Even with the loud music reverberating around them, Alexander’s voice rang through clearly. In this dynamic, Yeon Yiseo was obviously the one who had more to lose, yet the way Alexander spoke and carried himself made it feel like the opposite.
“Come to the house when you’re done here. I’ll have a car waiting. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“…Wait a moment.”
Yeon Yiseo instinctively reached out and grabbed Alexander’s arm as he turned to leave. It was only when Alexander stopped moving that Yiseo realized what he’d done. Embarrassed, he let go.
“Sorry. I just… wanted to thank you.”
“I’m just doing what I should.”
“Even so.”
At that, a small smile tugged at Alexander’s lips.
Suddenly, the venue burst into commotion. Yeon Yiseo needed to go see what was going on. But leaving Alexander like this made his feet feel heavy. Almost as if he sensed that hesitation, Alexander spoke.
“Seems like someone out there needs you.”
“Yes. Excuse me. I’ll see you later.”
With just a few words, Alexander had put Yeon Yiseo at ease. He gave a polite nod and turned toward the source of the disturbance.
“What are you doing? You should be apologizing!”
“What are you talking about? You’re the one who bumped into me!”
“God, if you’re gonna take photos, at least pay attention!”
One of them had been holding a cocktail and trying to take a selfie, only to bump into the other and spill the drink. The whole thing had blown up because neither was willing to back down—both broadcasting the incident live for their followers, their pride keeping them from apologizing first.
A crowd had gathered around them, phones out, recording with amused anticipation. No one made a move to intervene. Naturally, both people in the center were also filming the incident themselves. They were influencers, after all—it wasn’t surprising, though it was still disheartening.
It seemed the security team or event staff hadn’t arrived yet. Yeon Yiseo pushed through the crowd and stepped into the circle. He quickly ran through the guest list in his head to identify the two people at the center.
“Excuse me. Good evening, Mr. McCarthy, Ms. Dickinson. May I have a moment? I’m Yeon Yiseo from Dymine—you might recall I greeted you earlier during check-in.”
All eyes turned to him as he spoke. Yeon Yiseo took a swift read of the situation. Dickinson’s face was flushed—clearly tipsy—and the strong scent of alcohol lingered with every breath she took.
“Let’s move inside and talk this through calmly.”
McCarthy seemed ready to follow Yeon Yiseo’s suggestion, but Dickinson clearly wasn’t. Instead, she looked irritated by the intrusion.
“Move inside? No thanks. I didn’t even do anything wrong—why should I have to go anywhere?”
She was more hot-tempered and self-centered than he expected. With people like her, time was usually the only cure. In a state like that, no suggestion would get through. But Yeon Yiseo didn’t have the luxury to wait this one out—he had to diffuse things now.
“I understand. But with the music this loud, it’s hard to have a proper—”
“Shut up, you fucking rice-eating chink.”
The slur came out of nowhere, sharp and hateful. The surrounding crowd jeered, but it was all performative—just the kind of reaction you’d expect from spectators watching a fight. They weren’t here to stop it—they were just here for the drama.
It wasn’t the first time Yeon Yiseo had been on the receiving end of this kind of language. He’d heard it all: slurs about his eyes, cheekbones, his appearance. It had been painful at first. But eventually, he realized insults based on things he never chose for himself said more about the people throwing them than about him.
Still, it wasn’t something you ever truly get used to. But right now, the insult itself wasn’t the priority—resolving the situation was.
“I completely understand how upset you are, Ms. Dickinson. But in order for me to discuss a compensation arrangement with you, I’ll need you to calm down—just a little.”
“I am calm. I’m done talking to your slant-eyed ass. Go get your superior!”
If things reached a point where she was completely unmanageable, there’d be nothing more he could do. He was trying to prevent that—but then someone placed a hand on his shoulder.
He turned reflexively and saw Ethan.
“CEO.”
