The metallic taste of blood filled Julian’s mouth. Only then did he realize what he had done. Heat rushed to his face as he stumbled back a step, practically flinging Samuel’s hand away in panic.

“I’m sorry!” Julian blurted out in humiliation, lowering his head as he rushed to explain. “I’m really sorry for causing trouble just now. I swear I won’t do something like that again.”

“You…” Samuel’s gaze lingered on Julian’s reddened lips, like he wanted to say something else.

“Samuel, meeting’s about to start.”

Asher pushed open the office door, interrupting them.

Julian instinctively backed away another two steps.

He didn’t dare let Asher see his lips, only lowered his head and said quietly, “Please give me one more chance. I’ll work hard. I promise.”

Samuel said nothing more.

He only reminded Julian not to miss the project meeting.

Julian nodded quickly and fled the office like he was escaping a fire.

Watching his retreating figure, Asher raised an eyebrow curiously. “What exactly did you say to him?”

“Nothing.” Samuel clearly didn’t want to discuss it. He picked up his coat from the chair nearby and slipped it on. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on.” Asher stopped him, his expression turning serious. “Your grandfather’s here.”

For a split second, Samuel’s expression froze.

Then it disappeared just as quickly.

“I know,” he said evenly.

—

Inside the restroom, Julian leaned close to the mirror, carefully checking his lip.

The cut was much smaller than he’d imagined. After putting on lip balm, it was barely noticeable anymore.

Relief immediately flooded through him.

Thank God.

Otherwise there’d be no way he could explain it.

The meeting started shortly afterward.

Julian carried his laptop into the conference room and quietly chose a seat in the corner.

The Synapse AI IPO was a massive project. Their investment bank alone had more than a dozen people involved. Add the law firms and auditors, and the entire project team numbered several dozen.

But what surprised Julian most was the elderly man seated at the head of the conference table.

His hair was completely white.

He barely spoke during the meeting, yet everyone adjusted their reports and proposals around his reactions.

Clearly, his status was extraordinary.

And maybe it was just Julian’s imagination, but Samuel seemed unusually tense during the meeting too. More serious than usual. Sharper somehow.

Only after the meeting ended did Julian finally learn the old man’s identity.

Harold Frost.

Chairman of a Fortune 500 conglomerate. Major shareholder of Apex Capital.

One of the most powerful names in finance.

Samuel had lost his father young.

Harold Frost had raised him personally.

Harold was the definition of a self-made titan. Countless business magazines had covered his rise to power. The most common descriptions attached to him were disciplined, ruthless, and relentless.

Not only was he exceptional himself, but every one of his children had become successful in their own field. Media outlets constantly praised the Frost family as a dynasty of excellence.

Even at his age, Harold still carried overwhelming authority.

His gaze was sharp enough to make a three-year-old cry.

No wonder everyone at the company was terrified of him.

Julian hated dealing with people like that.

Throughout the meeting, he stayed hidden in the corner, doing everything possible to minimize his presence.

Thankfully, his responsibilities really were basic. Despite the title of project coordinator, he mostly handled organizing information and relaying updates.

The real decisions still belonged to Samuel and Asher.

The meeting ran for a long time.

After everyone left, Julian stayed behind to clean up the conference room like usual. Nobody had asked him to. It was simply a habit of his—leaving things organized for the next group.

Suddenly, a cold elderly voice broke the silence from the far corner.

“This was your mistake. Don’t let it happen again.”

A suffocating silence followed.

Then Samuel’s calm, restrained voice answered:

“I understand, Grandpa.”

Only then did Julian realize staying behind had been a terrible idea.

He quickly grabbed his laptop and headed for the door.

As he left, fragments of conversation drifted after him.

“I arranged a meeting for you this week with Miss Hayes. Make time for it.”

“My schedule’s packed. I may not be available.”

“The meeting is already arranged. You’ll go regardless.”

“…I’ll try.”

—

Back at his desk, Julian opened his half-broken laptop and resumed working.

But for some reason, he couldn’t focus.

He kept thinking about what he’d overheard in the conference room.

A strange melancholy settled over him.

So even someone like Samuel Frost… wasn’t completely free.

The thought passed quickly, fleeting and soft, like pitying a stray cat on the side of the road.

Soon enough, the workload swallowed him whole again.

An equity financing project was incredibly complicated, and the process usually stretched beyond six months.

Of course, the returns were equally staggering.

