The soft click of the lock was the only sound in the dim hallway. Lee Yoon-ah pushed her apartment door open, the weight of the day settling into her bones.
Home.
She stepped inside, letting her heavy work bag slide from her shoulder to thud by the entryway. Her coat followed, slung over the back of the small couch with a sigh that seemed to deflate her entire frame.
As she moved past the short hallway, the motion sensor flicked on, bathing her modest apartment in a warm, artificial glow.
It illuminated the tidy space, the quiet kitchenette, the single potted plant on the windowsill struggling in the evening light.
"Home sweet home, huh?" she murmured to the emptiness, the words hanging in the still air.
Her eyes scanned the room automatically. No shoes by the door besides her own. No jacket on the hook. No light from under the bedroom door.
'He's not home yet.'
The thought was a quiet echo, more observation than surprise these days. She didn't bother calling out.
Instead, she sank onto the couch, the cushions accepting her weariness.
Pulling her phone from her blazer pocket, she swiped it open.
The screen's bright light was harsh against her tired eyes.
Her thumb moved on muscle memory, opening the messaging app, scrolling to the contact labeled Minhyuk.
His last message glowed up at her, sent three hours ago.
Minhyuk: Got slammed with overtime. The Director needs the presentation deck by dawn. Can't make it tonight. Order something good for yourself, okay?
Below it, her own unanswered message from this morning—a simple "Good luck with your meeting!"—sat alone.
A familiar, hollow pang of disappointment bloomed in her chest, but it was dulled, muted by a thicker layer of sheer exhaustion.
It was just one more thing on a pile that was already too high.
With a quiet, resigned breath, she let the phone slip from her fingers. It landed on the low table with a harmless clack.
"Too much," she whispered to the silent apartment, slumping further into the couch.
Her head tilted back against the cushions, eyes closing against the gentle ceiling light. "Just… way too much on my plate already."
The fatigue was a physical weight, pulling at her eyelids, slowing her breathing.
The tension from the excruciating dinner, the CEO's cryptic orders, the Chairman's piercing gaze, the comments about her boyfriend—it all blurred into a static hum in her mind.
She didn't fight it.
In the quiet sanctuary of her own, empty living room, Lee Yoon-ah surrendered.
The careful posture of the perfect secretary melted away, and before she even knew she was drifting, she was asleep.
* * * * *
The Next Morning...
The morning light slanted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom, painting a stripe of gold across the pale concrete floor.
I stood before the full-length mirror in the walk-in closet, a space larger than my entire old apartment. The silence felt thick, expectant. Today wasn't just another day.
Today, I was reporting for work.
The woman in the reflection was still a stranger, but a stranger I was learning to pilot.
Her—my—wine-red hair was swept back in a low, simple bun, not a single strand daring to fall out of place. It was a style the original Austra would have considered 'boring,' but I needed boring. I needed armor.
My eyes traveled down.
The outfit I'd chosen was a masterpiece of silent warfare. A sheath dress in the exact shade of a stormy sky—a deep, serious charcoal grey.
It was made of a luxe, stretch-wool blend that hugged curves without clinging, that whispered competence instead of screaming look at me.
I'd paired it with simple black pumps with a sensible, two-inch heel. 'You can run in these if you need to,' I'd told myself while putting them on. 'Or stand your ground.'
On the plush velvet bench beside me lay the final piece: the lanyard.
I picked it up, the plastic still cool from the morning air. It was heavy, substantial.
The card inside was stark white, the Han Group logo—a sleek, minimalist interpretation of a flying crane—embossed in silver at the top.
Below it, in clean, authoritative typeface:
The Han Group logo stood proud at the top. And below it, in clean, bold, uncompromising type:
AUSTRA LAW
Special Executive Director
Han Department Stores
Not 'Fiancée.' Not 'Heiress.' Not 'Villainess.'
'Look at you, a director, huh...? ' I smiled.
