What the actual hell just happened?
Did Han just… Did he just drop a hundred grand on a glorified gold cup? A mug. A freaking mug. I mean—yes, okay, it was 24k gold or whatever, but I swear to God, back home, people sell their souls for less. And here he is, sitting like he just bought socks on discount.
I was having a moment. A deep mental what-the-fuck-is-this-rich-people-world kind of crisis.
One minute I was scanning the room for threats like the diligent newbie I was, and the next, my boss was casually slamming six figures onto the table like it was poker night in Dubai.
I don't know what kind of man Han is—scratch that, I do now. He's insane. Like, dangerously composed and probably owns multiple pens that cost more than my monthly rent.