Fees ranging anywhere from several percent to over ten percent were completely normal. For elite investment banks like Apex Capital—with near-perfect approval rates—a single successful project could easily generate over a hundred million dollars in revenue.

Before this, Samuel had led the IPO of a massive internet corporation. The preparation process alone had taken thirteen months. After endless obstacles, the company finally went public, and the stock price surged on the very first day of trading, pushing the valuation beyond a hundred billion.

Apex Capital’s commission from that deal had reportedly exceeded one billion dollars.

It became the most profitable project in company history.

Of course, projects like that were once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

Timing, market conditions, the company itself, luck, ability—everything had to align perfectly.

Julian didn’t dare dream of achieving something like that.

If he could just handle the project in front of him properly, that would already be enough.

Even so, it was still an enormous challenge.

Before this, he’d only revised prospectuses. He’d never followed an IPO from start to finish.

Almost everything had to be learned from scratch.

He worked overtime every single night.

It wasn’t that Julian hadn’t considered refusing part of the workload.

But Samuel was even busier than he was.

Most nights, Samuel was still reviewing documents at two or three in the morning, only to start assigning new work again by six or seven.

Interns were already the lowest-ranking people in the office.

And Julian had grown up being taught that enduring hardship was something honorable.

Little by little, his resistance faded.

Every day, Julian moved expressionlessly between his apartment, the subway, and the office.

The endless workload extinguished his enthusiasm for work far earlier than it should have.

Sometimes he felt less like a person and more like a corpse moving through the city.

The only good news was that Jordan was coming to New York City for a convention.

They arranged to meet for lunch on Sunday.

“That’s terrifying,” Jordan said the second he sat down across from him. “It’s only been two months, and you already reek of corporate burnout.”

Julian deadpanned, “Can’t help it. I’m deeply passionate about labor.”

Jordan laughed. “Still joking around? Guess you’re not completely beyond saving.”

Then he suddenly remembered something.

“Wait. Weren’t you planning to cosplay something? Did you ever do it?”

Julian immediately looked guilty. “No. Work’s been too busy.”

Which was true.

He’d bought the dress a week ago and still hadn’t had time to wear it.

Jordan’s flight was in the afternoon, so after lunch he headed straight to the airport.

Julian didn’t go home immediately.

Instead, he wandered around the neighborhood alone for a while.

Come to think of it, he’d been interning in New York City for over two months already and still hadn’t properly explored the city.

The weather was beautiful that day.

The sky was clear blue, the temperature perfectly mild. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the golden sycamore trees lining the street, scattering shifting patches of light across old brownstone buildings.

Hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, Julian drifted with the stylish crowds along the sidewalk.

There were countless places to explore nearby.

Trendy photo spots. Historic residences. Small independent boutiques.

“Julian?”

A familiar voice suddenly called out as he passed a tailor shop.

Julian looked up.

Someone wearing a rose-pink modern Chinese jacket and amber sunglasses waved enthusiastically at him.

…Way too fashionable.

Julian stared for several seconds and genuinely failed to recognize him.

“It’s me.” The man removed his sunglasses, revealing vivid green eyes. “Didn’t expect to run into you here.”

“Asher?” Julian blinked in surprise.

He hadn’t expected his half-Italian coworker to dress like this off the clock.

“You shopping?” Asher glanced behind him, apparently checking for company. Finding none, he asked, “You busy? Can I steal ten minutes of your time?”

“Not really,” Julian answered. “What’s up?”

“I’m having an outfit made for someone, but he can’t come in for fittings,” Asher explained. “I was hoping you could try it on for me.”

Julian hesitated. “Would I even fit?”

“Perfectly.” Asher nodded confidently. “You’re around the same build and age. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better substitute.”

Since Asher insisted—and Julian didn’t really have plans anyway—he agreed.

First, he tried on a modern Chinese-style outfit.

Judging by Asher’s expression, the results were satisfactory.

Then Asher dragged him next door into a suit boutique and asked him to try on a suit as well.

It wasn’t a finished piece yet, only a prototype sample. The tailor adjusted the fit with pins while speaking to Asher.

“It’d really be best if the actual client came in personally. Or we could do measurements at his home. Your stand-in here has a completely different frame. Even with custom tailoring, the final result won’t be ideal.”

“Special circumstances,” Asher replied casually while studying Julian. “Still, honestly? It doesn’t look bad.”

