It had been a month since I shifted to Seoul. Every day was the same—going to work, drowning in files, and bringing home more work for the next day. It felt like I was stuck in a loop, barely getting time to breathe for myself.
But today was different.
When I woke up in the morning, my head felt heavy, and a wave of nausea made me sit back down on the bed. My whole body ached, and dizziness washed over me every time I tried to stand up. I sighed and reached for my phone, quickly texting Ji Hwan:
"Not feeling well today, I won't be coming to the office."
I tossed the phone aside and pulled the blanket over myself, closing my eyes. In just a blink, I was gone into sleep.
I woke up at 4 pm because of the notification on my phone it was Min jae...
"Are you alright?? Are you at home or in office?" I ignored it and went back to sleep
When I woke again, it was already 2:00 p.m., and I thought I heard someone knocking on my door. My throat was dry, and my head spun slightly as I got up. I splashed cold water on my face, dried it quickly with a towel, and dragged myself toward the door.
When I opened it—I froze.
It was Ji Hwan, standing with a worried expression, holding a small paper bag.
"Hi, Hannah-ssi," he said softly, his voice carrying genuine concern. "I read your message, and… I couldn't focus on work after that. Are you okay?"
I blinked, surprised to see him there. "Ji Hwan-ssi… I—I'm okay. Just a mild fever, nothing else. You didn't have to come all the way here."
Before he could reply, the door next to mine opened.
Min Jae stepped out, tall and casual, his presence filling the narrow corridor instantly. His eyes flicked between me and Ji Hwan, and then landed on me.
"Hannah-ssi, you don't look fine," Min Jae said in that deep, calm tone of his, his gaze sharp like he could see through me.
I let out a nervous cough, waving my hand. "No, no… I'm fine. Really."
But Ji Hwan suddenly raised his hand toward my forehead. "Let me check if you have a fever."
The cough tore through me again, sharp and unrelenting. I took a step backward. My chest ached, and sweat clung to my temples, but I forced myself to wave Ji Hwan off with a shaky hand.
"I—I'm okay," I said quickly, even though my voice betrayed me. "Don't worry."
His hand, which had hovered close as if ready to steady me, dropped awkwardly. "Oh… sorry. I didn't mean to cross a line."
Another cough bent me forward, my throat burning, and for the first time, I admitted to myself that maybe I wasn't fine at all.
Ji Hwan's eyes softened. "At least let me keep you company until you feel better. You shouldn't push yourself alone like this."
I hesitated. Part of me hated showing weakness. But there was something earnest about him, something that made the refusal catch in my throat. Finally, I gave a small nod. "…Alright. Just for a while."
When I stepped aside to let him in, I realized Min Jae was still standing there, hands in his pockets, gaze steady.
"You too?" I asked, half-expecting him to tease.
Instead, he shrugged lightly, lips quirking. "If you collapse, who's going to drag you to the ER? Him?" He tilted his head toward Ji Hwan with the faintest smirk. "Better to have backup."
I rolled my eyes, but a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "Fine. But don't expect tea service. I can barely stand."
Inside, Ji Hwan placed a paper bag on the table. "Porridge," he said with a small smile. "Figured you might not have cooked."
Warmth flickered in my chest at his thoughtfulness. "Thank you… that's kind."
Min Jae leaned against the wall casually, not hovering, but his eyes kept finding me. He didn't say much, only tossing in the occasional remark when I tried to move around instead of resting.
Time slipped by, the quiet punctuated by Ji Hwan's light chatter and my stubborn coughs. But as the night deepened, I felt the fever gnawing harder at me.
"I should rest," I finally admitted, sinking back against the couch cushions.
Ji Hwan nodded gently. "I'll head out then. But call me if you need anything."
I smiled faintly. "I will. Thank you again."
After Ji hwan was gone Min Jae lingered a moment longer. His gaze met mine, softer now. "Sleep, Hannah. Don't push yourself." His tone wasn't commanding—it was steady, almost grounding. Then he pushed off the wall, hands still in his pockets, and left.
The apartment quieted. I ate a few spoonfuls of porridge and finally let exhaustion drag me to bed. The fever blurred the edges of my thoughts, sleep tugging at me in uneven waves.
But sometime after midnight, a faint click jolted me awake.
At first, I told myself it was the fever—hallucinations, maybe. But then I heard it again. The subtle sound of footsteps on my floor. Too deliberate. Too real.
My breath caught. I forced myself upright, clutching the blanket tightly.
The door to my bedroom creaked.
A figure stood in the frame. Helmet on. Visor down. A paper bag dangling from his hand like some cruel disguise.
But there was nothing casual about the way he moved. Silent. Intentional. Predatory.
Every nerve in my body screamed at me to run, but my fever made me weak. Still, I bit back the urge to whimper. If I couldn't fight him physically, I wouldn't give him fear.
"You've got the wrong apartment," I rasped, forcing steel into my voice even as my pulse hammered.
He didn't answer. He just kept walking closer.
My heart raced. The fever weighed me down, but I refused to break. If he thought I'd be an easy target—he was wrong.
But then his hand shot forward, cloth pressed against my mouth. The sharp, chemical scent filled my nose, suffocating me.
I twisted, fought, nails clawing at his arm, desperate to wrench free. My lungs burned, vision blurring, but still, I refused to go quietly.
There was a familiar voice, "You… you have pretty eyes. And he don't deserve you"
The last thing I remember before the darkness dragged me under was a single, unshakable thought:
Whoever he was—he had chosen the wrong woman to mess with.