"Mother" I shout, seeking her out in the empty garden and stroll into the area where the cabinets were. I pull a cookie from the glass jar and search for the petite figure that would no doubt be hunched over vessels whilst eagerly making dishes that I could never pronounce but could somehow drool for.

"In here" she motions from the kitchen and I follow the signal.

"Are we celebrating Thanksgiving twice this year?" I squeal when I find her surrounded by huge pots, containing an assortment of vegetables.

"No honey, I am making Kimchi from grandma’s traditional recipe and she is very adamant that I prepare it for us" she chuckles and slides her small hands inside the pink gloves that were stained red due to the chili powder.

"Mum, I think you're going to be lectured either way, Nana's Kimchi recipes are no joke. Better throw in that towel when you still have the chance Mrs. Byun" I tease habitually and she pinches the edges of my cheeks in warning.

"AH AH, that hurts Mom" I wail loudly and she releases her grip instantly with a soothing . I had been exaggerating of course but Byun Baekhyun was nothing if not Oscar worthy.

"You're back from college early sweetheart" she remarks and casually ignores my painful groans.

"I come bearing news, oh dear mother" I begin, faking a natural cheer.

Honestly, I hadn't been to the college in two, long weeks and it was becoming extremely hard to hide the fact from my parents and Chanyeol, both. I was the first person to leave the house in the morning, just to avoid running into them while I went to fulfill my obligations as a Secretary in the Oh Enterprises.

My family was under the impression that I was attending extra classes whereas Chanyeol thought my schedule had been changed fully. It felt like I was leading a double life and the lies were complicating it.

"Go on, darling it's been a while since we had a chance to chat properly or gossip as your father would say. Quite frankly, your dad and I were starting to feel that we were living alone in this big place" she speaks wistfully and continues to mix the ingredients.

"Mum, please sit down and listen. I can handle this part easily" I urge pushing her onto the island chair and relieve her of the difficult task.

"Pumpkin, your mom is not old enough to need your help in preparing Kimchi" she scolds reluctantly and I pout until she fixes the violently fluorescent gloves along my half fists.

"Of course not mum but I’m almost never around so let me do this for you. Think of me as your assistant" I grin at her reassuringly.

"Shall I heat up some warm milk?" she humors me and straightens the unruly fringe covering my eyes.

"Yes please and could you put lots of tiny, pieces of strawberry in it?" I request quickly. My daily diet consisted of 12 cups of strawberry yogurt, 3 cartons of strawberry milk and I made no exceptions on that account.

A man has to eat healthy to live a long life.

I'm sure many would disagree and call my reason a bull excuse for devouring half the strawberries produced in this world but those haters had yet to savor the real taste of paradise. Bunch of cynical, chicken s.

"Honey I remember. Now tell me what is it that you wanted to talk about. I'll have you know that if you and Kyungsoo are still determined on adopting the entire Penguin enclosure from the zoo I will be declining straightaway" she finalizes and boops my nose playfully.

"I cannot believe how heartless you can be mother. Those penguins needed me and Kyungsoo. They had the potential of amazing vocalists and could have been the pioneers of tap dancing" I retort, slightly offended that she would refuse to succumb to a tantrum that had nearly gotten us arrested for public disturbance.

"Darling they are not Mumble from Happy Feet. They don't dance or sing" she maintains, her patience never dimming.

"How would you understand that when you didn’t give them a chance mom?" I sulk childishly.

"Byunnie you swore that you would grow out of that phase" she reminds pointedly, flinging the words that I had once regretfully uttered.

"Fine" I agree grudgingly.

"Shall we return to the topic?" she brings our lost train of thought around.

"Yes. Right. I have to attend a competition in Hong Kong tomorrow and the Principal has specifically demanded that I participate" I lie through my teeth, nervously.

There wasn't a chance in hell where she would allow me to step outside if she knew about my contract with Mr. Oh or what it required of me to do.

"Honey don’t you have to manage quite a bit with your AP classes already? It doesn't seem like a practical idea" she reasons worriedly.

"I tried to decline, believe me, but it was impossible. Besides it's for 2 or 3 days at the most Mom and I'll be back before you miss me" I persuade her insistently.

"Well if the Dean has requested I suppose you will have to attend" she sighs, not completely convinced.

I knew she hated having me away from home but my situation didn't give me much of a choice. I was walking a pretty thin line between a flaming pit of volcano and Oh Sehun. Neither of the option was appealing or valuable for my peace and safety.

"Minseok and you are so wrapped in your world, you're forgetting that you have two old parents who would enjoy spending some time with you" she complains and a dejected frown unfurls across her face.

