Chapter Text
It was another boring corporate event with the same boring people, boring food, and boring atmosphere. Usually, he was pretty good at skipping things like this, especially as the CEO of EonCore Tech, but the board was insistent that he make an appearance to appease their investors.
Valko tsked as his golden eyes scanned the area.
He knew the kind of people who invested in his company, and while he couldn’t care less where the money was coming from- a necessary evil in today’s world- he did care about having to breathe in the same space as them.
“Mr. Ao Yin. It is wonderful to see you outside of the boardroom.” A capricious businessman gave a slight nod of his head, as if that was enough respect to show Valko Ao Yin of EonCore Tech.
Valko frowned at this open disrespect as he looked the man over. Ah, yes, now he remembers who this is. “Benedict. I’m surprised Val Sanatorium could spare you today.”
Benedict chuckles, his posture still holding that fake elegance he carries every day. “It is busy, as always. A man in your position can understand that.” He adjusts his glasses while his gaze sweeps the crowd. “You and I both know we are just ornaments at these gatherings so our investors can feel like they are touching greatness. Yet, we would rather be in the lab doing what we do best.”
Valko had to agree with him there.
“Still… it’s good for our health to get outside and enjoy the sun. At least, that’s what my doctor says.” Benedict takes a sip of his drink, and Valko takes that as his cue to exit this conversation. Before he takes more than two steps, Benedict calls out to him one last time. “Mr. Ao Yin. The tides are shifting. I thought you should know to… take care.”
With that, Benedict walks off and Valko’s temper bristles under his skin. Vague threats do not bother him; he’s used to them. Hell, he even stokes the fires for fun to see if he can shake a threat's resolve, but this was a veiled attempt at a warning. EVER is moving pieces on the board, and Valko has to be careful.
EVER has been trying to partner with EonTech for at least a decade. Valko has been diligent in preventing this from happening because EVER will force a takeover through a merger, as they have done with every single company they approach under the guise of “partnership”.
A partnership that will progress humanity.
Valko downs his drink in one gulp. “Progress my ass,” he mumbles to himself.
He’s decided that he has hit his quota on time spent at this event and starts to weave his way through the crowd when his ear picks up a familiar tune. Now, normally, he doesn’t pay attention to the mindless music that is played in the background of these things. Musicians were there to create a relaxing ambiance for the guests and were not supposed to stand out.
Yet, the familiar melody of “Piano Man” by singer-songwriter Billy Joel was being plucked from the piano keys. A smirk found its way onto Valko’s face as his eyes zeroed in on the piano and its respective player off to the side.
You looked radiant in a pastel blue dress with a long skirt and loose sleeves that flowed down your arms. Your hair was pinned up and out of your face, and Valko found himself walking towards you.
He noticed how bored you looked at having to be there and how mindless your fingers moved across the ivory keys. You must have been subconsciously clinking away at a pop tune in your head to stave off the monotonous and repetitive music you had already been playing for the past hour at this event.
As he stepped onto the platform, your posture stiffened as his presence entered your space. He watched as your fingers deftly wove a song typical of the tedious setting.
“No reason to change the song on my account. In fact, I would rather listen to more Billy Joel, if you’ll humor me.” Valko cranked the charm up to max as he finally felt a spark of life.
A small smile made its way onto your face as you changed it up to another Billy Joel song, and Valko allowed himself to actually smile. He stepped closer as he listened a little bit longer until the chorus of the song wrapped around them. “When will you realize Vienna waits for you?”
Your voice is bright as you finally talk to him. “Ah, a man of taste I see. Though, I wouldn’t have pegged someone like you to be a Billy Joel fan.”
“So you’re an expert at pegging?” Valko quipped back, a smirk hidden behind his drink as he took a sip.
He sees the way your mind short-circuits for a second before a laugh bubbles out of you. He can’t help but laugh with you, and it's as if the very venue melts away from both of you.
You compose yourself as you turn to look at him properly, “I have to say, you turned this gig around for me. I was ready to fall asleep twenty minutes ago.”
“I can imagine. Do you play for these things often?” Valko can’t help but trace your collarbone and voluptuous chest with his eyes. The height difference is just absurd, with you sitting on the piano bench and him casually standing by the piano, looking down at the beauty who thwarted his escape attempt with your music.
Your neck is stretched as you look up at him, not realizing he has an unobstructed view of your chest behind your dress. “Unfortunately, yes, but I play professionally at a lot of venues. I may or may not DJ on the side.”
Realizing he hasn’t introduced himself, Valko holds his hand out to you, palm up. “I’m Valko Ao Yin.”
Gently placing your hand in his, he helps you stand as you introduce yourself. He brings your knuckles to his mouth, and he places a polite kiss, but uses the moment to subtly get your scent. He’s surprised by how complex it is. There is a blend of honey and vanilla with lavender and a warm, spicy undertone that reminds him of the forest.
