Ever since he was little, Julian had never asked for anything.

His parents repeated the same things over and over again—how hard life was, how difficult it was to earn money—and Julian grew up far too quickly because of it.

His parents were pleased with that outcome.

After all, what parent wouldn't love a child who was obedient, undemanding, and easy to raise?

But children were born with needs.

They needed food and comfort. They wanted to explore the world. They needed love from their parents.

The so-called "well-behaved" child was often just someone who had learned to suppress every need they had.

Julian suddenly remembered the phone call he'd made to his father during one of his worst breakdowns at work.

At the time, he still wasn't working under Samuel yet. He'd been assisting a project manager in the equity financing division instead.

The workload assigned to Apex Capital's management trainees was already brutal. Julian was usually buried in official work until midnight, and on top of that, he was expected to handle personal errands for his superiors too.

Picking up packages. Buying coffee.

He'd even walked his manager's dog and picked up their kid from school before.

The first time Julian seriously thought about quitting was when his manager "loaned" him to another executive to help with more personal errands.

Back then, Julian still had another offer on the table.

The pay wasn't as high as Apex Capital's, but he hesitated enough to call his father for advice.

He regretted it almost immediately.

"Your boss clearly values you. You should work harder."

"Everyone goes through this. Just tough it out."

"Well, you chose this yourself. I told you to come back and take the civil service exam, but you wouldn't listen."

"How are you this weak? Everyone has work pressure. Back when I worked construction, I spent every day outside in the heat and rain—"

Julian hung up.

Throughout Julian's childhood, his father had always been absent.

Even when Julian tried approaching him, he only ever received the same few scripted responses, like talking to an NPC programmed with limited dialogue options.

"I don't know. Go ask your mother."

"If our family hadn't been poor back then, I would've gone to college too."

"You don't understand. Just listen to me."

"I worked myself to death raising you. Now it's finally my turn to enjoy life."

And yet despite his absence, his father remained domineering and absolute.

Like the sky hanging over their tiny household.

Even the occasional bursts of parental authority had left Julian deeply scarred.

As for his mother…

That same night, not long after Julian hung up on his father, messages from her arrived one after another.

"You should apologize to your manager. Don't upset people at work."

"Your dad's just worried about you. You even hung up on him—he's really hurt. Call him back and apologize later."

"Your younger brother's math and English grades are bad. His teacher says he needs tutoring. Send next month's money early."

A suffocating pressure closed around Julian's chest.

He knew his parents were ordinary people.

He knew their lives hadn't been easy.

But still…

Still…

Julian suddenly remembered standing inside the tailor shop earlier that afternoon.

Wearing a custom-made suit designed for someone else, he'd looked calm. Confident.

Like the kind of boy who'd always been cared for.

Bright and polished on the outside.

Only he knew how broken the real version of himself actually was.

—

Julian returned to his apartment and unlocked the heavy security door.

It was technically a two-bedroom apartment, but the living and dining areas had been divided into tiny partitions, turning it into a four-person shared rental.

Beyond the entrance was a narrow hallway with no windows and terrible lighting.

Julian's room had originally been part of the dining area.

Less than ten square meters.

And even so, the rent was still horrifyingly close to three thousand dollars a month.

Other people might've thought it was miserable.

But honestly?

This was already the most comfortable place Julian had lived in during the past twenty years.

Because this space belonged entirely to him.

After entering the room, Julian sat quietly on the bed for a while before opening the wardrobe and taking out the schoolgirl uniform.

The freshly washed skirt carried a faint clean scent.

His fingers brushed slowly over the sharp pleats, and an odd sense of calm rose inside him.

This wasn't the same outfit from the package mix-up at the office.

Afraid someone might recognize it, Julian had returned the original one and bought a different style instead.

He was five-foot-nine, but lightweight with a narrow frame. After comparing measurements, customer service had recommended a medium.

Even then, it was still too loose.

The waistband hung slack around his waist, loose enough to fit an entire hand underneath.

Julian placed his phone on the desk and turned on the front-facing camera.

Then he pressed record.

He wasn't used to being photographed.

Every time he faced a camera, his body became stiff and unnatural.

Julian knew that about himself.

So instead of trying to "perform," he simply filmed random clips and planned to piece together usable footage later.

Unexpectedly, some of it actually turned out well.

In the dimly lit room, the boy collapsed backward onto the bed.

