Episode 4: The Spiral of Ryú

Her receptionist slid a validated parking ticket toward him sympathetically.

“She’s usually really sweet,” the woman continued carefully. “This really isn’t like her…” Clearly fishing for information.

Ryú said nothing.

He simply took the ticket and walked out.

She dismissed him.

The thought echoed through his mind with growing irritation as he crossed the parking garage toward the sleek black sedan waiting for him.

No one dismissed him.

Not employees.

Not business rivals.

Not investors.

Certainly not women.

And yet Nari St. Claire, N.P. had looked him directly in the eye and professionally removed him from her life as if he no longer mattered.

And he hated how much it bothered him.

“Just who the hell does she think she is?” he muttered under his breath as he slid into the backseat.

Someone who is hurting, you damn fool.

His own conscience answered immediately.

And you thought you could just walk in there and she would swoon at your feet?

Ryú frowned darkly while loosening his tie slightly.

You’re too used to getting your own way.

He stared silently out the tinted window as the city moved around him in blurred motion.

Normally, the drive between meetings was where he regrouped mentally.

Prepared.

Strategized.

Refocused.

Today, all he could see was warm brown eyes turning cold, the quiet professionalism in her voice, and the way she kept calling him Mr. Alexander.

By the time the car pulled up outside the downtown conference building, Ryú was no more focused than he had been thirty minutes earlier.

Which became painfully obvious halfway through the meeting.

The executives from Grundal Mines had spent nearly two hours presenting expansion plans, growth projections, and investment opportunities while Ryú sat silently at the head of the table pretending to listen.

In reality?

His mind kept replaying:

“The nurses will validate your parking.” Again.

And again.

And again.

“So what are your thoughts, Mr. Alexander?”

Ryú blinked.

Every eye at the table was suddenly on him.

The speaker had apparently just asked him a direct question.

Wonderful.

Smoothly covering the lapse, Ryú turned slightly toward Arjun.

“What do you think?” he asked calmly.

Arjun’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly.

Confusion.

Concern.

Suspicion.

But he answered anyway, giving a carefully diplomatic response regarding long-term viability and projected market recovery.

Ryú barely processed half of it.

The CEO of Grundal Mines, having heard a favorable summary of their proposal from Arjun, leaned forward in anticipation.

“So, the $5 million expansion does seem viable, and you agree it would be acceptable?”

“Alright, that seems reasonable,” he said finally. “Send the finalized proposal over and I’ll have our people review

it.”

Across the table, several executives visibly relaxed.

Arjun, however, went very still.

The meeting wrapped shortly afterward.

The moment the conference room doors closed behind the last executive, Arjun turned slowly toward him.

“Are you sure you want to take on this company?”

Ryú loosened his cuffs distractedly.

“What?”

“Grundal Mines,” Arjun clarified carefully. “The company you practically guaranteed five million dollars to twenty minutes ago.”

Ryú stopped moving.

“…I did what?”

Arjun stared at him.

“Were you not listening during the last two hours?”

Ryú’s silence answered for him.

Arjun blinked slowly.

“Ryú… did you even read the proposal they sent over?”

Ryú pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache began building behind his eyes.

“Apparently not.”

“That company has shown a downward financial trend for the last eighteen months,” Arjun said carefully. “The expansion proposal is desperation, not growth.”

Ryú looked genuinely stunned now.

“Downward trend?”

Arjun folded his arms.

“Yes. Downward trend.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, Arjun’s expression shifted from confusion to concern.

“Ryú,” he said quietly, “where exactly is your head right now?”

Ryú leaned back heavily into the conference chair and closed his eyes briefly.

Unfortunately…

he already knew the answer to that question.

And her name was Nari St. Claire.

“Damn.”

It was all Ryú said.

Then, surprisingly, he gave Arjun a tired, self-deprecating grin.

“Well,” he muttered dryly, “guess I’ll have to eat this one.”

Arjun stared at him for a long moment before slowly loosening his tie.

“Man,” he sighed, shaking his head, “between you and Kai, I honestly don’t know which one of you is worse.”

Ryú snorted faintly despite himself.

“At least those sad animal rescue commercials can be fixed with donations,” Arjun continued. “Bad business deals? Not so much.”

Ryú leaned back further into the chair, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“No,” Arjun said, pointing at him now. “I’m serious. This?” He gestured toward the abandoned proposal sitting on the conference table. “This is going to send the Board of Directors into questioning mode again…” His expression darkened slightly.