When he releases your hand, there is a light blush on your face and neck.
“Mr. Ao Yin! A moment of your time, please?” A guest has shattered this private moment, and the cold, professional mask slides back into place as Valko bristles at the interruption.
“Until next time.” Valko steps away, annoyed that he’s going to be pulled into another dull conversation.
He quickly glances behind him to see you are packing your things away and sighs that he didn’t get the chance to ask for your number. It’s probably for the better.
*****
Kicking off your heels the moment you walk through the door, you let out a long groan, savoring the instant relief of being free from those restrictive shoes.
“Look who finally made it!” Murph, your best friend, calls out as she wanders from her room, looking cozy in pajamas and a fluffy bathrobe. “There are some leftover tacos in the kitchen with your name on them.”
“Murph, you are literally a lifesaver,” you reply, heading straight for your bedroom. You quickly peel off your dress and slide into pajamas before retreating to the living room for a late dinner. The tacos are perfect, and you settle in to eat while watching whatever drama Murph has pulled up on the TV.
After a while, Murph shifts over to sit beside you. “So, give me the rundown—how was your day?”
Swallowing a mouthful of taco, you answer, “Busy. That big corporate gig took up most of the afternoon, and then I went straight to my usual symphony rehearsal. With the concert only two weeks away, they’ve added an extra hour to our sessions for now.”
Murph nods. “Your corporate gig was with EonTech, right?”
“Yeah, they had booked out this venue on top of a swanky building downtown. It had a terrace and a rooftop garden and was so pretty, but the guests were dull.”
You remember amber eyes, light reddish, purple hair, and a killer smile.
“Well, there was one guy who was pretty nice.” You decide to correct your previous statement, and that has your best friend perk up.
“A guy, huh?”
You groan. “Not like that…”
Murph just chuckles. “Tell me about him. I mean, you remember him, so something about him stood out.”
You smile a little as you describe him. “He clearly belonged there. He had this stupid, expensive-looking suit on that I wanted to touch to see how silky it was. I was surprised by his hair. It had some red in it and was short, but it wasn’t that generic slick-back look that a lot of the guys had there. And oh my god, Murph, his eyes were this gorgeous shade of gold.”
You could have sworn when he smiled, he had a few sharp canines hidden behind those lips.
Murph is giggling, “Wow… someone has a crush!”
You can’t help but blush. “There’s nothing wrong with looking.”
“No, there isn’t.” Murph is wiggling her eyebrows, and the two of you start giggling some more. “You said he was pretty nice, so I take it you got to talk to him.”
“A little. It was embarrassing at first.” You remember feeling mortified that someone actually recognized the song you were playing. “You know how I have to play a lot of mundane, keep to the background, kind of stuff at these things. Well, sometimes I have to change it up, or I’m going to fall asleep on the keys. Most of the time, these rich people don’t even notice it because they don’t care, and I do it subtly enough that it’s a silly little game I play with myself.”
Murph has a huge grin on her face now. “And he happened to catch you in the act!”
You bury your face in the pillow you're holding. “Ugh, yes!! He recognized Billy Joel and came over. He must have been just as bored as I was with the place.”
The two of you are cackling at the story, and Murph grabs her laptop. “I can’t believe you found a guy who recognizes Billy Joel at a swanky corporate gathering.”
“I know, right?”
Murph pulls open a search engine and types in Valko’s name. Instantly, pictures of the notorious CEO of EonCore Tech pop up on her browser.
“Girl… please tell me you got his number.”
You face palm, “No. We were interrupted.”
Murph turns her laptop around so you can see the pictures, and your jaw drops. Valko’s face is everywhere, with no sign of the lightness you got to see with his laugh in the short time you two met. The professional photos came first—the meticulously curated armor of a man who ruled a tech empire. In the primary headshot, Valko was the picture of corporate perfection, though his physical presence seemed to extend beyond the frame.
He wore a bespoke pine-and-black three-piece suit, tailored so flawlessly that it looked as if it had been molded to him. The fabric stretched tight across an impossibly broad set of shoulders, the sharp lines of his collar framing a jawline that looked etched from granite. A dark, silk tie was knotted with military precision, keeping every ounce of his massive frame firmly under wraps.
In a series of boardroom candids, he was captured mid-motion. One photo showed him leaning against a massive glass conference table, his knuckles pressed down against the surface as he commanded the room. His posture wasn't just authoritative; it was dominant. He didn't smile in a single one. Instead, he possessed a piercing, unblinking stare directed straight into the lens.
You're gripping the pillow in your lap tighter as if the man is looking right at you. You are really regretting not getting his number now.