Beneath the fluttering hem of the skirt were long, straight legs.

The angle made it look almost as though someone had pushed him down.

Suggestive.

Dangerously easy to imagine things from.

Julian also filmed a few clips in a suit.

He planned to edit together a transformation video.

He'd done social media operations work during previous internships, so he knew the basics of filming and editing.

Before long, he'd pieced together a short video barely over ten seconds long.

His face never appeared on screen.

The quality wasn't especially high either.

But the atmosphere was excellent.

There was even a faint sense of narrative to it.

Julian felt reasonably satisfied with the result, though his lagging laptop made the process take far longer than it should have.

After checking repeatedly to make sure nothing private had been exposed, Julian finally uploaded the video.

@WorkIsKillingMe:

[video]

Forget it. You guys probably won't even like this.

#femboy#crossdresser

—

The weekend ended, and another exhausting week began.

Samuel was an incredibly busy boss.

He constantly flew between countries and spent very little time physically at the office. But even while overseas, he still managed every major and minor issue within the company.

He had several executive assistants.

Julian, meanwhile, had to submit weekly progress reports to him every single week.

Reporting to Samuel Frost was not easy.

He was demanding and absurdly sharp.

Any tiny mistake would immediately be spotted, dragged out into the open, and sent back for revision.

Every report Julian submitted was checked over and over again.

He didn't dare relax for even a second.

At six o'clock one evening, Julian finally emailed over his weekly report.

At the same time, messages popped up from his gaming group chat.

Jordan was calling him online to play.

Julian had a small gaming friend group they regularly played with together, but ever since starting his internship at Apex Capital, he'd barely touched a game.

Tonight, though, it actually looked like he might get off work on time for once.

Julian agreed to log in later, packed his bag, and left the office.

Only to run straight into Samuel walking out of the elevator with one of his assistants.

Samuel wore a sharply tailored double-breasted suit beneath a dark charcoal cashmere coat.

Cold air from outside still clung to him.

He looked stern, elegant, untouchable.

Julian instinctively straightened and stepped aside to clear the path.

Samuel walked past without even glancing at him.

Then paused for exactly one second beside him.

"Come to my office."

Julian: "…"

He knew getting off work wouldn't be that easy.

Julian returned to his desk, grabbed his laptop, and headed toward Samuel's office—

Only to discover other people had gotten there first.

Samuel had apparently just returned from overseas, and an endless stream of people kept entering his office to report work.

Julian waited over an hour.

Meanwhile, his gaming group started pinging him again.

Embarrassed, Julian replied that he'd suddenly been pulled into overtime and would be late.

Another half hour passed before the office finally emptied.

Julian immediately seized the opportunity and knocked.

"Samuel? You wanted to see me?"

Samuel had already removed his suit jacket and sat behind the computer in only his shirt and vest.

The fitted waistcoat stretched tightly across his chest, emphasizing solid muscle beneath the fabric.

Not a trace of exhaustion showed on him.

Without looking up from the documents in front of him, he said, "I want this week's project update."

"I already emailed the report," Julian said carefully.

"Give it to me verbally."

Julian: "…"

Suppressing the urge to die on the spot, Julian mentally reviewed the report and began summarizing it aloud.

Samuel gave no response.

Julian couldn't read his boss's thoughts at all.

But he desperately wanted to leave already.

"…Can I go now?" he finally asked.

Samuel finally looked up.

"Try again."

Julian: "……"

Jesus Christ.

He genuinely wanted to start swearing.

What was the difference between reading a report and listening to one?

Half the time nobody even looked at those documents anyway.

And now he had to stand there repeating everything out loud too?

Julian left the office with a dark expression.

Public speaking had never been his strength, but Samuel was obviously making things difficult for him on purpose.

Taking a deep breath, Julian forced himself to calm down.

First he revised the overly formal wording in the report.

Then he rehearsed the presentation over and over in his head.

During that time, people constantly entered and exited Samuel's office.

An hour later, Julian finally found another chance—

Only for a VP to appear at the exact same moment claiming urgent business with Samuel.

Julian had no choice but to step aside and continue practicing at his desk.

By the time he finally finished preparing, the office had gone quiet.

Julian pushed open the door—

And discovered Samuel was already gone.

He walked back out and asked Asher, who was still working overtime nearby, "Where's Samuel?"

"He left," Asher answered.

Julian blinked blankly. "Left? But he told me to present the weekly report."

