The night air was heavy with silence, the kind that followed chaos.
Seon-woo stood near the center of his apartment, his phone still in his hand long after the call had ended. The city lights outside the glass windows flickered calmly, unaware that just minutes ago, bullets had shattered his sense of control.
He turned slowly.
Lee Ha-rin was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch. Her face was pale, but her eyes were steady. One hand was pressed against her arm, blood staining her fingers, dripping quietly onto the marble floor.
That sight made his breath hitch.
He crossed the distance between them in seconds and crouched down in front of her.
"Are you okay?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Dr. Soo-yun is on her way. She'll be here any minute."
Ha-rin looked up at him and gave a faint, almost teasing smile.
"I'm fine," she said. "The bullet only grazed me. It's nothing serious."
Nothing serious.
Something snapped inside him.
"Nothing?" His jaw tightened. "Do you have any idea what could've happened if it went deeper?"
She shrugged lightly, as if discussing a minor inconvenience.
"Then I would've dealt with it," she replied. "This is my job. I'm used to getting hurt."
That sentence hurt him more than the gunshot ever could.
Because she wasn't fearless.
She was simply accustomed to pain.
Before he could respond, the door opened hurriedly.
"Sir, the doctor is here," Dae-jin announced.
Dr. Soo-yun rushed inside the apartment, her expression shifting instantly when she saw Ha-rin.
"Ha-rin!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside her.
"You're bleeding so much—why didn't you call me sooner?"
Ha-rin sighed internally.
Not again.
Outwardly, she smiled.
"I'm really okay," she said gently. "You worry too much."
Soo-yun carefully cleaned the wound, her movements professional but tense. When she finally finished bandaging it, she straightened and turned toward Seon-woo.
"These medicines are important," she said firmly. "Make sure she takes them on time."
"I can manage it myself," Ha-rin said stubbornly.
"No," Seon-woo said immediately, his voice calm but unyielding.
"I'll take care of it."
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between them—something fragile and dangerous.
Later, Soo-yun insisted on leaving with Ha-rin.
"It's too late to go back alone," Ha-rin said. "Come to my place. Leave in the morning."
Soo-yun hesitated, then nodded.
As Ha-rin stood near the door, she paused.
Seon-woo was watching her, his expression unreadable, his worry barely hidden.
"Take care," he said softly.
"Good night, Ha-rin."
She nodded once and walked out.
The door closed.
And with it, something inside him shifted.
The apartment felt emptier than before.
Dae-jin broke the silence.
"Don't you think," he said carefully, "you're worrying too much about her?"
Seon-woo looked away.
"No," he replied. "It's not like that."
Dae-jin smiled faintly.
"I've been your bodyguard for years," he said. "But before that, I was your friend. And I think you're starting to care about her more than you realize."
Seon-woo let out a quiet laugh, though it held no humor.
"I just don't want her getting hurt because of me."
But deep inside, he knew the truth.
It wasn't responsibility anymore.
It was fear.
That same night, Ha-rin sat alone in her room, an old case file spread open in front of her.
RYU GROUP MURDERS — CLOSED
Her fingers trembled slightly as they traced a familiar name.
Ryu Tae-jin.
"I'll prove it," she whispered into the darkness.
"No matter what it costs."
Outside her window, the city slept peacefully.
Unaware that the past had awakened.
And that love, danger, and truth were about to collide.
The room was wrapped in soft darkness, lit only by the faint glow of the city slipping through the curtains. Ha-rin lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, while Soo-yun rested beside her, propped up on one elbow, her expression unusually thoughtful.
"You know," Soo-yun said quietly, breaking the silence, "I noticed something today."
Ha-rin turned her head slightly. "What?"
"Seon-woo," Soo-yun replied. "The way he looks at you… the way he worries. It's different. With you, he's not the same man he is with everyone else."
Ha-rin frowned and shifted uncomfortably.
"No. You're imagining things," she said. "He's a strange person, that's all. I thought he'd be nothing more than a cold, serious CEO—but he's nothing like I expected."
Soo-yun smiled knowingly. "He's serious with the world," she teased, "just not with you."
Ha-rin suddenly sat up. "No. Absolutely not. You're wrong."
Soo-yun blinked. "That confident? Why?"
"Because he already has a fiancée."
Soo-yun's eyes widened. "What? Who?"