Ethan didn’t look at Yeon Yiseo. His gaze was locked on Dickinson. She scowled at first, until recognition dawned and she curled her lips into an ‘O’. The onlookers also began whispering, eyes lighting up with interest as they recognized him.
“Oh, I know you. CEO of Dymine. Ethan A. Scott, right?”
“I’m sorry you had an unpleasant experience at our private event tonight. We’ll arrange for a limousine to take you home, and of course, we’ll fully compensate you for your soiled outfit. A security staff member will escort you.”
Dickinson had looked ready to argue again—but at the mention of compensation, she hesitated. Ethan’s proposal must have appealed to her, because she and McCarthy both gave nods of agreement. As influencers, they likely saw this as a win. A ride home, reimbursement, and likely great content for their next video—it was a hard offer to turn down.
The way Ethan had immediately zeroed in on the kind of deal that would lure them in was impressive. He wasn’t just an extreme-dominant Alpha—he was a seasoned businessman who’d dealt with more than his share of egos. His charisma, honed over time, was in full effect.
Yeon Yiseo found himself captivated, simply watching him handle everything with ease.
The crowd, now bored of the resolved drama, turned their attention to the popular DJ who had just taken the stage, cheering wildly.
“I’m sorry, CEO.”
Yeon Yiseo apologized for not defusing the situation quickly enough.
“You don’t need to bow your head over that kind of comment.”
So he’d heard Dickinson’s slur. Ethan said Yiseo didn’t need to bow—but that only applied when both parties stood on equal ground. Sometimes, in this business, you had to smile through worse just to keep things moving.
The real issue was that Yeon Yiseo had failed to take control of the situation.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“Used to comments like that?”
Ethan repeated the question, wanting confirmation.
That was a mistake. This wasn’t the time to talk about his past. He should be apologizing for not resolving the situation cleanly, for forcing the company CEO to step in.
Yeon Yiseo bowed his head slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I didn’t say that to make you apologize. I just—”
Ethan trailed off mid-sentence. Yeon Yiseo waited for him to continue, but he simply let out a light sigh.
“It’s over now, so there’s no need to dwell on it. Head home for the day.”
“But I haven’t finished my work yet.”
“If the CEO says you can leave, then it’s not a problem.”
He had a point. Still, the sudden dismissal was a little jarring.
“…Understood, CEO. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Yeon Yiseo bowed and turned to leave. Ethan looked like he wanted to say something else but stopped himself, shaking his head slightly as if to dismiss the thought. Then he waved him off.
Freed from the party much earlier than expected, Yeon Yiseo opened his phone and searched for Alexander’s number. He hesitated for a moment, but it made more sense than calling another driver—Alexander had said he’d send a car, and they hadn’t parted long ago, so he probably hadn’t left yet.
He pressed the call button. The dial tone barely rang a few times before Alexander picked up.
“Yes, this is Yeon Yiseo. I was wondering—have you left yet?”
—“No, I haven’t.”
“I’ve just been dismissed. If it’s not too much trouble, could I ride with you?”
—“Of course. Please come to exit B—the one leading to the parking area.”
“Got it. I’ll be there soon.”
He ended the call and made his way through the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot the glowing “B” sign in neon lights. When he arrived, Alexander was already there waiting.
Without realizing it, Yeon Yiseo had started walking faster. By the time he reached Alexander, he was slightly out of breath.
“Did you wait long? I’m so sorry—I hurried, but it was really crowded, so it took a while.”
He realized he was rambling—saying far more than necessary. But he wanted to explain why he hadn’t arrived sooner, even if it didn’t matter.
“I just got here myself. No need to apologize.”
Alexander’s soft voice had a calming tone, as if chiding gently. He positioned himself so Yeon Yiseo was walking on his left side, almost like an escort. It seemed second nature to him, as if this kind of etiquette was ingrained.
People who had dated him might’ve been used to this—but to Yeon Yiseo, it was unfamiliar. He was more accustomed to serving than being served.