Then he suddenly looked toward the entrance.

“Samuel, what do you think?”

Samuel was here too?

Julian’s entire body stiffened.

Nervously, he looked up.

The bell above the door chimed softly.

Samuel pushed open the French glass door and stepped inside.

He wore a charcoal-gray overcoat, shoulders broad, posture perfectly straight. Sunlight filtering through the sycamore trees traced a faint golden outline around him.

He looked like the male lead from some old British film.

His presence was so effortlessly striking that Julian immediately felt small by comparison.

Instinctively, he straightened his posture.

He wanted to greet him casually—

But Samuel’s gaze passed straight over him and landed on Asher instead.

“What’s he doing here?”

His tone was distant and cold, as though Julian barely existed.

“I asked Julian to help with the fitting,” Asher replied.

Samuel frowned slightly, clearly disapproving. “No need to inconvenience other people.”

“It’s only ten minutes. Julian already agreed.” Asher shoved Julian lightly toward him. “Honestly, he’s built pretty similarly to Sonny. What do you think of this one?”

At last, Samuel’s gaze settled on him.

Julian’s entire body tensed instantly.

He almost stopped breathing.

He didn’t understand it himself.

He hadn’t felt nervous around Asher at all.

But the second Samuel looked at him, his whole body locked up.

He couldn’t even meet his eyes.

So Julian lowered his head.

Julian was five-foot-nine.

Samuel towered over him by nearly six inches.

Standing beside him, Samuel only had to lower his gaze slightly to take in Julian completely.

Julian was thin.

Not fragile exactly, but delicately built overall.

He clearly didn’t do any grooming, yet the hair around his nape and sideburns was naturally neat and clean.

As he lowered his head, the curve of his neck became visible.

And there, against pale skin, Samuel noticed a tiny reddish mole resting above the vertebra at the back of his neck.

Like a smear of red paint against a blank canvas.

Something that could bloom into deeper color with the slightest touch.

“So?” Asher nudged him impatiently. “What do you think?”

Samuel finally looked away from the mole.

“Too well-behaved.”

“I meant the suit.”

Samuel glanced at him coolly. “And what exactly did you think I meant?”

Asher studied Julian thoughtfully before nodding. “Fair point. It’s for a graduation ceremony after all. Something more formal probably fits better.”

Julian suddenly didn’t want to stay there anymore.

Once the fitting ended, he changed back into his own clothes, handed the suit over to the staff, and quietly said, “I should go.”

Asher was busy discussing tailoring details with the designer and didn’t seem to hear him.

After hesitating for two seconds, Julian turned and headed for the door.

“Wait.”

Samuel’s voice stopped him.

Julian’s footsteps faltered, though he kept walking.

“Julian.”

Samuel called his name again—accurately, clearly.

Then he walked over beside him.

“Please wait.”

Julian finally stopped.

He slowly exhaled, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Is there something else?”

“Sorry for taking up your personal time,” Samuel said evenly. “As compensation, you can choose a suit for yourself from the shop.”

This was a private tailoring boutique in the center of Manhattan.

The fabrics, cuts, and craftsmanship were exceptional. They even used luxury-grade materials identical to those used by major designer houses.

Everything here was expensive beyond imagination.

While trying on the suit earlier, Julian really had felt a brief flash of envy.

For one second, he’d thought:

What would it feel like to wear clothes like this myself?

But the moment Samuel walked in, shame immediately swallowed the thought whole.

Julian had never worn clothing this expensive before.

When he was young, he wore his cousin’s old clothes.

Later, his grandmother would bring him into town to buy winter jackets, always choosing the thinner one because it was cheaper.

Every winter, his hands cracked open with frostbite from the cold.

During senior year of high school, the school hosted a formal coming-of-age ceremony.

Most parents bought their sons suits for the occasion and proudly attended beside them.

Julian wore his school uniform.

His parents were too busy working to come.

His grandparents thought the trip to school cost too much money.

So he stood alone among the crowd, quietly welcoming his own eighteenth birthday.

He never blamed his parents.

Most poor families were like that.

They had raised him and paid for college already. He was grateful enough.

He truly thought he didn’t care anymore.

But years later, standing inside this luxury tailor shop, watching someone carefully choose clothes for a beloved boy—

Something inside him still cracked open unexpectedly.

“Thank you,” Julian said softly.

“But I don’t want it.”

Then he turned and walked out of the tailor shop.