The title was a door, and it had just swung open. My condition, my gamble, had paid off in words more powerful than I'd dared to imagine.
A slow breath left my lungs, steadying the sudden, fierce beat of my heart.
As I lifted the lanyard and slipped it over my head, the card came to rest squarely against my chest, right over my heart. It wasn't a burden. It was a compass.
I met the eyes of the woman in the mirror—those sharp, unfamiliar green eyes.
She looked back, not with the wild panic of the first days, nor with the scheming glint of the original villainess. She looked… capable.
'Alright, Austra,' I thought, and my reflection held my gaze with a calm I felt deepening in my own bones. 'You've got a seat at the table. A real one. Your job is to keep it.'
I took one last, deep breath, the fine wool of my suit expanding with the motion.
"Let's go to work, Director Law," I said, my voice clear in the silent room.
I turned, my heels clicking a firm, decisive rhythm on the polished floor as I walked out of the closet, ready to claim my new world.
* * *
The sleek black sedan cut through the morning traffic, a silent bullet aimed at the heart of Seoul's business district.
I watched the city blur past, my reflection in the tinted window superimposed over the steel and glass.
'Okay. Deep breath. Butler Kim wasn't kidding.'
After signing the contract, he'd laid it out for me over tea, his voice a patient rumble.
My position as 'Special Executive Director' wasn't just a fancy title.
It was a scalpel. I was being inserted directly into the flagship subsidiary, Han Department Stores. My job? Oversight. Strategy. Advisory.
In other words, I was to be the corporate watchdog, reporting directly to…
'Right. The CEO of Han Department Stores.'
My brain, my fangirl database, scrambled to pull the file.
In the drama, Han Department Stores was always just a backdrop—the place where the leads had a dramatic confrontation in the perfume aisle, or where the villainess bought a handbag to soothe her rage.
But who ran it?
A face flickered in my memory.
A calm, handsome man with intelligent eyes, often sharing a quiet drink with Han Eun-woo in his office after hours.
The one who'd listened to Eun-Woo's stoic, confused ramblings about his "irritatingly efficient secretary" and said, with a faint, knowing smile…
[ If she's the only variable that disrupts your calculations, Eun-woo, then perhaps she's not a variable. Perhaps she's the constant. ]
My heart did a little flip in my chest.
Kang Minjae.
Han Eun-woo's best friend. The voice of quiet reason. The aro-ace advisor who gave shockingly good, emotionally-detached relationship advice.
A giddy laugh almost escaped me. 'Oh, so it's him!'
Of all the possible bosses—a meddling uncle, a resentful old guard—I might actually get the one sane person in this entire conglomerate.
The one who saw the main lead's feelings before the main lead did.
The car glided to a smooth stop. I looked up.
Han Group Headquarters.
The monolithic glass tower I'd fled from in a panic days ago, panicked and hysterical. Now, I was walking back in. Voluntarily. With a security badge.
I stepped out, the crisp autumn air biting at my cheeks. My sensible heels hit the pavement with a decisive click. No running this time.
The lobby was a cathedral of cold, expensive silence. Marble floors, soaring ceilings, the distant hum of ambition.
I walked straight to the vast reception desk, where a woman with a perfect smile and dead eyes looked up.
"Good morning. I'm here to see Kang Minjae, CEO of Han Department Stores. I'm Austra Law, the new Special Executive Director."
The receptionist's smile didn't waver, but her fingers flew over her keyboard. A microsecond of scanning. Her eyes flicked up, and a different kind of recognition sparked in them. Not professional. Personal.
'Ah. Right. The water-splash incident. My legendary debut. In the drama too people knew about it, I guess rumors are really powerful.'
"Of course, Director Law," she said, her voice sweet as sugar substitute. "Mr. Kang is expecting you. Please take the executive elevator to the 42nd floor. His secretary will greet you."
"Thank you."
