It was almost midnight when Kang Hye-rin realized he was still there.
The office was silent, washed in the pale glow of city lights spilling through the windows. Most of the building had gone dark hours ago, but one office still gleamed — his.
Lee Joon-hyuk stood by the glass wall, a tall, unmoving figure framed by Seoul's endless skyline. The city stretched beneath him — wide, glittering, untouchable — just the way he liked it.
Hye-rin hesitated at the door before stepping in quietly, the soft click of her heels the only sound. She placed the finalized report on his desk, trying not to disturb the silence.
"You shouldn't stay so late," he said, still facing the window.
Her brow lifted slightly. "Are you worried about me, Mr. Lee?"
His reflection in the glass shifted — his lips twitched, but not into a smile. "You're an employee. If something happens to you, it reflects on me."
"Of course," she murmured, voice light but edged. "Wouldn't want to ruin your image."
The sarcasm slipped out before she could stop it. The air in the room changed — not tense, but fragile. When he finally turned to look at her, his expression wasn't the usual mask of control. For a fleeting moment, she saw something behind it — regret, maybe. Or concern.
"I mean it," he said quietly. "Go home."
The tone was softer than she'd ever heard from him. Not commanding. Not distant. Just tired.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Good night, sir."
As she walked out, she could feel his gaze follow her to the door, then fade as the elevator closed behind her.
Inside the mirrored lift, the silence pressed in again. Her reflection stared back — composed, calm — but her chest felt too tight, her pulse unsteady.
She told herself it didn't matter. He was just being polite. It didn't mean anything.
But as the elevator descended and his last words replayed in her head, she couldn't shake the truth beneath them.
If it didn't matter…
Why had his voice sounded so tired when he said it?