"Oh Mi-rae," Ha-rin answered quietly. "He didn't say it directly, but she did. She made it very clear that she thinks I'm interested in him—and warned me to stay away."
Soo-yun fell silent for a moment, then exhaled slowly.
"So I was overthinking," she said at last. "That means… you don't like him."
Ha-rin nodded without hesitation.
"Exactly."
She lay back down and pulled the blanket closer.
"Enough of this," she said softly. "Let's sleep. I have an early morning tomorrow. Turn off the light."
Soo-yun reached for the switch, her voice gentle.
"Good night, Ha-rin."
"Good night."
The room sank into darkness.
But even with her eyes closed, Ha-rin couldn't sleep.
Her expression softened, her thoughts drifting—unwanted, unanswered. Somewhere deep inside, a quiet question stirred, one she refused to face.
And the night listened.
Morning light filtered softly into the hospital room, pale and fragile, as if even the sun was afraid to be too harsh. The steady beep… beep… of the heart monitor filled the silence, a quiet reminder that life here was hanging by thin threads.
Ha-rin sat beside the bed, her fingers tightly wrapped around her mother's fragile hand. It felt colder than she remembered. Tears slid down Ha-rin's cheeks without a sound, falling onto the white sheets like unspoken prayers.
"Mom…" her voice trembled, barely louder than a whisper.
Slowly, painfully, her mother's eyelids fluttered open. A weak smile appeared on her lips, one that carried years of regret. With trembling hands, she reached for the oxygen mask.
"No—" Ha-rin panicked, leaning forward. "Please don't remove it. You'll have trouble breathing."
Her mother gently stopped her, placing the mask aside. Her grip on Ha-rin's hand tightened, as if she feared letting go.
"Ha-rin…" she murmured. "Forgive me."
Ha-rin shook her head, tears spilling faster.
"I wasn't a good mother," her mother continued, each word heavy with effort. "Not to you… not to your father. I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but… I want to leave this world in peace. My child… please tell me you forgive me."
Ha-rin broke.
She clasped her mother's hand with both of hers, pressing it against her chest as sobs escaped her.
"I forgive you," she cried. "For everything. I promise—you'll be fine. Nothing will happen to you. I promise."
Relief flickered in her mother's tired eyes. A faint, content smile curved her lips.
"My brave girl…"
Ha-rin leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her mother's forehead, lingering as if she could pass her strength through that single touch.
"Rest now," she whispered. "I'll talk to the doctor and come back. Bye, Mom."
Her mother nodded weakly.
Ha-rin stood, wiping her tears with trembling hands. She looked back once more—memorizing the fragile rise and fall of her mother's chest—before quietly leaving the room.
Outside, the air felt heavier.
Ha-rin sat across from the doctor, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as she listened, her heart pounding with fear.
"Doctor," she asked, her voice barely steady, "please tell me the truth. How is my mother… really?"
The doctor's room was filled with a cold, suffocating silence.
Ha-rin sat on the edge of the chair, her back stiff, her hands trembling in her lap as her fingers twisted together again and again. Across from her, Dr. Im Da-eun stood by the desk, flipping through medical files with a seriousness that made Ha-rin's chest tighten.
"Doctor…" Ha-rin spoke at last, her voice shaking despite her efforts to stay calm.
"There must be a way. Any way. Please… do whatever it takes to make her better. There has to be something."
Dr. Im stopped reading.
She took a slow, heavy breath, her eyes lowering to the floor before meeting Ha-rin's gaze.
"We've done everything we could," she said quietly. "We tried every possible treatment. But her condition is getting worse day by day."
Ha-rin's heart dropped.
"So… there's nothing left?" Her voice cracked. "Nothing at all?"
The doctor hesitated, as if the words weighed too much to be spoken aloud.
"I'm sorry," she said. "There's nothing more we can do."
Tears flooded Ha-rin's eyes as she leaned forward, desperation written across her face.
"Then how much time?" she whispered.
"How much time does my mother have left?"
Dr. Im closed the file slowly, her hands heavy.
"Only… one week."
The words shattered everything.
Ha-rin went completely still. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out. It felt as if her soul had gone numb, as if her heart had stopped beating for a moment.
She stood up silently.
Without saying another word, Ha-rin gave the doctor a faint nod and walked out of the room, her steps unsteady but controlled—like someone refusing to fall apart in front of strangers.
The hospital corridor was almost empty.
