The board room of Obsidian Holdings didn’t resemble a standard corporate meeting space. It was structured like a grand amphitheater, carved from black volcanic stone and lit by flickering sconces that burned with a faint, violet fire.

Ren sat in a sleek leather chair positioned precisely twenty-four inches to the right of Vance’s central obsidian throne. His laptop was open, his fingers hovering over the keys, but his attention was entirely locked on the collection of high-ranking clan elders filling the stone tiers. They weren't standard tech executives; they were ancient shifters, their powerful, oppressive presence creating a heavy static in the air.

Directly across the U-shaped table sat Marcus Obsidian, the senior elder with slicked-back gray hair and a sharp, predatory smile. His amber eyes narrowed as he locked onto Ren.

"Vance," Marcus boomed, his voice dripping with old-money arrogance. "Explain the meaning of this. A global council of the Obsidian line is an elite, sanctified gathering. Why is an ordinary, low-level human sitting at the high table

The temperature in the room plummeted. Ren felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck, but he kept his shoulders squared. He glanced at his cheap digital watch—he had to survive this meeting without crossing the invisible sixty-inch boundary line.

Vance slowly leaned forward, resting his powerful forearms on the volcanic stone table. "Mr. Lin is my newly appointed Executive Anchor. His presence is non-negotiable, Marcus. Review the logistical Q3 reports on your screen and stop wasting the council's time."

"An anchor?" Marcus chuckled, a cold, mocking sound that resonated through the chamber. "The Obsidian lineage has ruled the logistics empire for centuries through pure strength, not by relying on fragile human crutches. If your inner core is failing, Vance, you should step down and hand the seal to someone fit to lead."

As Marcus spoke, a subtle, invisible ripple of energy vibrated through the stone floor. Ren’s practical, tech-focused mind noticed it instantly—the violet flames in the wall sconces flared aggressively, and a heavy, suffocating pressure began to push against his chest. It was a targeted psychological suppression, designed to force Ren to panic, jump out of his seat, and run from the room.

If Ren stood up and bolted, he would break the five-foot radius. If the radius broke while Vance was under immense stress from the elders, the dragon curse would trigger a violent, catastrophic rampage.

Beneath the table, Ren saw Vance’s right fist clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. A faint, dark wisp of smoke began to bleed from his fingers. The gold in Vance's pupils was shifting, threatening to bleed into crimson fire.

The boundary line is slipping, Ren thought, his pulse hammering against his ribs. He's losing his grip because of the external pressure.

Instead of backing away from the hostile energy, Ren made a calculated, reckless move.

He didn't stand up. Instead, he gripped the armrests of his heavy, wheeled office chair and aggressively pulled himself sideways. The wheels squeaked loudly against the stone floor as he dragged his entire setup closer, slamming his chair directly against the side of Vance’s grand throne. Their knees knocked together under the table, their shoulders completely brushing through the fabric of their suits.

The direct, close-proximity contact acted like a physical circuit breaker.

The suffocating gravity in the room instantly evaporated. The dark smoke curling around Vance’s fingers withered and dissolved back into his skin, and the freezing air warmed to a stable, comfortable temperature. Vance let out a slow, sharp breath, his golden eyes locking onto Ren for a split second with a look of intense, profound shock—and deep, silent gratitude.

Ren turned his head slightly, staring directly across the table at the stunned Marcus.

"Elder Marcus," Ren said, his voice completely calm, smooth, and professional despite the chaos. "According to section four of the revised corporate bylaws, the Chief Executive Officer retains absolute discretion over the placement of administrative personnel during active sessions. If you wish to challenge the physical layout of the room, you will need to file a formal motion with the compliance department. Shall I pull up the digital paperwork for you?"

A few of the younger clan elders on the upper tiers let out muffled snickers. Marcus’s face flushed a deep, angry crimson, his amber eyes flashing with pure malice as he realized he had been publicly outsmarted by a normal human.

"Sit down and be silent, Marcus," Vance commanded, his baritone voice returning to a smooth, flawlessly calm, and terrifyingly cold resonance. The submission in the room was absolute. "Mr. Lin has clarified the rules. Let us begin the budget review."

For the next two hours, Ren remained glued to Vance's side, his arm pressing against the billionaire's sleeve as they navigated the complex corporate data. He could feel the steady, reassuring warmth radiating from Vance's body, a stark contrast to the cold hostility of the boardroom.

By the time the meeting adjourned and the elders cleared out, Ren was thoroughly exhausted. He slumped back in his chair, letting out a long, ragged sigh of relief.

Vance stood up, his massive frame completely blocking out the violet light of the sconces as he stepped around the table to face Ren. He stood precisely two feet away, looking down at his small assistant with a dangerous, deeply possessive satisfaction.

"You handled yourself exceptionally well today, Mr. Lin," Vance murmured, a dark smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Most humans would have broken under Marcus's suppression within thirty seconds. You didn't even flinch."

"I am getting paid a million dollars a year to sit still, Mr. Obsidian," Ren replied, offering a tired, sarcastic smirk as he closed his laptop. "A little workplace hostility isn't going to make me leave the radius."

Vance leaned down slightly, his golden eyes burning with an intense, unreadable hunger that had nothing to do with his curse. "We will see how stubborn you remain, Lin. Tomorrow, our schedule requires a private inspection of our underground research facility—and the rules of proximity will become significantly more... complicated."

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