"I am incredibly sorry mom and I promise to not go anywhere this weekend. I'm all yours" I swear, seriously determined.

"It's okay honey. Nothing makes us happier than seeing you both achieve all your dreams and aspirations" she coos, planting a kiss in the middle of my brows.

"I love you mom and I am really sorry for being such a ty son in the past week" I apologize as the guilt eats me alive.

"Language, Byun Baekhyun! And I love you too" she repeats affectionately.

The rest of the afternoon passes in unstoppable chatter and echoes of blissful laughter. A sense of calm settles within me and I am more composed than when I had begun this conversation, burdened by my dilemma. But that had vanished and left me light as a feather.

"Hey kiddo! Are you bunking college again?" Minseok Hyung greets me, reaching the kitchen counter and panic bubbles in the tightest corners of my chest.

was he aware that I haven't been going to college?

"W-whh-what do you mean Hyung?" I stutter, anxiously.

"You and Chanyeol do that often and raid our pantry in the restaurant" he accuses pointedly and my erratic breathing returns to a normal rate. I had narrowly escaped suspicion and being grounded for the rest of eternity.

"He has to board a flight soon" my mom reacts instead of me.

"A flight? Where are you travelling to?" Hyung ponders curiously.

"I have to perform at a music competition in Hong Kong tomorrow" I explain briefly avoiding a lengthy discussion. Minseok Hyung knew how to play the bad cop and make you reveal your deepest, darkest secrets in sheer seconds.

"Tomorrow? Have you booked the tickets yet and what about the Visa?" Hyung enquires, surprised by the short notice I had provided.

"The college is handling that matter. I just have to be in the airport in the next two hours" I clarify, remembering the curt text I had received from Rafael,

"The hangar. At 21:00 sharp. Do not be late"

His first ever warning had rung clear through it.

"Alright. Then tell me when you’re done and I'll drop you to the airport" he offers, quickly ascending the stairs to the private wing of our house.

"Mom, I'll call you when I land there and please inform dad for me won't you? I still have to pack and I won't make it there on time if I went to the showroom now" I plead hastily.

"Of course darling. You be safe and don't get into any kind of trouble" she advises firmly, concern etched in her voice and I nod reassuringly. If only she heard of all the trouble I was already in she'd ship me to the North Pole! No questions necessary.

It took me a good hour to cram my clothes, toiletries, shoes and headphones inside the tiny, silver suitcase. When I am finished Minseok Hyung drove me to Gimpo International in record time as I was cutting it dangerously close to 9 p.m.

There was no predicting how Mr. Oh would sting if I didn't stick to his strict punctuality rule. Maybe he would abandon and order me to travel in another flight; at this point there wasn't much I put past him. If I had to decide on a scale of one to ten the extent of demonic and ungodly things Mr. Oh was capable of doing I would score him a stark 9.5. That point five being knocked off only for the sole moment of generosity he had shown me.

The airport is packed to the brim with people and I belatedly wonder where exactly this so called hangar was. I had neither received directions nor a particular location because the message Rafael had sent was frugal and lacking in details. I was hopelessly lost in a sea of passengers rushing to deposit their baggage and separate their carry-on’s.

"Byunnie I can’t spot any of your coaches, are you sure the competition is tomorrow?" Hyung doubts and uncertainly scans the building.

"Crap! I totally forgot that they wanted me to come at 10p.m. Good lord where is my brain?" I giggle tensely.

"Byunnie, you have to pay more attention when people are speaking to you" hyung scolds, assuming a serious manner.

"Yes yes I will. You can leave ahead Hyung and I will wait for them. It’s not a problem" I attempt to convince him.

"No, it's fine. I came all the way with you might as well wait for them" he asserts stubbornly.

This wouldn't do.

I was running late and had to find the god forsaken flight.

"But you told me the new shipment for the restaurant will be delivered today. Ten is alone and I'm not sure he can collect the provisions by himself" I poke and prod at his weakness- the obsession to have things arranged meticulously and accurately.

"Why did I hire that idiot?" Hyung groans and it is obvious that I have won the battle. The restaurant was his brain child and there was nothing he loathed more than chaos or disorder in it.

"Don't worry. I'll contact you as soon as I reach there" I ease his discomfort.

"Okay. Ring me even if your plans are cancelled I'll take you home. All the best Byunnie" he rushes through the sentence and hugs me distractedly me. I bet his mind was busily imagining a thousand different scenarios where all hell breaks loose.

"Where is the damn hangar?" I muse aloud and aimlessly glance around.

"Excuse me Sir, are you Mr. Oh's secretary?" a tall, lanky guy interrupts my scrutiny and I am curious whether 'Mr. Oh's Secretary' is my official title, it certainly was a drop from Best Vocalist.

