Later that night, Ji-Ah followed her usual routine.
Hot shower. Steam fogging the mirror. Her thoughts refusing to quiet.
She slipped into soft, cozy pajamas—pastel pink, loose and warm, the kind that usually made her feel safe.
Her hair fell damp over her shoulders as she climbed onto the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chest.
She closed her eyes.
Nothing.
The house was silent, but her mind wasn't.
The words came back uninvited, sharp and vivid, flashing behind her eyelids like a warning burned into the dark.
I will get you.
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up slowly, heart pounding harder than it should have.
"…No," she whispered.
Her gaze slid to the desk.
The laptop.
She stared at it for a long moment, then reached for it, fingers tight around the edges as if it might bite back.
Barefoot, she stepped into the hallway.
The mansion felt different at night—too big, too quiet. Every step echoed softly as she stopped in front of Ha-Joon's door.
She hesitated.
Then knocked.
The door swung open almost immediately.
Ha-Joon stood there in pajamas—simple, dark gray, clean lines, sleeves loose at the wrists.
His hair was slightly messy, not styled, falling naturally over his forehead. No suit. No cold precision.
For once, he looked… human.
Soft.
Still unreadable—but real.
"Yes?" he asked calmly.
Ji-Ah swallowed. "Sir. We need to talk. Now."
His gaze flicked briefly to the laptop in her hands, then back to her face.
"Come in."
She shook her head quickly. "No. I—outside is fine."
"Come in," he repeated, tone firm, not unkind.
There was no room for argument in it.
She hesitated one more second—then stepped inside.
The door closed quietly behind her.
She held the laptop out with both hands, arms stiff.
"Sir… look."
Ha-Joon took it from her and set it on the desk, opening it with practiced calm.
The glow of the screen lit his face as he scrolled through the images—photos of the mansion gate, of Ji-Ah stepping inside, timestamps too precise to ignore.
Then the message.
If Ha-Joon doesn't give me the shares and his company… I will get you.
He didn't react immediately.
No sharp breath. No curse.
Just silence.
"This is Do-Hae," he said finally, voice even, certain. "No one else would be this careless—and this bold."
Ji-Ah's fingers twisted together. "I'm… scared."
He looked up at her then.
Directly.
"You?" he said quietly. "The rowdy Ji-Ah?"
She shook her head, a small, crooked smile breaking through despite herself.
"I'm still rowdy," she said. Then her voice softened. "But I'm frightened now."
The words hung there.
"I feel… alone."
Ha-Joon exhaled, slow and controlled, gaze shifting briefly to the bed, then back to her.
"Grab your pillow," he said. "You'll sleep here tonight."
She froze.
"W-What?" she blurted, panic spilling out in a rush. "No—no, it's okay, really, I can go back to my room, I swear I won't—"
"Don't argue." he added calmly, already turning away as if the matter were settled.
She blinked.
"…Oh."
Her shoulders dropped. "That's… that's still not necessary, sir."
"It is," he replied, tone final but not harsh.
She nodded, a little too fast. "Okay. Yes. I mean—fine."
Then, realizing she was still standing there like a statue, she spun around and hurried out.
"I'll just—get my pillow," she muttered, disappearing down the hallway.
Ha-Joon watched the door close.
Then glanced once more at the laptop on his desk.
His expression darkened—not with fear.
With intent.
Ji-Ah returned a few minutes later, clutching her pillow to her chest like a shield.
She pushed the door open quietly and stepped inside, closing it behind her with care.
Ha-Joon sat on the edge of the bed, laptop balanced on his thigh, eyes fixed on the screen.
The room was dim, lit only by the desk lamp and the faint glow from outside.
His hair was slightly tousled, pajama shirt loose at the collar—still controlled, still composed, but… different.
"You're here," he said without looking up.
She nodded, then hesitated. "…Yes."
"Lie down."
She opened her mouth. "But—"
He glanced at her.
Just once.
Sharp enough to end the argument before it began.
She sighed internally and moved to the far side of the bed, laying down carefully, placing the pillow under her head like she was afraid it might make noise.
"Don't snore," he added flatly.
She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. "I won't."
The laptop closed with a soft click.
He set it aside, then lay back, hands folded over his stomach, staring up at the ceiling.
"Good night," she murmured.
For the first time since reading that email, her chest loosened slightly.
His presence—quiet, steady—made the fear retreat just enough to breathe.
This Ha-Joon wasn't the cold, tyrant boss from her first day.
He was still unreadable. Still distant. Still sharp.
But his tone was softer now.
Calm.
And strangely… reassuring.
Ji-Ah shifted slightly under the covers, eyes slowly closing.
For tonight, at least—
She didn't feel alone.
--
Morning light came far too fast.
Ji-Ah woke up mid-stretch, one leg half tangled in the blanket, hair doing whatever it wanted—sticking up, flattened on one side, completely unapologetic.
She blinked.
Same room.
Same bed.
Oh. Right.
She turned slowly to the side.
Ha-Joon was already up.
Fully dressed for work—black trousers, crisp white shirt, sleeves buttoned, hair neat and perfectly in place.
His watch glinted softly as he adjusted it, tablet in one hand, eyes focused, posture straight like he'd been awake for hours.
The contrast hit her hard.
I look like a failed mop, she thought.
"…Good morning," she greeted, voice a little rough from sleep.
He didn't look at her. Just gave a short nod. "Morning."
She rolled her eyes slightly—of course.
Ji-Ah sat up, grabbed her pillow, and stood. She bowed slowly, deliberately dramatic.
"Thank you so much, sir," she said sincerely. "For… last night."
He finally glanced at her.
Just once.
Then, calmly, like it was the most normal rule in the world, he said, "Anytime you feel scared—you can come here."
She froze.
"Oh." Her brain stalled. "…Okay."
She nodded quickly, smiling awkwardly, cheeks warming just a little. "Yes, sir."
Then she turned and walked out, clutching her pillow like it had suddenly become very important.
Behind her, Ha-Joon watched the door close.
His expression didn't change.
But his grip on the tablet tightened—just slightly.