Their eyes met. Leng Shuang froze as if spellbound, letting her arm circle his waist. He sat dazed atop Kazue Iinoue’s shapely thighs, nestled in her curvaceous embrace, clutching the wine bottle while gazing up at her.

Kazue Iinoue, too, was momentarily stunned, staring at the man’s face up close. For a heartbeat, she didn’t know what to do—only that she wanted to hold him, to keep him cradled in her lap and study him quietly.

Time stilled. Neither moved.

He looked up, bottle hugged to his chest. Tall even among men, he now seemed a docile lamb in her arms—eyes wide and clear, flustered and helpless. To any observer, his usual cool, handsome composure had melted into something utterly endearing.

She looked down. One jade-pale arm wrapped his waist; the other supported the gentle curve beneath. Dominant. Composed. Her captivating phoenix eyes sharpened her regal air. Gazing down at him, she seemed poised to lower her lips to his at any moment.

The scene froze—breathtakingly beautiful.

Handsome man, beautiful woman.

One gazing up. One looking down.

One flustered. One silently studying.

Time slipped by until Kazue Iinoue stirred.

Breathing in his scent, arms locked around his waist, eyes fixed on his sacredly handsome face—a thought surfaced: *Kiss him.*

Press lips to those glistening ones. Capture that alluring mouth.

Just as she began to lean down—

Leng Shuang jolted awake and struggled fiercely.

The unfamiliar face looming closer sent a sharp wave of resistance through him.

“Honored guest… this… this isn’t appropriate!”

His protest worked. Kazue paused. Seizing the chance, Leng Shuang clutched the bottle and scrambled out of her arms.

The perfect moment shattered.

Panting, face flushed crimson, eyes wide with panic and shock.

*Was I just… flirted with?*

He’d adapted well to this world, even acted generously—but being touched by a stranger, especially a woman, made his skin crawl.

Should he slap this coldly beautiful woman?

He didn’t know. Only panic pulsed through him, a nameless shame and embarrassment burning deep.

One last glance. He fumbled the door open and fled.

All he wanted was to escape.

Eighteen years old—competent at work, yet far from weathered by life.

Just… leave.

“What’s wrong?”

Park Seok-min, stationed outside, watched Leng Shuang rush out clutching the bottle, face flushed like a ripe apple—strangely alluring.

She stepped inside. Her mistress sat dazed in a chair, lips parted, expression distant.

A faint frown. *So even the young mistress would do this?*

Kazue Iinoue noticed her, instantly masking all emotion. Ice returned to her posture. She turned her head slightly, phoenix eyes glacial upon the bowing Park Seok-min.

“Young mistress.”

“Some things stay buried. Not a word to my mother.”

Kazue rose. Her voice, cold as deep winter, cut through the room. Park Seok-min shivered.

“Yes!”

*Click-clack.* Crisp footsteps passed her. Park Seok-min followed swiftly.

They descended to the first floor, one after another.

-------

“Leng Shuang? What’s with the wine bottle? Throwing a party in the break room?”

Yu Mo and a few servers had been slacking off playing phones. At hurried footsteps, they pocketed devices, pretending to leave—only to see Leng Shuang.

He looked odd: bottle clutched tightly to his chest like a shield, eyes vacant, forced smile still tinged with flush. Adorably flustered.

“I, I just brought this… for you guys. Hahaha.”

“Looks like he had a drink. Alcohol messes with your head—no wonder,” Yu Mo covered smoothly.

“Yeah… my head’s spinning. Need to rest.”

“Hahaha! Never thought Leng Shuang would slack off! Guess serving Kazue Iinoue’s exhausting.”

“Everyone dreams of being near her—but who can handle that aura?”

“Poor Leng Shuang carried us to an easy win! Red envelopes *and* zero work? Best job ever!”

Laughter filled the room.

“Let me wash your face. Look how red you are,” Yu Mo said gently, leading him away.

In the restroom: “What really happened? Why so strange?”

“N-nothing. Just wine.” Leng Shuang shook his head, gripping the bottle tighter. Wine soaked his sleeve—he didn’t notice.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Yu Mo placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

His best friend’s touch steadied him. Breath slowed. Panic in his eyes shifted to something complex.

Yu Mo understood.

“Ahem—you left. Who’s handling upstairs?”

Leng Shuang’s pupils tightened. *Right. Leaving was rude.*

But… wasn’t *she* the one being inappropriate? Holding him. No apology.

He clenched his fists. Even if she was wrong, complaining would make *him* the culprit.

“I have to go back…” He forced a stiff smile and stepped out.

The boss hurried toward him, face grave.

*Reported. Fired.*

His smile vanished. Two months here—kind coworkers, generous tips that made overtime bearable. Now gone. All because of his “rudeness.”

“Boss, I’m sorry, I—"

“Leng Shuang, you did *great*!!”

Huh?

Huh?! HUH?!

He looked up. Genuine excitement lit the boss’s round face.

*What’s happening?!*

Shouldn’t he be scolded? Fired?

“Miss Kazue Iinoue was delighted! Less than an hour, yet she said you were wonderful!” The stout boss threw her arms wide—then hugged herself in joy.

“I… see.” Leng Shuang stood dumbfounded.

*She didn’t complain. She praised me.*

*He left abruptly… and she wasn’t angry?*

He remembered another guest demanding he strip and dance. He’d walked out. The boss lectured him sternly—no support. He’d felt wronged.

But tonight? Kazue Iinoue—Sakura City’s untouchable icon. A complaint would’ve meant instant dismissal.

“Your red envelope is the largest. My reward to you!” the boss beamed.

“Thank you, boss,” he murmured instinctively.

The boss nodded, then turned to the staff: “Great work today! Red envelopes for all—check accounts soon. Missing one? Tell me!”

“Woo-hoo! Thank you, boss!”

“Boss, you’re the best!”

Cheers erupted. Kitchen staff banged pots like New Year’s.

“Clock out! Hungry? Chefs—cook anything. Even the fancy dishes!”

“Long live the boss!”

Staff swarmed the kitchen, chattering like excited monkeys.

Joy glowed on every face—except Leng Shuang’s.

He stood still, dazed, as if the day felt unreal.

Clutched tight against his chest: the same wine bottle, carried all the way from that private room…