When Kaija was finally summoned into the room, several men and women in black suits were just filing out through the doors.
Every single one of them looked tense.
Not the normal kind of tired one got after a long meeting, either. Their expressions carried the strained stiffness of people who had just survived some sort of psychological warfare session and escaped with their dignity barely intact. One man loosened his tie the second he crossed the threshold. Another exhaled deeply, rubbing at his temple as though nursing a migraine.
Kaija watched them pass by and thought, 'Wow. Working here looks absolutely miserable.'
Then her gaze drifted past the opening doors toward the man still seated inside.
Charles Kosonen.
Three days ago, he had merely been some rich stranger she had happened to serve on a flight. Then a man who invited her to dinner. Then a bizarre billionaire with a suspicious obsession with her singing voice.
Now?
Now he practically held her entire financial future in his hands.
No, not future. Organs, Kaija corrected silently. 'The man currently deciding whether my kidneys survive the year.'
Charles sat at the long conference table with the same rigid composure she remembered from the plane. Cold-faced. Perfectly put together. Untouchable.
Today, he wore another black suit, tailored so sharply it looked expensive enough to pay off half her debt by itself. The only break in the darkness was the glossy brown tie at his throat, its rich sheen catching the muted light overhead.
His brow was faintly furrowed, silver eyes lowered toward a stack of documents in front of him.
Then his gaze lifted.
The moment he saw her standing there, something in his expression loosened ever so slightly.
"Ms. Sepala," Charles greeted smoothly, gesturing for her to come closer.
Then, just like during dinner, he rose from his chair.
And just like last time, he personally pulled out the seat beside him.
"Make yourself comfortable."
Kaija hesitated for a fraction of a second.
There was something deeply disorienting about a man who looked emotionally incapable of smiling still insisting on behaving like some old-fashioned gentleman from a romance film.
Reluctantly, she walked over and sat down.
"What do you think of our facilities?" Charles asked as he lowered himself back into his own seat.
Kaija blinked once.
Was it her imagination, or had his entire posture relaxed the moment she sat beside him?
"Everything is top quality, Mr. Kosonen," she replied honestly. "But on the way here, I must admit all I could think about was what exactly you wanted to discuss with me today."
The corner of Charles's mouth curved faintly upward.
"Straightforward as ever, Ms. Sepala."
He pressed a button beneath the table.
A few seconds later, the doors opened again.
A woman in her thirties entered silently, carrying two thick stacks of documents in her arms. Her umber hair was twisted into a severe knot at the nape of her neck, and her expression somehow looked even stricter than Charles's.
She placed the documents neatly onto the table, bowed deeply toward Charles, then exited without wasting so much as a breath.
"That was my assistant, Camille," Charles explained, sliding one of the stacks toward Kaija.
Her soul nearly left her body at the sight of the paperwork.
'More documents?'
After the week she had just endured, another thick stack of paper felt less like employment paperwork and more like a personal attack.
Charles continued calmly, seemingly unaware that she was already dying inside.
"Here is my full offer. I will settle the S$200,000 upfront as a down payment, and as a way to ensure your focus remains entirely on your new role here under KE."
Kaija's sleepy eyes sharpened immediately at the number.
Charles continued, voice steady and measured.
"Before making your official appearance to the public, you will be required to undergo training. The program is designed to prepare you for the industry and equip you with the necessary skills to function as one of our artists."
His silver gaze settled on her evenly.
"But those are secondary concerns. The most important quality in any artist under KE is natural vocal talent." His tone lowered slightly. "Which you already possess."
Kaija went still.
"Because of that," Charles continued, "I am confident your debut will not take long. I will also personally ensure the process is as painless as possible for you."
Kaija stared down at the document in silence.
Then, with the exhaustion of a woman who had read far too many contracts lately, she began flipping through the pages.
For the next half hour, the room fell mostly quiet.
Kaija read.
Charles relaxed.
And by relaxed, she meant he somehow transformed into a completely different species the moment she became occupied. The rigid CEO posture melted away little by little as he poured himself tea and leaned back in his chair, sipping from the cup with calm satisfaction, as though he were lounging on some beachside vacation instead of conducting a high-stakes talent acquisition meeting.
Meanwhile, Kaija trudged through the contract like a soldier crawling through a battlefield.
There were dormitories for trainees.
Meals and living expenses would be fully covered.
Medical expenses.
Scheduling regulations.
Training clauses.
Media conduct.
Then—
Her eyes widened.
"Ten thousand freaking S dollars?" she blurted.
Charles looked up calmly from his tea.
Kaija stared at the number again as though it might rearrange itself into something sane.
"Erm… Mr. Kosonen," she said slowly, "are you sure your assistant didn't accidentally type an extra zero here? That's like… double my airline salary."
"There is no mistake," Charles replied flatly. "At KE, we compensate our artists appropriately."
Kaija's fingers trembled slightly as she turned another page.
'Holy shit.'
So this was what it meant to work at KE.
Maybe she really had been insane for rejecting him the first time.
Maybe sleep deprivation had permanently damaged her brain.
Maybe she should have accepted immediately instead of spending an entire week spiraling through unemployment, debt, legal threats, emotional betrayal, and the possible future sale of her internal organs.
Slowly, cautiously, Kaija lifted her gaze toward Charles.
He caught her looking.
And smirked.
Not broadly.
Just enough to make it painfully obvious he knew exactly what was going through her head.
"You're done reading?" Charles asked, setting his teacup down carefully.
"Yes," Kaija swallowed, placing the contract neatly back onto the table. "I'll follow your arrangements, Mr. Kosonen. Should I sign it now?"
Charles did not answer immediately.
