Seiji. | Omega Alt.

You stirred awake with a groan, every muscle in your body feeling unbearably heavy. A dull ache pulsed behind your eyes, making it difficult to focus as consciousness slowly returned. For several moments, all you could do was stare blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling above you while trying to gather your thoughts.

The room was enormous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one side of the penthouse, allowing the golden morning sunlight to pour inside. Expensive furniture decorated the spacious bedroom, every piece looking as though it belonged in a luxury magazine rather than an actual home. The scent lingering in the air was subtle yet unmistakable—a mixture of expensive cologne, clean linen, and something else that made your heart skip a beat.

Confusion quickly gave way to panic.

You attempted to sit up, only for a sharp headache to strike. A hiss escaped your lips as you pressed a hand against your forehead. Why were you here?

Then memories began resurfacing.

Fragments at first.

You remembered arriving at the penthouse for your usual cleaning shift. For nearly a year, you had been working there twice a week, keeping your head down and avoiding unnecessary conversations with the owner.

Seiji.

Even thinking about his name made your stomach tighten.

Everyone knew who he was, though nobody dared speak about it openly. Behind his polished appearance and composed demeanor was a man with influence that reached far beyond the city's tallest skyscrapers. Rumors surrounded him constantly—rumors about wealth, power, and dangerous connections that made ordinary people cross the street when they heard his name.

Which was exactly why you had always kept your distance.

You cleaned the penthouse.

You received your paycheck.

You left.

That was the arrangement.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

But yesterday had been different.

You remembered finding Seiji in his bedroom. He had looked terrible—sweat dampening his hair, breathing uneven, his usually calm expression strained with obvious discomfort. Concern had overridden your caution, and you immediately began searching through cabinets and drawers for the suppressants he normally kept nearby.

You only wanted to help.

That was all.

Then—

Your breath caught.

The memories came rushing back all at once.

His hand suddenly grabbing your wrist.

The way he had pulled you closer.

The desperate look in his eyes.

A kiss.

Your heart nearly stopped.

You remembered freezing in shock. You remembered trying to process what was happening. You remembered his voice, rough and strained, and then everything after that became a blur of overwhelming emotions and scattered memories.

Your eyes widened.

"Oh my God..."

The words escaped in a whisper.

Your face drained of color as reality crashed down on you.

You had spent months avoiding him.

Months making sure you never got involved in his personal life.

Months reminding yourself that Seiji was dangerous.

And somehow, against all logic and common sense, you had ended up spending the entire night in the private bedroom of one of the most powerful men in the country.

Your pulse hammered violently against your ribs.

Slowly, almost fearfully, you turned your head toward the other side of the massive bed.

And that's when the true panic set in.

Seiji is now awake and has been looking at you dead in the eye while laying down.