Ha-rin collapsed onto a cold bench, staring at the floor. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she forced them back, pressing her lips together as if holding herself together with sheer will.
And then—
Her mind drifted.
Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Lee house, filling the living room with warmth. Colorful cushions were scattered across the floor. Eight-year-old Ha-rin sat cross-legged beside her mother, wearing a small pink dress, crayons spread around them.
"Mom, look!" young Ha-rin said excitedly, holding up her drawing.
"I made a princess. She looks just like you!"
Her mother laughed softly, studying the picture.
"A princess? Me?" she teased. "I'm just your mom."
"No!" Ha-rin insisted, shaking her head.
"You're a princess. And I'm your little princess."
Her mother smiled and gently pinched Ha-rin's cheek.
"And you," she said warmly, "are my greatest treasure."
Ha-rin wrapped her arms around her mother's neck, hugging her tightly.
"When I grow up," she declared, "I'll buy you a big castle."
"A castle?" her mother laughed. "Wow! And in that castle, we'll eat ice cream day and night."
Ha-rin's eyes sparkled.
"Promise?"
"Promise," her mother replied.
They linked their pinky fingers together, sealing the deal, their laughter echoing through the room—pure, innocent, and endless.
Back in the hospital corridor, Ha-rin lowered her head as silent tears finally fell.
Promises…
Castles…
Forever…
She pressed her fist against her chest, her heart aching with a pain too deep for tears.
One week, she thought.
Only one week left…
The phone rang once.
"ahn, Seo-jin," Ha-rin said sharply. "I'm on my way."
She ended the call and slipped into the passenger seat moments later.
The car tore through the night, its tires slicing across the dark asphalt. Streetlights flashed past in rapid streaks, their reflections sliding over the windshield like restless ghosts. The city felt awake yet distant—blurred by speed and urgency.
Ha-rin sat rigidly in the passenger seat, her jaw clenched, her eyes burning with restrained fury. Beside her, Seo-jin gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.
His voice broke the tension.
"What did you find out about Ryu Tae-jin?"
Ha-rin didn't hesitate.
"It's him," she said coldly. "Ryu Tae-jin is the one behind the attacks on Seon-woo."
Seo-jin shot her a sharp glance.
"That's a serious accusation. How can you be so sure?"
Ha-rin drew in a shaky breath. Pain flickered across her face—but her voice stayed steady.
"Because Ryu Tae-jin is the man who murdered my father."
The car screeched to a halt.
Seo-jin slammed the brakes, and the vehicle jerked violently on the empty road.
"What?!" he shouted, turning toward her. "What do you mean?"
Ha-rin stared straight ahead, her hands clenched into fists.
"That night…" she said quietly. "I saw my father's killer with my own eyes. I never forgot his face. And now I know—it was Ryu Tae-jin."
Seo-jin went silent.
She continued, each word heavy with truth.
"He killed Seon-woo's parents too. And now he's trying to kill Seon-woo himself."
The air inside the car felt thick, suffocating.
After a long moment, Seo-jin spoke again, his voice low.
"You're certain? Completely certain?"
Ha-rin finally turned to him. Her eyes were fierce, unshaken.
"One hundred percent."
She leaned forward slightly.
"All we need now is proof. Without it, everything will be destroyed right in front of us."
Seo-jin exhaled slowly, processing the weight of her words.
"Then what's the plan?"
Ha-rin's expression hardened—steel replacing sorrow.
"Watch him," she said. "Everywhere he goes. Everyone he meets. Every move he makes."
A dangerous calm settled over her.
"He will make a mistake," she added.
"And when he does… we'll catch him."
The engine roared back to life.
The car disappeared into the night—carrying a truth that could shatter everything.
The night was heavy with tension.
In the dark, luxurious office, the curtains were drawn tight, letting in only the faint glow of a single lamp. Tae-jin sat in his leather chair, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand, the amber liquid catching the light like liquid fire. His expression was calm, but there was a dangerous edge beneath that calm.
Ji-hoon stood stiffly before him, shoulders tense, hands fidgeting.
"Sir… Seon-woo escaped again," Ji-hoon said quietly, almost as if saying it louder would make it worse.
Tae-jin slammed his glass down onto the table, the sharp clink echoing in the room. "Do any of your plans ever work?" His voice was ice-cold, laced with fury. "So many attempts… and every single time, he survives!"