Instead, he simply stared at her.
His silver eyes remained fixed on her face with strange intensity, as though weighing something invisible.
Then he looked away.
When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded thinner somehow. Less controlled.
"Before you do," he said quietly, "I have one more request."
Kaija blinked. "A request?"
His eyes returned to hers.
"Would you sing a song," Charles asked carefully, "just for me?"
Kaija stared at him.
"…Sing?"
"For you?" she repeated dumbly. "Like… right now?"
A faint flush crept up beneath Charles's pale skin.
"If you don't mind," he replied. "Or… we could move somewhere more comfortable, if you prefer."
Kaija blinked again.
Was he actually blushing?
The terrifying billionaire CEO who made entire conference rooms come out looking emotionally shattered was blushing because he asked someone to sing?
"What song would you like?" Kaija asked slowly. "Any particular genre? Any popular song?"
"Anything you choose is fine." His gaze lingered on her. "Though I am curious whether you write your own songs, Ms. Sepala."
Kaija stiffened slightly.
She did write songs.
A lot of them, actually.
But she almost never shared them.
Most of them had been scribbled into notebooks late at night during lonely years when music felt safer than people did. Songs about longing. About exhaustion. About love she never confessed. About dreams too embarrassing to say aloud.
And now this man wanted to hear one?
Her fingers scratched lightly against the denim of her jeans.
"Er… okay," she muttered nervously. "If you don't like it, just tell me. I can switch to something else."
Charles inclined his head slightly and leaned back in his chair, looking almost leisurely now, though the focus in his eyes remained frighteningly sharp.
Kaija, meanwhile, felt anything but relaxed.
The moment she opened her mouth, her eyes slipped shut instinctively.
The shape of your smile haunts me in my sleep,
The touch of your hands lingers on my skin,
The sound of your voice tells me I'm in love,
I close my eyes and wish you were mine.
Her voice filled the conference room softly.
Low.
Haunting.
Tender in a way that made the lyrics ache.
It was a wistful song about a girl quietly falling in love.
Kaija had written it years ago for Niklas.
Not the cheating bastard she had dumped.
But the earlier version of him.
The boy she once thought was kind.
The one who used to wait for her after classes and smile at her like she mattered more than the world.
The melody flowed naturally from somewhere deep inside her chest, smooth and aching and strangely intimate in the silence of the room.
Yet emotionally, she felt almost detached from it now.
Like she was singing about a ghost.
When the final lyric faded away, silence swallowed the room whole.
No reaction came from Charles.
None.
Curiosity prickled at Kaija's nerves immediately.
Slowly, she opened her eyes—
—and nearly stopped breathing.
Charles was right there.
Close.
Far too close.
Those silver eyes had lost their coldness entirely.
Now they looked calm.
Soft.
Almost frighteningly gentle.
Kaija's lips parted automatically. "Mr. Koso—"
"Charles," he corrected softly. "Just Charles."
His voice had lowered almost to a whisper.
"And allow me to call you Kaija in return."
Her breath caught faintly at the sound of her name in his voice.
Then she felt it.
His fingers.
They had moved from his lap sometime during the song without her even noticing.
Now they traced lightly along the line of her chin.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
His touch drifted down the side of her neck, unhurried, almost absent-minded in its gentleness, as though he were savoring the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips.
"Who did you write that song for?" Charles asked quietly, brushing along her collarbone. "Your boyfriend?"
"Ex-boyfriend," Kaija corrected softly. "I broke up with him last week."
Charles's fingers stilled.
"What happened?"
"He's with my best friend."
Kaija looked away.
There was no point elaborating further.
Charles remained silent for a moment.
"How unfortunate," he murmured.
There was absolutely no sympathy in his tone whatsoever.
Just calm observation.
The silence afterward stretched long enough to make Kaija nervous.
"Did you…" she hesitated slightly, "like the song?"
Charles didn't answer immediately.
Instead, something flickered strangely in his expression.
His lips quivered faintly.
The silver in his eyes darkened.
Then at last he said quietly,
"I hated it."
Kaija froze.
'Uh-oh.'
Her stomach dropped instantly.
'Well, there goes the deal.'
"I can sing another one for you," she offered quickly.
"No need."
Charles pulled away from her entirely.
Just like that, all warmth vanished from his expression again, replaced by his usual unreadable composure.
He slid the contracts toward her.
Then placed a pen neatly atop them.
"Just sign the contract," Charles said flatly.
Kaija stared at him in disbelief.
Wasn't he supposed to reject her?
Before she could process the situation properly, Charles pressed the button beneath the table again.
A few moments later, Camille returned.
"Camille will show you around," Charles said evenly. "You may go now."
Camille stepped closer immediately.
"Please sign both copies of the contract," she instructed. "We will retain one copy, and the other will belong to you, Ms. Sepala."
Kaija did not waste another second.
She snatched up the pen and signed both contracts at lightning speed before the strange billionaire sitting beside her could suddenly reconsider his sanity.
"I won't take any more of your time, then," Kaija said as she rose from her chair. "I believe there's someone rather eager to see you waiting outside."
Charles's expression darkened faintly with annoyance.
"So you've met one of my superstars," he muttered. "Do not take whatever he says to heart."
"Well… I don't," Kaija replied with a shrug. "See you, then… Charles."
The moment his name left her lips, Camille visibly stiffened.
Only briefly.
But enough for Kaija to notice.
The assistant quickly composed herself again and stepped aside toward the door.
"This way, Ms. Sepala."
Kaija raised one brow slightly.
'This place is seriously full of weird people.'
Clutching her copy of the contract, she followed Camille out of the conference room while the doors closed softly behind them.