"The weekly report?" Asher ran a hand through his messy curls, equally confused.

While Samuel had been overseas, most company matters had been dumped onto Asher.

After several sleepless nights in a row, the elegant half-Italian man had slowly transformed into what looked like a very exhausted stray dog.

Asher muttered a curse under his breath before looking back at Julian.

"Send the report to me." He sighed. "Call it a night."

"…I can leave?"

"You can." Asher's tone softened noticeably. "Get some sleep tonight. Those dark circles under your eyes are terrifying."

Julian almost felt emotional.

After being relentlessly worked to death by Samuel for so long, he'd nearly forgotten what basic human kindness felt like.

"Don't take it personally," Asher explained. "Samuel's hard on everyone."

Not targeting him?

Then why force him to rehearse the report again and again?

Why make him prepare for hours only to disappear without saying a word?

Julian walked out of the Apex Capital building with a cold expression and immediately ordered another women's outfit while riding the subway home.

It had already been five days since he uploaded the video.

During that time, he'd been too busy with work and thesis writing to check the account.

Now, on the ride home, Julian finally opened the alt account he'd created.

He'd assumed maybe a few dozen people had watched the clip.

Instead, the second he opened his notifications, countless unread messages exploded across the screen.

Hundreds of thousands of likes.

Over ten thousand comments and saves.

Even the account itself had gained more than ten thousand followers.

[WHAT IS THIS FINE DINING MEAL??? I'm devouring this.]

[ABSOLUTE GOD-TIER CONTENT!!! Since when did the imperial harem have a beauty like this??]

[LMAOOO wearing girl clothes after work… you can tell OP has completely snapped.]

[Is this your first thirst trap? It's weirdly cute. You've got that awkward "first day in the industry" vibe.]

[He's being seductive in such a shy, subtle way and it's SO cute I'm losing my mind. More please!!!]

Julian scrolled through the comments over and over.

Strangers praising him.

Encouraging him.

Saying they liked him.

Before he realized it, his eyes had turned red.

Then he noticed one phrase appearing constantly throughout the comments.

[Checking in from the Orca fan tour group!!]

[Orca tour group +1]

[First time seeing Orca like an influencer's video. Truly elite content.]

[Who's Orca?]

Julian typed curiously beneath one of the comments.

[OMG you don't know Orca??? He's basically THE top male-content creator.]

[His body is insane, his voice and vibe are unreal. My favorite cyber Daddy.]

[The only tragedy is that he never shows his face. Years ago he posted a jawline pic though—stupidly handsome.]

[@OrcaOfficial welcome to the fandom]

A creator that famous had liked his video?

Curious now, Julian tapped into the account.

Over ten million followers.

The profile picture showed only a man's back.

The entire page radiated luxury and expensive taste, like a high-end romance scam designed specifically for emotionally vulnerable people.

Most of Orca's videos featured suits.

The captions were simple and casual:

Workwear.

Formalwear.

Overcoats.

Occasionally he posted athletic content too—fencing, rugby, other niche sports.

No matter the genre, Orca never showed his face.

He rarely relied on nudity either.

The boldest video on the account was probably a swimming clip.

Underwater, he moved like some sleek predatory creature, gliding effortlessly across half the pool in a single breath.

Julian couldn't swim himself, but according to the comments, the technique required mastering multiple advanced swimming styles.

The entire video was filmed underwater.

Pale blue water softened the lighting around Orca's body, making him look almost sculptural.

Every muscle perfectly defined.

Controlled. Powerful. Beautiful.

Julian understood immediately why Orca had so many fans.

A handsome, successful, emotionally stable older man with impeccable taste?

He was basically engineered to become the ideal fantasy partner for East Asian audiences.

But to Julian, that fantasy was more dangerous than any romance scam.

Because men like that didn't exist.

No powerful man would gently guide you through life, encourage you endlessly, and love you unconditionally.

Not while somehow also perfectly matching all your kinks and emotional needs.

And there was one more thing bothering him.

Maybe it was just his imagination.

But somehow, Orca reminded him of Samuel.

The clothing style.

The body language.

Even that subtle sense of control hidden beneath everything.

Julian had no idea why Orca liked his video.

But honestly?

He didn't care.

And he definitely had no intention of getting to know him.

He already had one father at home and another at work.

The last thing he needed was another man trying to take control of his life.

Julian returned to Orca's profile page—

And blocked the account.