Ji-hoon lowered his gaze, shamed. "Sir… he only had Dae-jin before, his loyal protector. But now… he has a detective. She's with him twenty-four-seven. If you want… I can take care of her."
Tae-jin leaned back in his chair, a thin smile spreading across his face. "No. Not yet." His voice was smooth, controlled, but deadly. "We wait. I want to see this detective for myself. And arrange a meeting with Seon-woo. I want to know… who is she, that can protect him so well."
Ji-hoon nodded. "Understood, sir."
"And… make a solid plan," Tae-jin added, his voice dropping to a low, threatening rumble. "This time, Seon-woo will not survive. And that detective… I'll deal with her myself."
Ji-hoon bowed his head, retreating silently as the shadows of the office seemed to press closer around Tae-jin.
Meanwhile, at the police headquarters, the evidence room glowed under the stark light of fluorescent bulbs. Photographs, files, and case notes were spread across tables and pinned to whiteboards. Ha-rin, Seo-jin, and Baek Dong-hyun huddled over the evidence, their faces taut with focus.
"Look at this," Seo-jin said, pointing to the photos. "The attack from two days ago… and the one before that… same pattern. Same clothes. Same method."
Baek Dong-hyun flipped through a file. "Forensic reports confirm it—the same gun was used both times. The attackers are from the same network."
Ha-rin's eyes narrowed. Sharp, determined, unrelenting. "And Tae-jin's house?"
Dong-hyun showed her another file. "His assistant Ji-hoon was there for hours. Everything goes through him."
Ha-rin leaned back slightly, deep in thought, before speaking with finality. "Keep eyes on him. Ji-hoon is Tae-jin's most loyal man. If we break him… the whole picture will become clear."
Dong-hyun smirked, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "Then it's almost time. We're close to making our move."
Back at Seon-woo's house, the atmosphere was far lighter, deceptively so.
Seon-woo placed a steaming bowl of soup on the table. Ha-rin's eyes widened slightly at the surprise.
"You can cook?" she asked, trying to hide her curiosity.
He offered a soft smile. "My mother taught me."
"And you skipped the office today?" she asked, tilting her head.
He countered smoothly, "Where were you all day?"
Ha-rin paused for a moment. "I had some work… so I was busy."
Seon-woo set the bowl before her. "Here. Try it." He sat opposite her, relaxed, a rare softness in his posture. "I mostly eat alone. Occasionally Dae-jin or Oh Mi-rae join, but mostly… alone."
Ha-rin's tone softened, curious. "Dae-jin… he's been your friend since childhood, right?"
"Yes," Seon-woo said warmly. "Like a younger brother to me." His expression grew serious. "Now, tell me about yourself."
Ha-rin hesitated, deflecting lightly. "There's nothing special about me. Mostly, I stay with Soo-yun."
Seon-woo's eyes flicked sharply, piecing together a question he had long wondered. "You… Lee Joon-hyuk's daughter?"
A faint smile tugged at Ha-rin's lips. "Yes. And your cooking… it's surprisingly good," she teased lightly, playful.
Relief flashed across Seon-woo's face, a small smile breaking through his usual stoicism. "Glad you like it."
As Ha-rin lifted her spoon, steam from the soup curled over her hand—too close. A splash of hot soup spilled onto her skin.
"Ahh!" she cried, wincing.
Seon-woo was instantly at her side, napkin in hand, his eyes soft but concerned as he dabbed the spill. "Be careful… you could've burned yourself."
Ha-rin looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his gaze. His concern wasn't for show—it was real. For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and electric, a subtle tension that neither could ignore.
From the doorway, Oh Mi-rae paused, watching the scene. Jealousy flickered briefly in her eyes, mingled with confusion. Without a word, she turned and slipped away quietly, leaving the two alone.
The night seemed to hold its breath.
The luxury club was alive with music, pulsating lights cutting through the smoky haze. Laughter and chatter bounced off the walls, but for Oh Mi-rae, it all felt distant—like a blurred backdrop to her own storm.
She sat alone at a corner table, a half-empty glass in her hand. Her fingers traced the rim absentmindedly, while her eyes shimmered with tears that refused to fall. The sight of Seon-woo and Ha-rin across her memory kept replaying, sharp and relentless.
She took a deep, bitter sip, her throat burning, the liquid matching the ache in her chest.
"I was never… noticed," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling under the weight of years of unspoken longing. "I was always there… by his side, watching him, caring for him… and he never really saw me. Not once."