I turned toward the bank of elevators. As I walked, I felt it—the prickling on the back of my neck. The subtle shift in the air. A hushed whisper from a cluster of employees near the elevator.
"…isn't that the Law Group heiress…?"
"…the one who threw water at Secretary Lee and then stormed out from the HQ…?"
"…what is she doing here…?"
I kept my chin up, my expression a placid mask. 'Yep. That's me. The cartoon villainess. Nice to meet you all. Again.'
I reached the elevators and pressed the button for 42. As I waited, the whispers from behind me grew bolder.
"Looks like I'm famous," I thought, a wry smile touching my lips. "Or infamous. Potato, potahto."
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. I stepped into the empty, mirrored box. As the doors closed, sealing me in quiet ascent, I caught one last, clear snippet.
"…what's she doing on the executive floor…?"
The 42nd floor was a different world. The air was quieter, cooler. The carpet was thicker, swallowing sound.
Directly ahead was a sleek, modern desk, and behind it sat a woman with an immaculate bob and a sharp, assessing gaze. Kang Minjae's secretary.
She stood before I could even speak. "Director Law. Mr. Kang is expecting you. Please, go right in."
So much for small talk. I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. The walk to his office door felt longer than the elevator ride.
I stopped, raised my hand, and knocked twice. Solid. Firm.
From inside, a voice answered. Calm. Unhurried. Completely devoid of the dramatic tension that usually saturated this world.
"Come in."
I turned the handle, pushed the door open, and stepped into the office of the one man who might actually make sense.
I stepped into the office.
It was exactly as I'd pictured it for him: minimalist, but not cold.
Clean lines, warm wood, a wall of glass overlooking the city. The desk was a simple slab of pale oak. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and good coffee.
Kang Minjae stood up from behind it. He was wearing a crisp, light-grey shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows. He looked… relaxed. Like the calm at the center of Han Group's perpetual storm.
He offered a small, genuine smile. "Miss Law. I was expecting you."
"Mr. Kang," I said, matching his smile as I crossed the room. I took his outstretched hand. His grip was firm, brief, and professional. No power play, just an acknowledgment.
"Please, have a seat." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk as he settled back into his own.
I sat, my posture straight in my armor-dress. My eyes flicked to the simple nameplate on his desk: KANG MINJAE, CEO – HAN DEPARTMENT STORES.
"Since it's your first day," he began, his voice as calm as his expression, "I thought we'd keep it simple. You should meet the other team members, see your office, get a feel for the layout."
He glanced at a sleek watch on his wrist. "I was just about to head out for a morning review, actually so I'll introduce you to them on the way."
As he spoke, he stood again and walked to a stand by the door, picking up a perfectly tailored charcoal suit jacket. He shrugged it on with an effortless motion.
"The office seems… efficient," I said, looking around. "Very… you."
"Very me?" A faint chuckle. "I'll take that as a compliment. And you? Are you excited? Or just thoroughly intimidated?"
"A healthy mix of both," I admitted freely. "But mostly excited. It's a new challenge."
"Good." He finished buttoning his jacket, his gaze appraising but not unkind. "You'll see your fiancé—I mean, CEO Han—later, I'm sure. He tends to appear when least expected."
The casual correction, the slight tease in his tone… it was so normal. It threw me for a second.
"I've actually heard a lot about you, Mr. Kang," I said, seizing the opening. "Not just as the CEO of Departments. But as… a very good friend and advisor to CEO Han. I'm a bit of a fan of your work."
He paused, one hand on the doorknob, and looked back at me.
His eyes held a flicker of amused curiosity. "Is that so? Well, I hope the reality isn't too disappointing. Come on. Let me show you where you'll be plotting your corporate ascendancy. The view is almost as good as mine."
He opened the door, holding it for me.
I stood, smoothing my dress, and followed him out. The nervous flutter in my chest was still there, but it was now mixed with something else—a spark of genuine anticipation to my new work life.