Scrolling down, Murph found a digital scan of a recent major magazine spread. The cover featured his silhouette against a minimalist backdrop, with bold typography overlaying his chest that read: We Take a Hike with Valko. The editorial piece inside captured him standing in front of a camper, playfully biting his shirt as he pulls it up, giving you a sneak peek of his Adonis belt.
You and Murph squeal in delight!
"Oh my god, his suits are hiding so much… man under there!" Murph is stunned, and if she could have heart eyes, you know this was it.
Your own thoughts were not helping at the moment. "How can someone look so good while biting their shirt?!"
There was a candid shot from a mountain trail, deep in a dense forest of trees. Valko was adjusting the straps of a heavy, tactical-grade olive camping pack. He wore rugged utility pants and a thermal henley with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The background was stark, misty, and wild, yet he fit into the landscape perfectly. He looked entirely at home among the shadows of the trees, a faint, dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he looked over his shoulder.
You pause on that image, zooming in on his amber eyes. Even compressed by the laptop screen, the feral, untamed energy behind his gaze was unmistakable. The world saw a brilliant tech savior in a thousand-dollar suit, but looking at him out there in the elements, it was clear that the boardroom was just a cage he chose to visit during the day.
One thing you knew for sure: sleep was going to be an issue tonight…
*****
The amber liquid in Valko’s glass swirled as he set it down on the sleek obsidian surface of his desk. The ambient lights of his private study were dimmed, leaving only the brilliant, cold glare of his terminal to illuminate the sharp angles of his face.
His fingers tapped a rhythmic, impatient beat against the keyboard. On the screen, a search algorithm was pulling up a history that didn’t make sense.
He scrolled through the first set of archived local news feeds. A headline from two years ago flashed in stark, pixelated text:
TRAGEDY IN BLOOMSHORE: HOUSE EXPLOSION LEAVES TWO DEAD The blast, which completely gutted the home at the end of a residential block, has been ruled an isolated incident. Authorities confirm two occupants perished in the blaze. There was only one survivor.
Valko’s eyes narrowed as your name stared back at him from the casualty report. The lone survivor. He could see the wreckage in the accompanying photo, a blackened husk of a house and shattered glass, a place where nothing human should have made it out alive.
He clicked to the next tab, bypassing standard media to look at public press releases from a very different organization.
There were multiple articles detailing high-profile galas hosted by the Hunter Association. Your face appeared in a promotional banner, sharp and unyielding. The text labeled you a Top Hunter and commended you for "exceptional tactical execution and high-threat containment."
It didn’t add up. Just hours ago, he had been standing on the terrace of a swanky high-end venue, watching those exact same hands glide effortlessly across the keys of a grand piano. Your eyes and smile were entirely devoid of violence. There was no tactical gear. No Association uniform. Just a beautiful figure lost in the music, looking fragile enough to break.
How did a lethal, decorated Unicorns Hunter end up playing a music gig at an EonTech corporate event?
Valko closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Even now, the sterile air of his office couldn't entirely wash away the phantom trace of your scent from earlier in the day. It was distinct—a blend of honey and vanilla with lavender and a warm, spicy undertone of… pine.
The scent pulled at something primal in his chest, dragging up a memory he had buried a few years ago.
He remembered the suffocating terror of a wanderer attack out in the lawless expanse of the no-hunt zone. A rogue beast had cornered his aunt and cousins in an abandoned transit station. One of them had called him, frantic and scared. Valko had been too far away, sprinting through the brush, bracing himself for the slaughter he was afraid he’d find. Those cousins were still considered pups in their pack, and it was the one night that his auntie agreed to take them out on her own to teach them the basics of foraging.
By the time he arrived, the wanderer was already collapsing into crystal shards, its dark blood flowing against the concrete.
Standing over it was a hunter. The silhouette had been obscured by rain and shadow, but as the savior vanished back into the mist without a word, the wind had carried that exact same scent.
Valko opened his eyes, the dark amber of his irises flashing in the screen's reflection. The coincidence was too jarring to ignore. If you were the one from the no-hunt zone, and if you had survived the Bloomshore blast, there was a massive piece of the puzzle missing.
He reached for his encrypted satellite phone and dialed a number that didn’t exist on any public registry. The line rang twice before a low, gravelly voice answered.
"Sir?"
"I'm sending you a file," Valko commanded, his voice a low, commanding rumble that brooked no argument. "I want everything the Hunter Association has scrubbed on this individual. The Bloomshore explosion, their active status, and why they’re currently spending their evenings playing piano instead of holding a gun."
"I'll get on it immediately."
"And Marcus," Valko added, his gaze locking onto your photo on the screen. "Look into the no-hunt zone incursions from five years ago. Don't leave a single stone unturned."
He ended the call, setting the phone down. He zoomed in on your eyes in the Association portrait. The boardroom might have been his cage, but he had a feeling he had just stumbled onto someone who knew exactly what it was like to live wild.