Ealina stormed into the office, her expression fuming with frustration. She slammed a file onto her desk, startling Lyra, who had just taken a sip of her coffee.
"Dude, what happened? Why do you look so mad?" Lyra asked, wide-eyed.
Ealina groaned and crossed her arms. "He's not who we thought he was."
"Who? What are you talking about?" Lyra leaned forward, clearly intrigued.
Before Ealina could reply, Aren chimed in from behind his desk. "Ryan," he said in a low, suspicious voice.
Lyra looked between them, confused. "Can someone please explain what's going on?"
Ealina dropped into her chair, running a hand through her hair. "I used to think Ryan was an inspiration. A self-made man with a heart for art. But today I saw the real him—rude, arrogant, and dismissive."
Lyra blinked. "Wait, what exactly happened?"
Ealina recounted everything—the art gallery, the child, the spilled paint, and Ryan's accusations. "He actually said I did it on purpose to get his attention. Can you believe that?"
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Wait… why were you holding the paint tray in the first place?"
Ealina sighed. "An artist asked me to pass it to him. I was just helping out, and then the accident happened."
Lyra laughed. "Ealina, you have to admit—it sounds like a scene from a drama."
Ealina shot her a glare and gave her a playful slap. "Shut up. Not everything is a joke. And you," she turned to Aren, "how did you know what happened? You weren't even supposed to be there."
Aren gave a casual shrug. "Manager bribed me with a bonus to cover the event."
Ealina rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Let's go eat. I'm starving after all this."
---
At the Restaurant
The trio entered a cozy restaurant for lunch. Just as they were about to sit, Ealina froze. Ryan was there too, seated at the far end, angrily reprimanding a waiter for delivering the wrong order.
Her fists clenched. "Unbelievable," she muttered, taking a step forward.
Aren noticed and quickly grabbed her wrist. "Don't."
"Can't you see how he's treating that poor guy?" she snapped.
Aren said, "The waiter has his own voice—if he's not speaking up, it's probably because he's bound by duty. Think about it. What do you expect to happen if you step in? Do you think he'll thank you? No, he might lose his job for causing trouble. That's why he's staying silent."
Ealina leaned back in her seat and observing him that how can she not understand the person, because what he shows the world is different. She watched Ryan carefully. Something about him unsettled her—not just his behavior, but the way he carried himself. The calm exterior didn't match the storm underneath.
---
Ryan's Side
Meanwhile, Ryan sat in silence, the anger slowly ebbing away. His assistant, Jace, approached cautiously.
"Sir, you need to control your anger."
Ryan clenched his jaw. "Jace, I'm trying. But if I let myself relax too much, you know what could happen. I haven't found a way to balance it yet."
Jace—his royal soldier—had once tried to stop Riven during the great battle centuries ago. But was defeated. He possesses the power of lightning strikes, a force both precise and destructive and had always been by Ryan's side—loyal, unwavering.
"Sir, your power is growing unstable. If your emotions keep triggering it, we'll have more than angry outbursts to worry about."
Ryan behaves this way because, after centuries have passed, he no longer wants to involve himself in human emotions. In the beginning, he wasn't like this—he was kind, open, and emotionally connected. But people took advantage of his nature and deceived him. Over time, he learned the hard way that emotions made him vulnerable. Now, he keeps his heart guarded, refusing to let anyone in.
Ryan leaned back in his chair, silent. He hadn't aged a day in over 700 years. Immortality came at a cost—betrayals, wars, and a growing distance from human emotions. The more he tried to connect, the more he was hurt. So he stopped trying. He buried the old Ryan deep beneath the shell of the CEO the world admired—and feared.
---
Next Day at the Office
Ealina arrived at her desk the next morning, still replaying the encounter from the exhibition over and over in her mind. The memory of Ryan's cold demeanor, his sharp words, and the way he dismissed her like she was nothing more than a nuisance gnawed at her thoughts.
She had once admired him—from afar, through interviews and articles, imagining a passionate leader behind the company she had always dreamed of working for. But yesterday, the illusion shattered.
And suddenly her computer pinged with a notification. She opened the email—and froze.
It was a job offer.
From The Art of Life.
The very company she had once built her dreams around. The same company whose CEO had made her blood boil just 24 hours ago.
Without wasting a second, she stormed into the manager's cabin. "Sir, what's the meaning of this?"
The manager looked up calmly. "You received an offer from The Art of Life. They were impressed by your coordination and creativity during the exhibition. Ryan personally sent word."
Ealina blinked. That last part hit harder than she expected. Ryan personally sent word? The man who had insulted her, accused her, now wanted her on his team?
She blinked in disbelief. "I don't want it. Please reject it."
"The manager looked at Ealina, puzzled. 'Wasn't it your dream to work for that company? What changed now?' he asked."
Ealina's gaze dropped. For a brief second, she couldn't find the words. How could she explain the gut feeling, the tension, the strange pull and repulsion she felt when she was around Ryan?
Finally, she said quietly but firmly, "I'm happy working here. That place… it's not what I imagined."
With a puzzled expression, the manager picked up the phone and dialed Ryan's office. Jace answered.
"She's declining the offer," the manager said.
On the other end, Jace's expression didn't change. He turned toward Ryan, who sat quietly behind his massive desk.
"She said no," Jace informed him.
Ryan didn't react outwardly. But inside, something stirred again—that same strange unease he felt when he first saw her. Who was she, really? And why couldn't he stop thinking about her?
The image of her flashed in his mind—determined eyes, hands trembling yet brave as she tried to break his chains, ignoring her own safety to calm the storm inside him.
He didn't understand it. But something had changed. And it was just the beginning.