"Yes I am and you are?" I inquire politely.

"I am Mr. Oh’s driver" he introduces himself from beside me.

"Ah, correct. Min Jun, hello" I address, recalling him from when he threw the keys to the beast of a Ferrari.

"Is this your first time travelling with Mr. Oh?" he speculates, clearly noticing my cluelessness.

"Indeed. I was informed to meet him at the airstrip but I'm relatively lost to be honest" I admit sheepishly.

"It happens with all the newbies because the hangar is situated a bit further than the others. You must be aware that Mr. Oh values his privacy above everything else" he justifies.

"Absolutely" I affirm dryly. I was sadly well versed with Mr. Oh's fondness for security and solitude.

In the two weeks of being employed by Oh Enterprises, I was sent to every floor in such a frequent manner they had to change my access pass thrice and it was finally settled that I would have access to all 66 floors.

What I discovered only recently though is that there are five underground levels that even my shadow hadn't crossed. Supposedly there was a sub-basement made of four feet thick walls and shut away by a steel door that could be opened exclusively by Mr. Oh. What he is hiding in that miniature Swiss Bank is a mystery I had yet to solve.

"Sir, please follow me" he guides carrying my luggage whilst holding another heavy suitcase. A Louis Vuitton, at that. No points for guessing who it belonged to since the initials OSH was elegantly embroidered in black.

"Please call me Baekhyun and allow me to carry my bag" I protest instantly.

"Not at all, it is my duty" he obliges and sentimental tears dull my sight.

Is this an angel in disguise?

So far, he was the nicest person I had encountered while working for Mr. Oh.

"Thank you" I express my gratitude and he strides forward.

We weave through the crowd effortlessly and reach an enormous open, space filled with various models of planes, jets and helicopters. Unexpectedly, the excitement increases in leaps and bounds, at the prospect of travelling in one of them.

"That belongs to Mr. Oh" he discloses, placing my suitcase inside the biggest plane in the lane and I scoff. As if the 15 others, parked here weren't his sole property.

It is humongous and has the appearance of an English Princess, extravagant and haughty. The Company logo is plainly painted on the sides and it is hard to miss.

"It would be best if you chose to sit in the front as Mr. Oh prefers to remain in the back" he enlightens me and I nod my head appreciatively.

"Is Mr. Oh here already?" I ask, searching for him.

"Mr. Oh will be arriving shortly. He is attending to an urgent matter with the authorities" he communicates, seemingly uneasy and my curiosity spikes.

Which authorities could he be referring to?

Had something happened at the Company while I was not there or could it be...the police?

"Thank you for helping me, Min Jun. I owe you a favor for this. I want to be in Mr. Oh’s good graces, at least for the duration of this trip" I admit embarrassed.

"Have a safe flight sir" he wishes bowing low and retracing his steps towards the exit.

I retrieve my headphones and sleep mask from the little bag I was using. Setting the Playlist on shuffle I listen to the sea waves crashing against the rocks and try to calm my ragged nerves. I suffered from a minor phobia of heights and tended to over think the consequences of climbing high buildings, flying in airplanes and riding roller coasters.

It wasn't an easy task but somehow I had lulled my body into a relaxed state and was bordering on the edge of drowsiness. Maybe I could just rest for a while and stay out of Mr. Oh's laser vision. I mean the man couldn't nag about me ing things up when I wasn't doing anything per se.

"It must be nice to live such a carefree life Mr. Byun" I hear the foreboding tone and promptly my castle in the sky crumbles. I stand straight and discard the blanket covering my legs.

My luck must have run its course after the dangers I had swerved today.

"Good evening Mr. Oh" I welcome him and ignore the snarky jibe from earlier.

"Inform the attendant that I want a glass of the MacCallan 1926 served" he barks sharply and his foul mood is apparent.

The words shove it where the sun don’t shine are on the tip of my tongue but I swallow them. The universe would be in harmony if we our inner divas have their share of fun.

"Mr. Oh would wish to have a glass of the Macallan 1926" I report the rude demand to the blonde haired, female attendant towering several inches above me. She stands readily holding a tray with the whiskey tumbler and I am baffled. Flashing a pristine smile she takes measured strides to where Mr. Oh is reading the documents from a thick folder and positions the drink in the holder carefully.

"Anything else Mr. Oh?" she practically purrs and I understand the purpose behind her foxy demeanor as she assesses him hungrily.

She is the definition of coy as she tends to him more warmly than was required and I am agitated to find my fingernails digging into the leather of the headrest. This beautiful, poised, curvaceous woman with her bountiful cleavage was triggering an intense dislike in me and leaving behind a bitter taste.

