Days later, Shin Keir had returned to his usual routine—if one could call a schedule packed with ruthless contract negotiations and backbreaking meetings "routine."
He looked less like a CEO and more like a war general ready to decimate a continent, clipboard in one hand, espresso in the other.
In such an apocalyptic workplace, Secretary Yun operated like zombies are closing in. He moved at the speed of light, delegating tasks, barking orders, and sparing only seconds to breathe. His eyes were bloodshot, his tie slightly askew, but his efficiency was a thing of legend.
"We'll re-evaluate the present financial report and compare it with data from the past two years this week," he concluded crisply, sneaking a glance at his boss.
Shin Keir didn't respond. He sat at the head of the long, sleek conference table like a monarch from some unforgiving dynasty. His dark eyes were as bottomless as a pit of despair—and just as inviting. Cold. Sharp. Lethal. He didn't need a throne; that leather chair might as well have been one.
The atmosphere in the room was so tense, even the air molecules were on edge. It was barely noon, but the temperature felt like the underworld had left its door ajar.
Who had dared offend the demon emperor today?
What no one knew was that Shin had gotten a full night's rest—at least physically. Psychologically, however, it was another matter entirely.
The dream had returned.
Same eerie forest. Same surreal woman in the crimson dress. But this time, the setting had changed slightly. She now stood at the edge of a cliff made of jagged, glowing red rocks that resembled oversized rubies. Scarlet butterflies floated around her like living embers. A thick fog blanketed the area like some forbidden realm between worlds.
She turned to him, her smile soft, sweet—and somehow tragic.
She was heartbreakingly beautiful, ethereal yet forlorn, like a love story written in fading ink.
Shin had tried to call out, but the wind swallowed his voice. As he stepped forward, the woman mouthed something. He couldn't hear her.
Then, in a horrifying instant, her body tilted, and she plummeted off the cliff.
The despair that followed wasn't just a feeling—it was a full-body, soul-tearing scream that never made it past his throat.
Without hesitation, Shin leapt after her.
He awoke convulsing, drenched in cold sweat. His eyes gleamed with a strange madness, a devil struggling behind the polished CEO exterior. It took a freezing shower and half a bottle of eucalyptus shampoo before he could remotely function like a human again.
And yet, ever since meeting Yeri, this otherworldly bizarre dream had begun.
Coincidence? Maybe.
Scientific? Doubtful.
Curse? Absolutely not.
Shin didn't believe in ghosts, dreams, or spiritual nonsense—but he also didn't appreciate mental anarchy interrupting his 4 AM treadmill routine. He wasn't going to let some cryptic hallucination turn him into a sleepless lunatic.
So, he came to work with a storm cloud over his head, glowering like the Grim Reaper had skipped coffee.
"Ahem… Boss?" Secretary Yun cleared his throat, reluctantly nudging Shin back to the present. If it were up to him, he'd leave the boss to brood, but the board wouldn't dare breathe until the meeting was officially adjourned.
Shin's cold gaze swept across the room.
Most board members were two, sometimes three times his age, and yet not one of them dared question his authority.
They respected him—but also suffered minor heart attacks every time he blinked in their direction.
"Master Ando," Shin said, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder, "I heard your son goes to SC University. How is he?"
The man almost dropped his coffee.
Was this… a trap?
Former Minister of Education, Sports, and Culture, Master Ando had abandoned politics for this board position only a year ago. He had spoken to Shin perhaps twice.
Now, suddenly, this demon had taken an interest in his son?
"My son is doing well," he said cautiously. "His grades are consistently excellent."
"Promising," Shin nodded. "Does he have a fiancée?"
There was a pause. Shin's tone was calm—too calm. Not mocking. Not sarcastic. Just... suspiciously curious.
Why did he care?
Master Ando hesitated, wondering if his son had accidentally seduced someone he shouldn't have.
"We have some potential matches in mind, but he's reserved. Mostly plays online games."
Shin nodded thoughtfully, hiding the flicker of relief in his eyes. So this Levi Ando kid—Yeri's old friend—wasn't a threat. Yet.
"Well," Shin said as he stood, "as long as it doesn't affect his grades, online gaming is a tolerable hobby. Thank you, everyone. That'll be all."
