FALLEN ANGELS ✓

1.

GREED COULD FEEL eyes on him as he walked through the building. He didn't mind the attention; he enjoyed it, even. Although, he didn't understand mortal slang very well. Several times, he had heard his employees call him eye candy when they thought he wasn't listening. Greed didn't know what that meant.

He stepped out of the elevator, fixing his tie as he headed towards the conference room. His shoes tapped loudly against the marble floors, and people cleared out of the way, bowing to him as he passed. Greed didn't give them so much as an acknowledging nod.

As he walked, someone joined him. Greed didn't look at them either---he knew it was his assistant.

"Mr. Jeon," she said, "the press are waiting. I tried to stop them, but---"

"It's alright, Wheein," Greed said. "You tried. The public is restless."

The blonde tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded, glancing down at the clipboard. "How are you doing, sir?"

"You don't need to know that." Greed's tone was sharp, and he noticed the way Wheein had swallowed nervously before shutting up. He tried to remind himself to use his manners. "Sorry. I'd like to thank you again for filling in for me while I take a leave."

"It's no problem, Mr. Jeon." She gave him a kind smile when they reached the door. "Take as much time as you need."

Wheein pushed the door open and Greed followed her in. Lights flashed in his face, but he was used to it by now. Stepping up to the podium, he tapped the microphone lightly and leaned forward, clearing his throat.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming today," he said. "What we're discussing has recently been leaked into the news, so I'd like to answer any questions you may have. If anyone is unaware, I will be taking a leave from the company for my mental health, due to. . . recent events."

A reporter raised her hand. "How long will you be gone for?"

"As long as I'll need. My trusty right hand woman, Jung Wheein. . ." Greed motioned to her, and she bowed politely to the press. ". . .will be taking care of the company in my absence."

Another reporter, without raising their hand, called out, "How are your parents' deaths affecting you?"

Greed clenched his jaw. He hadn't seen who'd asked the question, but once he got his hands on them. . .

"I believe that isn't information you need to know," Greed said smoothly. "But considering that I'm taking this temporary leave, should it not be self explanatory?"

The room was silent for a good few seconds, before Greed put on a fake, guarded smile, and asked, "Any more questions?"

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Up in his office, Greed slipped his tie off and sighed, staring out the window.

"Something bothering you, Mr. Jeon?" Wheein asked from where she was organizing files on his desk.

"No," Greed said shortly. He clenched his fist at his side. He could feel the other presence in his office---but he didn't want to face it, not right now.

"If it's about that reporter," Wheein said cautiously, unsure whether she could approach the topic or not, "I can get their name and ban them from returning to the building."

A small smile tugged at Greed's lips. Someone else's misery for his benefit. That was always pleasant. "That would be ideal. In fact, why don't you go do that now? I have a phone call to make."

Wheein nodded. She stood up, gathered her things, bowed, and left. The door shut. Greed waited a few seconds before saying, "Pride, I know you're there. Come out."