"Nothing at the moment Norma. Can you give me the ETA?" he queries, returning her watchful stare.

"The weather is clear and we are not experiencing any turbulence Mr. Oh, we will be proceeding according to the schedule and landing at 11:40 pm in Hong Kong time" she recites the information given to her by the pilot in command.

"Excellent. Is Chef Yoshihiro accompanying us?" he poses another question, indifferently.

"Yes sir, a traditional six course Japanese meal has been prepare and is ready to be se-"

"You brat I had to close my restaurant early and chase off a regular customer because of your unreasonable cravings" is the gruff reply interrupting her narration.

An old man of medium stature holds a ladle unsteadily and points it at Mr. Oh for every syllable, sloshing the little morsels of the batter he had scooped with it. I instinctively recoil and check my white shirt for the outcome of his handiwork.

"Uncle I cannot eat the food cooked by anyone else" Mr. Oh laughs, a rarity among rarities. I am temporarily stunned by its appearance and don't perceive the statement aimed at me.

A piercing "Mr. Byun" complements the snippy fingers clicking rhythmically and I drag myself from the trance his enjoyment had cast.

"Pardon me?" I interject hesitantly and he simply indicates towards the portfolio he was studying previously. I hurriedly abandon my position by the confused Attendant and occupy the seat housing the case. It contains three, individual files with the phrase Confidential marked horizontally in black, bold letters.

"Those are the documents that we will need for the conference tomorrow. Analyze them thoroughly and remember every single line that has been highlighted. It can be mentioned during the slideshow and you will be required to change them appropriately" he instructs lazily.

"Right now?" I consider incredulously. My nausea would render me unconscious if I read or wrote something in this state.

"No Mr. Byun we shall put it forward until it is convenient for you" he grates out with enough sarcasm to sour an entire ocean of salt water.

"I wouldn’t wish to make Mr. Oh wait" I surrender without further ado. The dreadful night was becoming longer and slower.

The papers are the written form of a severe migraine and all the professional jargon that is littered in every sentence only worsens the experience. I plough through the pages mechanically and take notes in the notepad I carried.

The presentation itself was lengthy and extremely vital to expanding the new branch. I had seen Mr. Oh pore over thousands of records and demos each day in preparation. If he wasn't present in the meeting, he was cooped in his cabin, approving or disapproving every stage of the planning and driving the staff members to draw better proposals. There was no comparison to his work ethic; it was absolutely impeccable and his priorities were singularly focused in delivering astounding results.

I am so absorbed in the assignment that I don’t notice the leggy, blonde attendant impatiently expecting me to the clean the tray, I was using as an improvised desk until she tapped my shoulder forcefully.

"Sir the dinner is being served. Kindly tidy this clutter" she entreats frigidly and her earnest performance is completely missing. Someone must have had a big bowl of flakes.

"Please" I lead after organizing things in their rightful place and receive a taut stretch of her lips. The meal is lavish and I can barely recognize two dishes amongst the delicious courses. I had eaten at almost every restaurant in South Korea and could scarcely recognize what I was gobbling. The silver chopsticks slowed down my pace and reminded me of how awful I was in clasping them.

"Mr. Byun your chopsticks keep falling because you're clutching them like a toddler" Mr. Oh criticizes from the opposite seat. Startled, I drop them again and pray for the power to teleport from one place to another in a matter of seconds or at least to be invisible.

Unfortunately this wasn’t X-Men and I was no mutant.

"Mr. Oh I don't use these often as they can be rather dangerous. You never know when it might end up stuck inside your throat" I beam innocently.

"I suppose that is possible when your coordination is pathetic at best" he concedes plainly and misses my scathing glares.

"Of course Mr. Oh, not all of us can be blessed with your…talent" I retort, voice dripping sarcasm.

It really is a gift to extinguish people's joy by his mere presence.

"Have you completed your analysis of the reports Mr. Byun?" he dismisses my jab.

"Yes sir. I believe the presentation will go smoothly" I say confidently.

"Let's hope for both our sakes, that is the truth Mr. Byun" he reverts sternly and the insinuation in the air is strong. It was my skull on the chopping block if things went wrong.

"Sir we'll be arriving at our destination in 15 minutes and the Presidential Suite has been booked at the Four Seasons" Norma updates and her sickly sweet smile appears again. This diabolical woman.

When the plane lands there is a limo awaiting to chauffeur us to the hotel and I go through the motions robotically. The checking in is finished en route and we enter from the VIP gate avoiding the additional disturbances.