“And the accounting department into a complete tailspin.”

Ryú groaned softly.

“Please don’t remind me.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely reminding you,” Arjun informed him. “Because apparently someone in this partnership has temporarily lost the ability to function around one angry nurse practitioner.”

Ryú slowly lowered his hand from his face.

“…Kai told you?”

Arjun gave him an unimpressed look.

“Ryú.” He pointed toward the untouched coffee sitting beside him. “You haven’t touched caffeine in three hours.” Ryú blinked.

That… actually, was concerning.

“You approved a disastrous investment proposal without reading it,” Arjun continued calmly. “You’ve stared at your phone six times in the last fifteen minutes. And twice during that meeting you looked like you forgot where you were.” A pause.

“Also,” Arjun added dryly, “you sighed.”

Ryú frowned slightly.

“I do not sigh.”

“You absolutely sighed.”

“I exhale.”

“That was emotional exhaling.”

 Ryú gave him a look.

Arjun ignored it completely.

“So,” he said casually while gathering papers into a folder, “how bad is it?”

Ryú stayed silent.

Which, unfortunately, was answer enough.

Arjun stopped moving.

“…Oh no.”

Ryú pinched the bridge of his nose again.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, I completely disagree,” Arjun informed him immediately. “This is the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all year.”

“She hates me.”

Arjun considered that.

“Does she hate you,” he asked carefully, “or is she hurt?”

Ryú opened his mouth automatically.

Then stopped.

Because honestly?

He wasn’t sure anymore.

And somehow…

that bothered him even more.

A couple of days later, Ryú was no better.

If anything…

he was worse.

Which was how he somehow ended up sitting at the family dinner table absentmindedly drowning one of his mother’s carefully handmade soup dumplings in soy sauce while simultaneously pouring fish sauce over his rice.

Across the table, Ling Lou noticed immediately.

Unfortunately.

“Ryú Wei,” his mother’s sharp voice suddenly cut through the conversation, “what are you doing?”

Ryú blinked and looked down.

Silence fell around the table.

He had completely ruined both the dumplings and the rice.

Beside him, Ling Lou made a strangled choking sound trying not to laugh.

Across from her, Zhiang immediately looked down at his plate in the universal husband gesture of:

I am not participating in this.

Too late.

Ling Lou lost the battle completely.

“Oh my GOD,” she gasped between laughs. “It finally happened.”

Ryú narrowed his eyes.

“What finally happened?”

His sister pointed dramatically at him with her chopsticks.

“Someone has captured the infamous Ryú Alexander’s attention.”

“Ling Lou—”

“I honestly thought you’d emotionally constipate your way into the grave before this happened.”

“Language,” their mother warned automatically.

“Sorry, Mama.”

She absolutely did not sound sorry.

Zhiang nudged his wife lightly in warning as Ryú shot her a withering glare from across the table.

Unfortunately for him…

it only made her laugh harder.

“You’re distracted,” Ling Lou continued smugly. “Like severely distracted.”

“I’m working through a situation.”

“A woman situation.”

Ryú took a slow sip of tea instead of answering.

Which was apparently answer enough.

Ling Lou slapped the table once in victory.

“I KNEW IT!”

Their mother looked between them with growing interest now.

“A woman?” she repeated carefully.

Ryú immediately regretted attending dinner.

“Wonderful,” he muttered darkly. “Now everyone’s involved.”

“Oh no,” Ling Lou corrected cheerfully. “We were involved the second you started seasoning dumplings like a psychopath.”

Even Zhiang failed to hide his smile this time.

Ryú closed his eyes briefly.

This was officially becoming a nightmare.

By Saturday afternoon, Arjun had finally had enough.

Which was how Ryú found himself cornered in his own kitchen while his business partner helped himself to beer like an emotionally invasive raccoon.

“What gives, Ry?” Arjun asked after pulling a bottle from the refrigerator and dropping into the chair nearest the couch.

Ryú barely looked up from where he sat staring out the massive living room windows.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

“The St. Claire girl.”

“Her name is Nari,” Ryú snapped immediately. “She’s not an object.” The sharpness of his response surprised even him.

Arjun, however, looked delighted.

“That,” he pointed dramatically at Ryú with the beer bottle, “RIGHT there. That is exactly what I’m talking about.”