And with that, he left the room.
Silence lingered like smoke. The board members blinked at one another, processing what had just happened.
The Demon Emperor had asked a personal question. Was this a softening of his notorious armor? Or a warning shot before war?
Master Ando sat frozen. He'd done nothing. Why had he been targeted?
Speculations brewed while incredulously exchanging glances, they also have sons and grandsons. Why didn't Shin Keir ask them instead?
How did Master Ando do it?
Master Ando "..."
He really didn't do anything!
As speculation continued upstairs, Shin and Secretary Yun made their way down to the IT department.
"There's an abrupt issue with fund allocation for Project Core," Shin stated. "I want the names of every handler from day one. A detailed list."
"According to the proposal, the team needed more data analysts to expedite the timeline," Secretary Yun replied, already anticipating carnage.
No one in their right mind expected the CEO to appear in the IT department. Ever. That was the finance team's job. But when Shin Keir got bored—or suspicious—he descended like a reaper in Armani.
And when he did, entire departments turned into a madhouse.
Shin stepped out of the elevator like a hammer dropped from Olympus. The floor trembled under his sleek leather shoes.
He has an unpredictable and terrifying habit of plucking guilty employees who dared to rear their ugly heads.
Depending on his mood, he would randomly visit particular departments.
Without notice, one of the team leaders could be seen army-crawling, hiding behind cubicles, phone in hand, to report to the CIO.
Secretary Yun sighed. The reaction was typical.
One technician whispered in terror, "Why is the CEO here?"
There was no response. Everyone was too busy hiding personal effects, questionable snacks, and anime figurines.
Lucia Hera, a junior technician, saw the chaos as an opportunity. For weeks she'd been plotting ways to encounter Shin Keir but it was completely impossible to bypass his strict security, she couldn't even catch a glimpse of his shadow.
Now, fate had flung open the gates.
Lucia quickly snatched a stack of files and executed "Operation: Delicate Flower."
Scheming to block Shin Keir, she adjusted her skirt, pinched her cheeks for a flustered flush, and bit her lip until her eyes teared up.
Relying on her experience with men, her current appearance looked like a wounded heroine straight out of a tragic drama.
Like a weak and bullied white lily, it could awaken any man's instinct to protect.
Shin Keir was unmissable—domineering height of 190cm, broad-shouldered, and disturbingly handsome. Lucia nearly broke character gawking.
This man is too sinful!
One... two... three... go!
Lucia estimated the distance, pretending to walk in a hurry and with no hurdle, accidentally lost her balance right in front of Shin Keir.
She stumbled strategically, letting papers fly like cherry blossoms on a tragic battlefield. She knelt, fluttering her lashes. "Ah! I'm so sorry, I—"
Papers flew and scattered on the floor.
Excellent acting and kneeling posture. She looked up, expecting drama. Sparks. Maybe destiny.
What she got was... nothing.
Shin Keir walked around her like she was a mop bucket. He didn't flinch. Didn't glance. He moved on as if she were literally air.
Secretary Yun frowned, giving her a strange look, he felt that he had seen her somewhere but couldn't remember where.
It's also a pity that his boss doesn't follow the moral standards. And how could someone tripped on such a wide hallway without any obstructions?
If the problem was her shoes then put something comfortable like flat shoes, the company doesn't have a strict policy for women's footwear, as long as it is formal.
Lucia was left kneeling, her Oscar-worthy performance unacknowledged. She blinked rapidly.
Lucia: "…"
Nearby coworkers rushed over.
"Lucia, are you okay?"
"Did you trip? Did someone push you?"
"We'll take you to the clinic. At least CEO Keir wasn't mad—"
It's exactly because he wasn't mad that she felt miserable, okay?!
Lucia bit her lip in shame but this was the kind of reaction she was expecting, which meant there was nothing wrong with her acting.
Okay. So she failed. But she'd regroup. Next time, she'd do better. Stronger. Sexier. Maybe a fake ankle sprain?
Meanwhile, the company buzzed with whispers. The CEO had visited IT. What did it mean?
A culling? A promotion spree? A bloodbath?
Whatever it was, the first strike had already landed.
And the IT department had drawn first blood.