Though, our arrival had been hidden from the media, there is a throng of girls crowding the VIP lounge and they scream in delight, swarming us at once. For the first time I am thankful for the security detail always attached to Mr. Oh as they shield us from the onslaught of starving fans who wanted nothing but a chunky piece of the Oh Sehun.

They had brought large and sleek cameras with lenses, the size of my arm. The whizz, of the countless shutters clicking is drowned by the explosive chants of 'Sehun, Sehun, Sehun'.

I was right, Mr. Oh did have his own fan club that tailed him everywhere he went and captured aesthetic pictures of him that made him seem angelic to unsuspecting girls.

If I didn't know any better I would think Mr. Oh was modeling for these shots and feeding the frenzy. But no, the man was only walking and hundreds of teenagers cooed. If we could have an expectation versus reality comparison made of Mr. Oh, I bet these fans would run for the hills and shudder in the aftermath of the nightmare.

"This is your suite, sir" the Bellboy announces when we reach the 43rd level and Mr. Oh paces into the room, locking the door without sparing me a glance.

I am unbothered because for the rest of the night I was free from the Devil's clutch and peace was finally on the horizon for this tired soul.

"Could I have the card to my room? I’ve had a stressful day" I articulate to the bellboy who seems awkward in light of the dramatic scene.

"I am not sure what you mean, sir" he mutters, stumped.

"This is Mr. Oh's room, so which is mine?" I repeat, patiently.

"This is the only room" he reveals simply and those two words cause a crack to develop in my already exhausted sanity. Which was bound to happen eventually when you spent your days with Mr. Oh and nights recovering from his torture.

"How can there be one room when there are two of us?" I argue harshly.

Could he not grasp the absurdity of the situation?

"I am not aware of the details Sir, kindly contact the reception or Mr. Oh's personal butler" he insists and tactfully removes himself from the scene resuming his assigned station.

This privileged brat has a presidential suite and his own butler but conveniently forgot about my existence. The goddamn audacity.

The descent to the reception is agonizingly slow and that allows me to simmer in my anger. It is 12:40 am and the lobby is deserted expect for the petite lady manning the desk attired in the staff uniform.

"Excuse me" I alert her to my presence.

"Good evening Sir how may I be of assistance?" she offers pleasantly and it feels like she might relieve me of my predicament.

"There seems to have been some misunderstanding in regards to the number of rooms we reserved. Our Company had specifically arranged for two but we've only gotten a suite so far" I describe, mustering more courtesy than I thought possible, considering the temper I was sporting.

"We are terribly sorry to hear that Sir. May I please know under whose name the reservation was made?" she enquires, apologetically.

"Oh Sehun" I provide and her nimble fingers freeze on the keyboard. Go figure. The man was a force to be reckoned with even when he was not physically present.

"Please give me a moment sir" she stammers, typing frantically.

"No pressure” I yield sympathetic to her fear.

"According to our register, a single reservation was made under the Director's name" she recounts, perplexed.

"Are you absolutely sure? Could you please check again?" I suggest panicked at the image of having to find a hotel at this time in a city whose language I did not speak and its people I did not know.

"Sir, I'm afraid the conclusion is the same, Mr. Oh is our regular patron and usually he is unaccompanied" she divulges, considerate to my plight. I was on the verge of collapsing after working nearly 18 hours and this was the last thing I needed on my already full plate.

Did I run over a friggin puppy to have this intensely, excruciatingly ty fate?

"Are there other available vacancies?" I weep silently and massage the soreness from my neck.

"I apologize for the inconvenience but everything is occupied sir" she confirms and I nod in defeat.

That is just spectacular.

I flop onto the couch in the lobby, utterly drained and think of an alternative to the problem I was stuck in. The aromatic scent of tea leaves invade my nostrils and I exhale contentedly. Deciding to grab a cup, I brace myself and proceed upstairs to Mr. Oh's suite to deliver the news.

It is obvious I have to fend for myself and find a proper solution. I better tell his highness about the change in the plan before leaving or he would blame me and I will have to grovel for his forgiveness.

Squeezing a thermos full of steaming Flowery Earl Grey tea, I contemplate whether to knock on Mr. Oh's door or not, when it swings open by itself and a chubby man escorts me inside.

"Mr. Woojin did you forget something?" Mr. Oh calls appearing in the lit foyer.

"It is not Mr. Woojin" I utter cautiously.

"What are you doing here Mr. Byun?" he probes and his indifference speaks volumes.

"There is a small dilemma" I initiate and instantly his expression turns grave.

"It is nothing as awful as you're imagining" I defend immediately and the tension in his shoulders dissipates.

"Be more precise Mr. Byun, I do not tolerate ambiguity" he snaps.