A laugh, hollow and sad, escaped her lips. She pressed her eyes shut, tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "All these years… I carved a place in his world for him, and yet… he never looked at me. Never really looked."
Her hands tightened around the glass. "And now… now a detective comes into his life, hasn't even been there a month… and his every glance, every thought, seems only for her."
Her voice broke completely, a whisper lost amid the thump of the music. "Why was I invisible in his world? Why couldn't it be me… instead of Ha-rin?"
The music thumped harder, but Mi-rae sat frozen, swallowed by the bitter ache of a love that was always hers… yet never truly seen.
The restaurant buzzed with laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses. It was Baek Dong-hyun's birthday, and the table was alive with energy—friends teasing each other, candles flickering, and the sweet aroma of cake filling the air. Ha-rin sat among her colleagues, a smile tugging at her lips as Dong-hyun blew out the candles and everyone cheered.
And then, the atmosphere shifted.
Seon-woo entered. Casual, yet commanding, his presence immediately drew every eye, though he moved with an ease that made the surprise subtle.
"Oh! CEO Ryu? You're here?" Dong-hyun exclaimed, a mix of shock and delight in his voice.
Seon-woo's lips curved into a warm, disarming smile. "I had some work nearby… but when I saw Ha-rin, I couldn't resist dropping by."
Laughter rippled around the table. Seon-woo didn't linger in the spotlight, though. He moved directly to Ha-rin, sliding into the chair beside her. Almost instinctively, he served her a portion of the food on his plate, his eyes soft as they met hers.
"Have you eaten anything?" he asked gently, his voice a soothing contrast to the chaos around them. "You've been working all day… take care of yourself, at least a little."
Ha-rin froze, startled. Her mind stumbled, trying to catch up to the sincerity in his gaze.
"You… you're alright?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"I am," he replied softly, though there was an unspoken warmth in his eyes—a gentle light that Ha-rin couldn't ignore. Even Seon-woo himself barely realized the depth of his own feelings in that moment.
Across the table, Seo-jin watched, his expression unreadable at first. But as Ha-rin leaned in to introduce him to Seon-woo earlier, something shifted. A pang of jealousy, sharp and sudden, tightened around his chest. Without a word, he pushed back his chair and left the table, the doorway swallowing him.
"Seo-jin!" Ha-rin called out, concern threading through her voice as she followed him.
"It's nothing," he said, his eyes hidden, his smile faint. "Just… an important phone call. You should go back."
Ha-rin frowned, puzzled. "You can call later—we can head out together."
"Okay… five minutes," he murmured.
Five minutes later, they returned, sitting side by side. Ha-rin leaned back, talking and laughing lightly, while Seo-jin listened. But every laugh, every glance between Ha-rin and Seo-jin sparked an unintentional jealousy in Seon-woo. He left quietly, retreating before his emotions betrayed him.
Later that night… outside Ha-rin's apartment
Ha-rin hurried to her apartment, keys fumbling in her hands, when a sudden grip yanked her back. Startled, she stumbled into a strong chest.
"What—what is this rudeness?!" she exclaimed, stepping back—and then froze.
Seon-woo.
His gaze was intense, unreadable, and there was a strange flush to his face. "Seon-woo… have you been drinking?" she asked, concern lacing her words.
He said nothing. His eyes never left hers, heavy with emotion.
Ha-rin pulled her hand back nervously. "Let's just go inside. You're not well like this."
"No," he growled softly, a trembling edge to his voice. "First… you answer me."
"Seon-woo," she said, taking a steadying breath, "let's go inside. In the morning, when you're sober… I'll answer."
"No," he insisted, his voice sharp, his mind clouded with alcohol and emotion. "Now! First tell me… me… or Seo-jin?"
Ha-rin stared at him, shock and confusion battling in her chest. She couldn't find words fast enough.
"You know what?!" Seon-woo suddenly said, his voice breaking with frustration and vulnerability. "I don't even understand what's happening to me—these feelings… I don't understand anything!"
And then, as if all his control had shattered, he collapsed, his head falling gently against Ha-rin's shoulder.
Her heart skipped. She caught him instinctively, her hands on his face, staring at him in stunned silence.
For a brief, suspended moment, nothing existed but the weight of his presence, his warmth, and the unspoken truths lingering between them.
To be continued…