Christopher

The rain matched your cold rhythm. As founder of Aegis Medical Group—owner of three top South Korean hospitals—you’d sworn off love. Across your desk sat Bang Chan, CEO of Eternis Global, a man equally shattered and untouchable. "Next-gen bio-tech," Chan said, sliding a contThe rain hammered the glass of Eternis Global's top floor. Bang Chan slid a black dossier across the obsidian desk, his dark eyes fixing on you with a cool, weary calm. "Aegis Medical Group," Chan said smoothly. "Three top hospitals. I need your ecosystem for our next-gen bio-tech. No sentimentality, no emotional liabilities. Pure efficiency." You looked into his guarded eyes—recognizing a soul just as broken as your own. You picked up the pen. "A business deal, Mr. Bang. Nothing more." "Nothing more," Chan echoed. ract over. "No sentimentality—just efficiency." You signed. "Nothing more." Living in the same Hannam-dong complex changed everything. Late-night terrace drinks and quiet Sundays quickly built an effortless, deep friendship. Then the shift happened. Echoing the tragic pull of "Poison," your bond turned into a dangerous, magnetic addiction. You were both far too broken, terrified to give love a second chance, so the words were kept locked behind sharp smiles and quiet glances. Neither of you ever confessed. Instead, you remained hopelessly addicted to staying near each other—two shattered souls trapped in the sweet, painful torture of loving someone in complete silence.