"Since Mr. Oh always comes alone to the hotel, the reservation was made only for you and there are no vacancies. Therefore I will be staying elsewhere" I rush through my story and don’t give him an opportunity to refuse.

"So if you need anything please...call me" I offer begrudgingly when he is pokerfaced.

"Mr. Byun what I gather from your inadequate explanation is that if there is an urgency, I will have to wait for you to arrive from whichever third rate motel you might discover in the middle of the night, that could possibly be very far from here?" he simplifies, his incredulousness increasing with each word.

"Essentially. Yes" I accept without beating around the bush.

"Mr. Byun in the time that you have worked for me, have you ever found me waiting for someone?" he raises and his attitude remains stoic.

"No" I respond reluctantly. Everybody treated him like he was a category five hurricane and avoided any sort of confrontation or conflict.

"And I am not about to start the habit for your sake" he deadpans and I groan inwardly.

"What would have me do Mr. Oh?" I sigh tiredly.

"You'll be staying in my suite" he declares and I am gaping hugely.

What on earth was happening?

Why was I being tormented?

What had I done to deserve this sheer torture?

How could I possibly remain in the same room with a man who was offended by my mere existence?

"Mr. Oh are you asking me to stay with you?" I practically shriek as I follow him.

"I didn't ask Mr. Byun I told you" he counters arrogantly.

"B-bu-but Mr. Oh!" I exclaim trying to convey how appalling this arrangement was for me.

There was no guaranteeing what I would or would not do if I was forced to spend another minute with him.

"Is there a problem?" he demands sternly but I don't and cannot forfeit my stand.

"Yes Mr. Oh. I see one King size bed and we can't..we can't...I mean it’s not reasonable to share it" I splutter, the horror of this scenario dawning harder.

"There is a rollaway bed Mr. Byun" he says impassively and the said bed creeps into view. I pump my fists and nearly weep in unrestrained joy. This was heaven compared to lying in the same space as the Spawn of Satan.

"Oh" is all I mention and he enters the enormous bathroom closing the door with a resounding click.

I did not have the energy or the resolve to fight this anymore and put my bag in the spare wardrobe ready to fall asleep. Despite the circumstance the mattress was inviting and my eyelids were drooping shut on their own, however, I couldn't doze off without scrubbing the day’s exertion clean.

Later, Mr. Oh returns and I drag my heavy feet towards the loo, collecting the toiletries pouch. The steam wafting from the bath clouds my already foggy vision and I have to blindly guess the path through the haze. I eventually find resistance in the form of a smooth surface and puzzle over what it could be.

"Mr. Byun" came the abrupt reply and I stumble backwards with an unattractive yelp. The mist finally disperses and Mr. Oh scowls his way to where I was stood, clad in the white towel.

"Is it that hard to walk on a flat surface without finding something to slam into?" he scorns and my clumsy comeback gets crushed in my windpipe as I gawk at Mr. Oh's half glory.

The edge of the towel hung low, displaying the flat planes of his stomach and my mouth widens in amazement. I struggle to fathom what in Lord’s name this fortune was and realize awfully late that my eyes weren’t fixated on his face. In reality, they were sweeping all over his deliciously, defined physique.

Mr. Oh worked out.

Like he lifted 25 pound bars and bench pressed 225 kind of worked out.

A flush of unwanted and totally inappropriate heat engulfs me when my sight travels further down his body to the v-line sculpted from marble. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle the gasp that threatened to spill and expose my desire.

My gaze pursued his carved abdomen to his strong chest and broad collars, nicely draped in pale, unblemished skin. It seemed so unreal that my fingers clutched at empty air, aching to confirm their solid and chiseled perfection.

The impatience radiates from Mr. Oh but I did not care. In that instant, I craved to linger quietly and admire Mr. Oh in this manner for a long time. A very, very, long time.

It didn't matter how much I disliked Mr. Oh generally when his superior and glorious magnificence was being flaunted to appreciate. Even I was not petty enough to discredit real beauty when I saw it.

God really took his time creating and molding Oh Sehun into the stunning man he is today. I'm certain his parents played a part in it but not as much as Goddess Venus or the ing God of whoever he maybe.

He was designed to make every normal person feel inferior and crave for him like he was an addiction. There was not a flaw to be found in his features, you could actually use a magnifying glass and examine him but still fail to find a speck of ugliness in him.

For some reason I am confident this will forever be etched in my memory and I am not unhappy about it. On the contrary, I'm gloating when I imagine all the fan girls who would love to be in my position.

"Mr. Byun have you never seen a man before?" Mr. Oh taunts decisively and that tugs me from my daydream.

"I-I ha-hav-ee" I stammer and blush furiously.

"Then were you perhaps solving the mysteries of the universe as you blatantly ogled me?" he scoffs not buying my bull excuse.

