Aiden had made a name for himself in just a month.
Everyone from interns to senior designers admired his work ethic, attention to detail, and soft-spoken charisma. Even Mina, his no-nonsense supervisor, often found herself impressed by how quickly Aiden grasped complex animation concepts, breathing life into characters with a rare kind of depth.
But while the team buzzed with excitement about the upcoming company feast—where they'd finally meet the mysterious CEO—Aiden remained... detached.
He didn't care much about fancy events or corporate speeches. And truthfully, the thought of some powerful executive evaluating him made his stomach knot up.
He'd tried to sneak out of it, but Mina had cornered him the day before.
> "Don't even think about skipping. The CEO specifically asked to meet you."
That made no sense. Aiden had no idea why a CEO of a major animation firm would single out a junior designer like him.
Still, here he was, standing in the glittering rooftop hall the next evening. Warm yellow lights shimmered above, casting a soft glow over the round banquet tables and velvet curtains swaying in the breeze.
The air was thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the scent of baked garlic bread.
Aiden stood near the punch table, sipping from a small glass of pomegranate juice, trying not to draw attention.
He hadn't touched the desserts.
He hadn't talked to anyone for the last ten minutes.
He just wanted this to end.
Then he heard it—the polite clinking of a spoon against a glass, drawing the room into silence.
Mina stepped up beside a tall, dark-haired man in a tailored charcoal suit.
> "Everyone," Mina smiled warmly. "Please welcome the CEO of Crimson Feather Studios—Mr. Sion Elenhardt."
The crowd erupted into applause.
Aiden wasn't really looking.
Not until Mina nudged him gently and said, "That's your cue."
He glanced up—and the moment their eyes met across the room, time froze.
That face.
Aiden's fingers slipped.
His hand jerked.
The glass of juice tilted wildly, and in the next split second—splat—a bright red splash stained the white silk of the CEO's shirt.
The room gasped in horror.
Aiden's eyes widened. His pulse roared in his ears like thunder.
"…Oh my god—" he croaked, instinctively stepping back.
The CEO—Sion—blinked, then slowly looked down at his ruined dress shirt, and then back up at Aiden.
Silence.
Aiden's throat tightened. "I—I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—!"
He reached for a napkin, almost knocked over another glass in his panic, and then froze again when Sion stepped forward.
For a moment, it felt like everyone held their breath.
But instead of anger, Sion smiled.
A faint, slow curve of his lips.
> "You've got good aim," he said dryly.
A few employees laughed awkwardly, unsure whether this was a joke or a prelude to firing someone on the spot.
Aiden, however, wasn't laughing.
He was staring at Sion's face, heart hammering in disbelief.
That wasn't just a handsome CEO.
That was Shinomi.
Older, yes.
Clean-cut, wearing modern clothes, his hair styled and expression unreadable.
But it was him.
The jawline. The eyes. The shape of his smile. The subtle flicker of amusement behind the cool exterior.
Shinomi.
He was here.
In this world.
And looking right at him.
Aiden's breath caught in his throat.
"Mr. Aiden," Sion said, tilting his head. "I believe we were meant to meet. Why don't we talk… in private?"
Aiden opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
He could only nod slowly, following behind him as the room parted to let them through.
Ren hadn't come back to Shinomi.
Shinomi had come to find Aiden.
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