Ryú frowned.

“You have spent YEARS categorizing people,” Arjun continued. “Useful. Dangerous. Profitable. Disposable. Temporary. Convenient.”

Ryú’s expression darkened slightly.

“That’s not—”

“But her?” Arjun cut him off. “You immediately corrected me.”

Silence.

Arjun leaned back in the chair, studying him carefully now.

“She’s more than that to you already.”

Ryú looked away first.

Which, honestly, answered the question better than words would have.

“What gives?” Arjun asked again, quieter this time. “You met her once. Talked to her for what? A few hours?”

Ryú stared silently out toward the skyline. But that one time…

it had felt like a drink of water to a thirsty man.

The realization unsettled him enough that he almost said it out loud.

Almost.

“I don’t really know,” he admitted finally.

Arjun stayed silent, wisely sensing that interrupting would ruin whatever rare emotional honesty was currently happening.

Ryú exhaled slowly.

“She’s just…” His brow furrowed slightly, searching for words. “Different.”

“How?”

Ryú’s gaze drifted unfocused again as memories replayed effortlessly through his mind. “If you could’ve seen her eyes when she talked…” he said quietly. “The way they lit up.” He shook his head faintly.

“It wasn’t fake. None of it was fake.”

Arjun’s expression softened slightly.

“She laughed at Kai one minute and then checked if he’d eaten the next.” Ryú gave a quiet huff of disbelief. “Half the time I don’t even think she realized she was doing it.”

And somehow…

that warmth had wrapped around him too.

Ryú stopped suddenly.

Then laughed softly at himself when he noticed the look on Arjun’s face.

A mixture of shock.

Confusion.

And absolute disbelief.

“Who ARE you?” Arjun demanded finally. “And what exactly did you do with Ryú Wei Lóng Alexander?”

Despite everything, Ryú actually smiled.

Small.

Real.

Brief.

Unfortunately for him…

that only horrified Arjun more.

“By Allah,” Arjun muttered, leaning back in the chair with his beer, “I need to meet this woman who somehow managed to twist TWO grown men into emotional support houseplants.”

Ryú raised one dark eyebrow slowly.

“That dramatic?”

Arjun stared at him.

“You have no idea.”

Ryú snorted quietly.

Arjun pointed accusingly at him with the beer bottle.

“Look at you, man. Distracted. Brooding. Staring into the middle distance like some tortured K-drama CEO.”

Ryú looked offended.

“I do not brood.”

“You absolutely brood.”

“I think.” Ryú countered.

“With suffering.” Arjun immediately replied

“With purpose.”

“Like a teenager.”

Ryú opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

Because unfortunately…

Arjun wasn’t entirely wrong.

“And then there’s Kai,” Arjun continued with the exhausted expression of a man who had truly seen too much. “I finally had to send him home Thursday.”

That got Ryú’s attention immediately.

“What happened?”

Arjun dragged a hand down his face dramatically.

“I told him not to come back until he could survive a marketing meeting without emotionally spiraling all over corporate strategy.”

Ryú blinked slowly.

“…What?”

“Oh, it gets worse.” Arjun took another long drink before continuing. “We’re discussing Sunstream’s new skincare campaign – normal meeting, normal presentation – when this fool suddenly leans forward and says…” Arjun paused for effect.

“The reflection of tears can encourage the emotional growth necessary for Sunstream’s moisturizing line.”

Silence.

Ryú stared at him.

Arjun stared back.

“…He did not.”

“He absolutely did.”

Ryú tried.

He really did.

But the longer he pictured Kai sitting in the middle of a perfectly serious marketing meeting, delivering that line with complete sincerity, the harder it became to keep his composure.

His mouth twitched.

He pressed his lips together.

That only made it worse.

And then the image fully settled in.

A startled laugh burst out of him before he could stop it.

“Oh God,” he wheezed, covering his eyes briefly with one hand. “Tell me he didn’t actually say that in front of clients.”

“In front of EVERYONE.”

That only made Ryú laugh harder.

Because he could see it so clearly.

Kai, exhausted and emotionally devastated, somehow turning a skincare campaign into tragic poetry while an entire conference room sat there questioning their life choices.

“By Allah, you laughed!” Arjun pointed at him with the beer bottle. “The man is finally starting to resurface. You haven’t genuinely laughed in almost three weeks.”