"I was not ogling you Mr. Oh, I was merely shocked by your appearance" I claim, warily.

"Why would my appearance startle you when you see me every day?" he prods, unrelenting.

"Because you are a stunning motherer" I mumble under my breath.

"Stop muttering to yourself and speak louder Mr. Byun" he provokes and I ignore the attempt.

Mr. Oh was an expert interrogator and had the skill to wring your confession for anything especially if you were oblivious to it.

"I said it is important for Mr. Oh to maintain his health and get some rest" I evade secretively.

"Lying is completely fine but lying that atrociously is not" Mr. Oh notes, his tone unexpectedly humorous.

"I didn't lie to you Mr. Oh" I whine at his stubbornness and the laughter that gushes from him almost becomes the cause of my death. I hold onto the ledge of the sink and avoid planting my face firmly on the tiled floor. Is this what people mean by too much of a good thing is bad?

"Careful Mr. Byun, those lies can be quite slippery" he snickers and I huff in frustration.

Why won't he let me breathe peacefully?

He either drove me to insanity or teased me to death.

I couldn’t get familiar to the hot and cold character of his.

He was always formidable but then, there were these moments when the playful side would peek and force you to acknowledge the thrill of pleasure it brought along. Those glimpses were between few and far but they were endearing. It made him seem human like the rest of us.

"I'm sure they say that about your ego as well" I grumble and latch the door.

Sweet Baby Jesus what was that?

I literally had one job. One ing job; March to the bloody shower without bumping into anything specifically, not Mr. Oh. But no. I had staggered around as though I had drunk Russian vodka straight from the bottle and done exactly that.

And the ordeal hadn't ended there. I embarrassed myself by staring at him like a teenager who had just hit puberty and wanted to jump the hot neighbor. Now he was bound to assume I have a raging crush on him and that I was no different from the many he had bewitched.

Honestly, I was not infatuated with Mr. Oh (at least not to that extent).

The correct term is, mildly attracted to him.

I strip off my clothes and draw the curtains, keen to be under the cleansing stream of water. It cascades over me and I hold my face to the warm droplets. It's easy to adjust the temperature accurately to my preference thanks to the advanced technology of the system and soon I am groaning in relief.

I wash away my mortification and the nagging pool of longing that had lingered after witnessing Mr. Oh in that manner. My awkward fingers trail a line across my stomach, exerting pressure and hovering above my shaft. I unconsciously caress the sensitive spot of my inner thighs and release a stuttered gasp at the tingling sensation. I continue brushing the expanse of soft skin and tension coils deep in my gut. I felt rather lewd doing this with another person in the close proximity and it would be inconvenient if Mr. Oh were to-

" " I curse loudly.

Why was I acting recklessly? Did I not have an ounce of control?

What was I doing with Mr. Oh five feet away from me? While fantasizing about him nonetheless.

You're tired, my subconscious rationalizes and I agree stricken with immense guilt.

Thankfully, when I exit Mr. Oh is cozily wrapped in the duvet, eyelids closed against the dim light and his breathing deep and relaxed. I skip the 'wallowing in shame' routine and follow suit, snuggling into the spare cot in the other corner of the suite. Sleep overtakes my consciousness is seconds and I am floating amongst the pillows.

Coldness envelops me and there is moisture clinging to me. Soon it is dripping down to my nose and spreading inside my mouth. Heart hammering wildly, I flail to regain my composure but no matter how I supported myself I couldn't contain the pure terror of drowning and the water filled my lungs.

I strain to move my limbs but they are frozen and I can't see what I am fighting against. Suddenly the oxygen disappears and I force myself to wrestle harshly and push persistently.

All at once, the icy water vanishes and I cough continuously, spewing liquid everywhere. Straining to draw in mouthfuls of air I end up wheezing.

"Good morning Mr. Byun" I hear Mr. Oh’s greeting whilst scrambling to compose my throbbing chest. The wetness of the sheets is the first thing I register and then the silver pitcher Mr. Oh dangles carelessly.

"Mr. Oh did you pour water on me?" I shriek, realizing the satisfied glint in his eyes.

"You're a sound sleeper Mr. Byun I had to resort to great measures to awaken you" he explains calmly.

"You could have killed me!" I yell, horrified that he was this relaxed.

"Hardly" he scoffs, dragging the word "I am sure you would have survived."

"And if I hadn't?" I challenge, livid at his inconsiderate behavior.

"Mr. Byun in case you hadn't noticed we are right in the center of the city with all the amenities required. If your condition were to really worsen as you so dramatically implied I would have asked my staff to carry you to the nearest hospital" he clarifies, brows furrowed in displeasure.

