Min Jun-ho hated being touched.
Her hand barely grazed his shoulder, and the shiver of revulsion was immediate.
— Don't do that again. — His voice was cold.
He was the youngest heir of the Min family, an empire built on legal deals and silent executions. His club was the only territory he truly called his own. And even there, he couldn't breathe in peace.
The woman stepped back, awkward. She was MJ Transport's CFO and clearly thought that gave her a free pass to invade his space.
— I'm 38, Jun-ho. I can still have some fun, you know? — she said, trying some cheap charm.
— Have all the fun you want. Just keep your hands off me.
She laughed, embarrassed, but still tried to sit beside him. Jun-ho ignored her. He preferred watching the dancers, not out of desire, but out of respect. He admired their dedication. Each of them was flawless: pretty, friendly, confident. And most importantly, they respected boundaries.
— You're really handsome, Min... — the woman pushed on.
— That's enough, Kim. — His tone sharpened. — I'm not interested.
She slid her hand down his arm.
— Just curious about the rumors...
— Security. — The word came out firm, dry.
The guard showed up like he'd been waiting.
— Miss Kim, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. And don't come back.
Her eyes went wide with disbelief. Jun-ho simply nodded. She'd be fired soon enough.
Boundaries exist for a reason. He didn't hate people's curiosity, he hated when they ignored warnings.
Jun-ho stood and headed straight to the bathroom. He scrubbed his arm like he was wiping off an invisible stain, rubbing until his skin burned. He only stopped once the feeling passed.
They never listen. Doesn't matter how clear I make it.
When he came back, he caught eyes with one of the dancers. She smiled, shy. She was pretty. Professional. But above all, she knew how to keep her distance. That's why he liked her. She existed up there, on the stage. Only there. And that was enough.
At the end of the hallway, a man was waiting.
— Shall I drive, sir?
— No. I'll go alone.
— It's a collection. Just a reminder, you don't need to use force...
— You think I can't assess a situation? I might even forgive the debt if I find it necessary.
— Your father won't like that.
— Then he can dock it from your paycheck.
The guard's silence was answer enough. Old man Min only cared about numbers lining up. The rest? Screw it.
At the debtor's house, the scene was almost comical. Kim Soo, neck-deep in debt, flaunting like a billionaire with his fiancée. Flowers, fancy dinners, ridiculous rings. An insult.
Jun-ho didn't need to use violence. Just taking the engagement ring as collateral would've been enough, it was the most valuable thing the idiot owned. But he used force anyway. And the problem was solved.
On the way back to the club, his phone rang. Mom.
— I scheduled a date for you tomorrow, sweetheart! She's a lovely girl.
— I told you to stop with the matchmaking.
— It's just dinner. You never know, you might fall in love!
Jun-ho sighed.
— Sure, Mom. Thanks. — He said, knowing it'd be just another waste of time.
He had no libido. Never did.
Touch repelled him. Made him nauseous. He tried. Tried so hard he got betrayed. Humiliated. The shame shattered what was left of his reputation. He never imagined it could be such a massive obstacle, and his parents still expected him to be the next heir to Golden... but only if he found "true love."
As if he were the lead in some twisted fairytale.
One block from the club, a figure dashed into the street. Too fast.
Jun-ho hit the brakes on instinct. The car screeched to a halt, inches from the guy, who faceplanted on the asphalt.
A crowd began to form. Phones in the air. Shit. Running someone over would ruin everything.
He jumped out fast, before the filming got worse.
— You alive?
— Very! Almost died, huh? You were quick. — The guy grinned, slurring his words, clearly drunk.
— Are you stupid? Why'd you run into the street like that?
— To get to the other side. — he answered dead serious. Then he staggered again, leaning on him.
— Don't touch me. — Jun-ho stepped back. The guy dropped again, laughing.
— Oh, chill out... you came to pick me up, right? I called you!
— You didn't call me shit. I'm not a damn rideshare.
The boy turned his head. Dark hair fell to the side, revealing his face. Jun-ho's eyes widened.
— Park Salin?
The boy blinked, a little dazed.
— Me? — he asked, confused.