(BL) A Regretful Revenge

The invitation came in an embossed envelope, laid neatly on his desk just after lunch.

"Private Corporate Mixer – Attendance by Invitation Only."

And at the bottom, in gold ink, the signature that made Micheal's pulse skip.

Ken Himora – CEO, Himora Corp.

Micheal didn't smile. He didn't need to.

He had been waiting for this.

---

The event was held at a luxury rooftop bar in Minato, Tokyo, glass walls, warm lighting, jazz humming low beneath the noise of tailored suits and clinking glasses.

Micheal had come prepared. His suit was sleek, matte black with a subtle shine. His shirt just tight enough to outline his toned figure beneath the fabric. His jaw was clean-shaven, hair styled effortlessly back. Every inch of him, calculated.

He blended with the executives, offered polite nods, brief smiles. He knew better than to look too eager. His eyes scanned the room with practiced coolness.

And then, he saw him.

Ken.

Standing by the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand, sleeves rolled up just enough to show veins along his forearms. His tie was loose, collar undone. He looked exhausted, and tipsy.

Perfect.

Micheal approached slowly, waited just a few feet away, ordering a drink of his own without so much as glancing at him.

Seconds passed.

Then a voice, deep and smooth:

"You're the young one from the finance floor, aren't you?"

Micheal turned slightly. Met his eyes. Held them.

"Micheal Aouken," he said, voice calm. "Executive liaison. I'm surprised you noticed me."

Ken chuckled under his breath, taking a slow sip of whiskey.

"I don't forget faces. Especially ones that don't look like they belong in an office."

That was the crack, the flicker of interest. Micheal didn't miss it.

"Then I must not be doing my job right," he replied smoothly. "Or maybe I'm just built for better rooms."

Ken tilted his head, amused. "Confident."

Micheal leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "You only notice confidence if you're paying attention."

There was a pause, a heavy one. The kind that hangs in the air just before something changes.

Ken didn't look away.

The whiskey was starting to dull his edges. His eyes lingered a little too long.

And Micheal moved in.

He matched Ken's rhythm, asking questions, letting him talk just enough, watching the way his lips moved around the rim of the glass. He laughed at the right moments. He leaned in when Ken leaned back. He brushed his fingertips lightly across Ken's hand when reaching for the bar napkin, accidental, but not really.

And Ken didn't pull away.

"You're interesting," Ken murmured, slightly slurred. "I don't usually talk to anyone this long."

"Maybe I'm not just anyone."

Ken's smirk faltered, not in displeasure, but hesitation. The kind that came when instinct and desire battled silently behind the eyes.

Micheal stepped closer, the air between them charged now. He could smell Ken's cologne, the faint trace of alcohol on his breath.

"You look like you need a break from being… Ken Himora," Micheal whispered.

Ken's gaze sharpened slightly, lips parting. His hand grazed Micheal's arm.

Then.. a small interruption.

A junior executive passed behind them, offering a quick bow to Ken. The spell broke.

Ken straightened, clearing his throat.

"You should get back to your group, Aouken," he said, voice suddenly colder. "Before you get too noticed."

But his eyes, just for a second, still lingered.

Micheal didn't press further. He stepped back with a nod, leaving only a soft smirk behind.

"Noted," Micheal said, voice laced with amusement.

He turned and walked away, but inside, he burned with anticipation.

Ken may have drawn a line tonight.

But now Micheal knew exactly where it was.

And more importantly..

How to cross it.