Ryú finally managed to calm down enough to lean back into the couch, though a faint smile still lingered unwillingly around the edges of his mouth.

Unfortunately…

that expression faded the second his thoughts drifted back toward Nari.

Arjun noticed immediately.

And sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered sympathetically. “You’ve got it bad.”

Ryú looked over at his best friend quietly.

For all his wealth, influence, and power…

Arjun was one of the very few people he trusted enough to speak honestly around.

Which made the next admission even more unsettling.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Arjun stayed silent, letting him continue.

“Conquer meetings?” Ryú shrugged lightly. “Fine.”

“Defy financial markets? Wrestle failing companies into a bull market?” He gave a faint humorless laugh. “I can do that in my sleep.”

He looked down at the untouched glass in his hand.

“But fixing a woman…”

His shoulders lifted helplessly.

“…I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Arjun immediately shook his head.

“First of all,” he corrected firmly, “you are NOT fixing her.”

Ryú frowned slightly.

“If anything,” Arjun continued, “she’ll probably fix you.” That earned him a dry look. Unfortunately…

not a disagreeing one.

“You need to learn her—who she is,” Arjun said, leaning forward now. “And here’s the most important part: you need to understand her.”

Ryú’s expression sharpened slightly at that.

Arjun pointed at him.

“You normally approach a problem in business strategically. Methodically. Why not approach this problem the same way?”

Ryú blinked once.

“Exactly.” Arjun spread his hands. “So use that.”

 “…Use business strategy on a relationship?”

Arjun stared at him.

“Dear God, Ryú. I said use your analytical brain. I did not tell you to launch a hostile takeover of Nari St. Claire.”

Ryú gave him a dry look.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Ryú’s look darkened.

Arjun grinned.

“Good. Then understand her.”

“When you prepare for a merger, what do you do first?”

“Research.”

“Then?”

“Risk assessment.”

“And after that?”

Ryú answered automatically.

“Learn the company structure. Understand strengths, weaknesses, culture, long-term projections…”

His voice slowly trailed off. Because suddenly…

he understood what Arjun was actually saying.

Research. Pay attention to her.

Risk assessment. Understand what has hurt her.

Culture. Learn what matters to her.

Long-term projections…

His thoughts hit a brick wall.

Absolutely not.

Ryú mentally backed away from that one.

Seeing that he was catching on,

Arjun pointed at him triumphantly.

“Exactly.”

Ryú sat back thoughtfully.

“So, learn what she likes,” Arjun continued. “What she’s been through. What she’s STILL going through.”

A pause.

“What exhausts her.”

That one landed.

Hard.

Ryú’s brow furrowed.

Maybe that was part of what he’d been seeing.

Life. Work. Responsibility. The constant curveballs that came with all three.

Maybe she was simply exhausted.

And exhaustion had a way of shortening a person’s tolerance for unnecessary stupidity.

His stupidity included, apparently.

“Careful. You’re THIS close to becoming emotionally intelligent. Don’t panic,” Arjun warned as realization—and then hesitation—crossed Ryú’s face.

The tension in Ryú’s shoulders had eased for the first time since this disaster began.

“Nice to see you back,” Arjun said honestly.

Ryú huffed softly.

Arjun stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

“But if you pursue her with half the determination you use during hostile acquisitions…” A grin spread slowly across his face.

“I’d bet on you.”

Ryú snorted quietly.

“That may be the most manipulative encouragement I’ve ever received.”

“And yet,” Arjun replied smugly, “it worked.”

Ryú walked him to the door.

“Seriously,” he said quietly, “thanks for coming over.”

Arjun waved dismissively.

“What are friends for if not helping you survive your own misery?” Then his grin turned outright wicked.

“Besides…” he added casually, “Lakshmi wanted information on the mysterious woman currently tying Ryú Wei Lóng Alexander into emotional knots.”

Ryú closed his eyes briefly.

“Of course she does.”

“Oh, she’s invested now.” Arjun laughed while opening the front door. “Your suffering has become family entertainment.”

“So… comforting.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Arjun laughed as he walked out the door.

After Arjun left, Ryú sat alone in the quiet house for several long minutes.

Then finally, he picked up his phone and called Kai.

The younger man answered immediately.

“Ry—”

“My house. Tomorrow.  At one.”

Silence.

“…What?”

“Be here.”