"Or you could have shook me until I woke up instead of trying to murder me Mr. Oh" I scold, through gritted teeth.

"It was inconvenient considering the fact that I was already dressed" he claims.

"Mr. Oh what was so important that you had to endanger my life?" I ask curtly although inside I was a raging mess.

"I need a fresh package of the Clive Christian perfume I wear; my housekeeper was careless enough to forget packing it. The hotel will arrange for the cologne and you will have to collect it from them" he communicates.

Sometimes when we rip a paper with our whole might there is that one piece, that manages to stay attached but just scarcely and you wonder how it was possible before tearing it apart wholly.

I was the piece, which was barely hanging on and my sanity or the lack thereof was the proof of that. After weeks of enduring this privileged megalomaniac's torment I finally cracked and burst forth.

"I have always believed hate is an ugly emotion. It takes too much energy and is absolutely worthless. But today more than ever I hate you. I truly detest you Mr. Oh" I say quivering in repressed fury.

"I would say the feeling is mutual Mr. Byun but as you alleged it is a worthless emotion and I don't see the point in giving you the importance by hating you" he states.

If I thought I had been cold to him I couldn't articulate what his tone conveyed. But it was the final straw to my dwindling patience.

I grabbed him by the shirt he was careful not to wrinkle and wipe my soaking head on it. I rub the moisture against him enthusiastically and disregard the steely arms that are trying to control my movements. The more he tried to detach me, the harder I clung on until I was pleased that every bit of water was now firmly soaked in his shirt.

"Mr. Byun you are going to regret this" he growls and it was my turn to smirk boastfully.

"Hardly Mr. Oh, on the contrary I think I’ll survive it" I answer cockily and the grip on my shoulders tightens. I hang my head low to hide the grimace and he rocks me so that I am facing him again.

"Must you always behave like an animal? You are worse than a child" he snarls and I gain sick satisfaction in knowing I did this to him.

"What can I say, Mr. Oh you bring out the best in me" I observe gladly.

"Mr. Byun you seem very keen in extending your stay with us. Shall I notify the legal team to extend our contract?" he threatens crowding me till, the back of my knees meet his bed and I gulp. It was brutal to imagine spending a year with him but if he were to increase the time period, I wasn’t aware how lengthy or how terrible it would be for me. Nonetheless, it is annoying that he recognizes my weaknesses and derives immense joy in stabbing it.

"Mr. Oh you can extend it all you want. If I am staying then you are going to have to bear me that much longer and believe me when I tell you I won't be making it easy for you" I remark, standing on my tippy toes until we were eye level.

"You wouldn't necessarily be working as my Secretary. I heard Miss. Priscilla requested to retire and Yunho will require a replacement" he muses and I have the urge to smack the smug smile off his face.

"Mr. Oh you wouldn't" I sniffle at the thought.

"I would" he asserts the devilish leer returning.

"I have done nothing to deserve that" I protest.

"Let me be the judge of that Mr. Byun" he affirms leaning down so our noses touch and his breath fans across my lips.

"Mr. Oh has anyone told you how unbearable you are?" I grouch and dig my nails into his wet sleeves, hoping to draw blood or at least leave permanent marks.

I had no means of convincing him and I did not wish to beg him even when the situation was this dire. I'd like to keep my dignity intact. Thank you very much.

"Frequently. Under different context of course" he professes and it is impossible to miss the underlying meaning. I am rendered speechless and flush crimson red. My flustered state encourages his pride and he grins, enjoying the hole I was digging for myself.

I try to loosen his clasp on me but he doesn't budge and instead puts both my wrists in one of his enormous paws. I am confused when his free hand travels upwards and cringe believing he might smack me but actually he my scruffy hair.

In the beginning it is a soft pat, mostly hesitant and later he fixes the strands that must have been tangled.

His touch is light and careful.

He smoothens a few locks behind my earlobe and I shiver violently. I had to change my clothes; the cold was affecting me.

"Mr. Oh?" I squeak beyond shocked.

"Hmmm" he hums in response and his unyielding chest rumbles beneath my palm.

His fingers slowly glide below and tenderly ghosts along the line of my jaw. Goosebumps trail all over me when he tilts my chin upwards and I exhale shakily

“Why do you remind me so much of him?” he whispers near my throat and I am lost, helpless and spellbound.

Suddenly the invading heat is gone and I am lying flat on the bed that smells of him.

He left.

I pant desperately and attempt to gather my wits. I still had to run that errand for Mr. Oh and probably buy him a new shirt but my legs had turned into jelly. Every part that he had traced burned in memory.

What has he done to me?

And who did I remind him of?