being handed to me on a silver platter.

“I am not sure I deserve it but please take care of me” I agree immediately, bowing low.

“Sehun would have never brought you to us if he didn’t think you were worth the effort” Mr. Kim smiles paternally.

It was true. Mr. Oh had purposefully or inadvertently given me an occasion to rise to and ensured I hadn’t squandered it. He made this happen for me when I had been needlessly blunt with him.

“Myeonnie I forgot to tell you I found us the perfect newbie to launch. I heard a demo yesterday and I have never been more excited about a composer and rapper. He is an all kill" Mr. Zhang gushes.

"Freak luv wasn't it? I am so hooked already" Jongin joins excitedly. The title is awfully familiar and I rack my brains. Isn't that Chanyeol's recording?

"Mr. Zhang I don't mean to interrupt but that was sent to you by a close friend of mine. He has been recording it for ages, to match your standards" I chime in happily.

"You know him? That's fantastic! I cannot wait to meet this guy." he continues and an idea springs. I excuse myself and dial his number.

"Yeol I'm texting you an address. Please come fast" I beam.

"No" he deadpans directly.

"This is important Yeol" I attempt.

"It will have to wait. I'm in no mood to go anywhere" he shuts me down.

"This is not a booty call for you to refuse stupid" I groan. Why was he such an idiot? I was trying to surprise him and he's acting like a jerk.

"Baek you know I never refuse an actual booty call" he snickers and I want to throw him in the gutter.

"Yeol I am serious" I snap.

"Fine. Ask cutely."

"Over your cold, frozen, dead, decomposing…" I start threatening elaborately.

“Bye baby Baek. The cabs are always available” he baits.

“What should I say?” I demand, clenching my teeth so hard that it hurts.

“Please pick me up Oppa” he reveals.

“Did you snort a load of coke?” I growl, tempted to disconnect, but Mr. Zhang was practically his God, his religion. I deserve a Nobel Prize for this.

“Aegyo. Aegyo. Aegyo” he chants continuously.

“Please pick me up oppa” I give in, shuddering violently and the urge to puke overpowers me.

“There! Was it that difficult?” he celebrates.

“COME. NOW.” I scream.

“Mr. Byun you never fail to amuse” Mr. Oh comments leaning against the pillar and I stare at his phone in horror. Had he recorded the entire thing?

I must delete it.

I must destroy the evidence.

“Mr. Oh! That is a violation of my privacy” I exclaim feeling scandalized.

“A- Mr. Byun or you’re going to be an internet sensation” he taunts and somehow I don’t resent it. Must be the gratitude.

“That's unfair" I grumble.

"I give credit where it's due Mr. Byun not where it's anticipated" he replies and I know what he's referring to.

"Thank you for everything and I am sorry for accusing of being biased. That was wrong and pretty…dumb” I surrender.

“Don’t flatter yourself Mr. Byun. This is purely selfish. I’d prefer helping you than watching you perform” he ridicules and his insult doesn’t have the usual bite.

“I’m not that bad” I pout and his piercing gaze flickers to my lips staying there for a moment. Am I hallucinating?

“As the saying goes, whatever floats your boat Mr. Byun” he states smugly reminding of when he gave me the title criado.

“Mr. Oh, what is a criado?” I enquire clueless about the term.

“Spanish is a beautiful language Mr. Byun. It makes even the more severe phrases sound intriguing” he says pleased.

“I’m afraid I can’t relate” I murmur regretfully.

“Are you positive you want to break the spell?” he questions, humor glinting off him. I gulp nervously and nod my consent. The lengthy pause makes me think he probably wouldn't answer.

“Servant” he pronounces over his shoulder as he saunters away and it dawns on me that Mr. Oh had called me his servant. His ing servant.

Who would have thought instead of fuming I’d want to hear him say it again.