It was one of those rare peaceful afternoons.
The gentle hum of conversation, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the faint scent of roasted beans made Ga-young's favorite café feel like a safe cocoon.
She sat tucked into her usual corner, laptop open, AirPods in, half-smiling as her playlist drowned out the world. Nothing could ruin this calm. Not today.
She reached for her coffee, took a slow sip, and kept typing—until one AirPod slipped from her ear.
And then she saw her.
Seo-ra.
The woman stood at her table, every inch of her elegance sharpened into something predatory. Her lips curved into a smirk as she eyed Ga-young's phone screen.
"P1Harmony?" she said with mock curiosity, sliding into the seat opposite her without invitation. "Didn't know you were into such."
Ga-young sighed, turning off her music. "I don't share my playlist with people I dislike."
Seo-ra chuckled softly, leaning back. "Do you know which of their songs is my favorite?"
"I'm not interested," Ga-young said flatly.
Seo-ra's smirk deepened. "'End It.' Fitting, don't you think?"
The words hung between them like smoke.
Ga-young's fingers tightened around her cup. "What do you want, Ms. Jang?"
Seo-ra crossed one leg over the other, her gaze playful but cutting. "I came all the way here just to see you. Isn't it polite to at least buy me a coffee?"
"I don't recall owing you courtesy," Ga-young replied, closing her laptop halfway — a polite gesture that still radiated defiance.
Seo-ra picked up Ga-young's coffee instead, bringing it to her lips. "As expected. Cold, blunt. I heard you were nice. Guess they were wrong." She set the cup down. "I'll be brief."
Their eyes met.
"Work for me," Seo-ra said smoothly. "Help me bring Namjoon down, and I'll clear every last one of your debts. Clean slate."
Ga-young blinked slowly, her lips curling in disbelief. "That's your offer?" She stood, gathering her things. "I actually thought you might say something worth hearing."
Seo-ra didn't stop her — not immediately. She waited until Ga-young was halfway turned before dropping the next bomb.
"Your father," she began casually, stirring Ga-young's abandoned coffee. "He took a loan years ago from a private firm, didn't he?"
Ga-young froze.
"Well," Seo-ra said, smiling, "I bought that firm. Which means your debt — all of it — now belongs to me."
Silence. Only the low jazz playing in the background dared to speak.
Ga-young turned slowly, her expression darkening.
"Did I get your attention now?" Seo-ra asked sweetly. "You have three days, Ms. Choi. Either you agree to work for me… or you find a way to pay up."
Ga-young stared at her for a long moment, her jaw tightening. "Just when I thought you couldn't go any lower," she said quietly.
And with that, she turned and walked out, the doorbell chiming faintly behind her.
Seo-ra watched her leave, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She pulled out her phone, the reflection of the café lights flickering across her face.
Her eyes glimmered, and her voice dropped an octave.
"Get the boys."
She ended the call, setting the empty cup down.
Outside, through the glass, Ga-young's figure disappeared into the crowded street.
And Seo-ra's smile returned — slow, deliberate, venomous.
"Let the game begin."
---
The cool evening air hit Ga-young the moment she stepped out of the café. The sun had already dipped below the skyline, leaving streaks of burnt orange fading into deep violet. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, her mind replaying every word Seo-ra had said.
She bought the firm.
Three days.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, but she kept walking — fast, steady, pretending she wasn't unraveling inside.
The street was busy, yet it felt too quiet. Every voice, every passing car sounded distant, muffled. She stopped for a second at a crosswalk, staring blankly at the traffic light.
Then — something.
A flicker of movement in the reflection of a store window. A figure, dark coat, walking a little too slowly behind her.
She frowned and turned slightly, pretending to adjust her bag. The figure stopped too. Looked down. Lit a cigarette.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe.
She started walking again, cutting through a side street. The crowd thinned. The sound of footsteps followed faint, deliberate.
Ga-young's pulse raced. She glanced over her shoulder no one. Just the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp.
Her phone buzzed. She jumped.
A message.
Unknown Number: Three days, Ms. Choi. Don't waste them.
Her fingers trembled. She looked around — the street now completely still, eerily empty.
Then her phone buzzed again. A photo.
Her.
Sitting in the café earlier, earphones in, eyes on her laptop.
Her breath caught. Someone had taken that picture — today.
"Shit," she whispered under her breath.
She quickened her pace, nearly running now, the café far behind her. She didn't look back again — couldn't.
At the corner of the street, a black car idled, its engine low and steady.
Inside, Seo-ra sat in the back seat, the glow of her phone lighting her face. She scrolled through the photo of Ga-young one last time, a satisfied smile curling at the edges of her mouth.
"She's frightened already," her driver said.
Seo-ra chuckled softly, eyes never leaving the screen.
"Good," she said. "Fear makes people obedient."
She leaned back, the city lights flickering across her face.
"Let's see how long she can pretend to be brave."
The car pulled away slowly, melting into the night.