The rain began at exactly 9:17 a.m.
Not in the forecast.
Not in the models.
Not in any version of reality that the Korea Meteorological Strategy Bureau was supposed to protect.
The office screens pulsed red.
[ALERT: LOCALIZED RAINFALL — MAPO DISTRICT]
[CAUSE: UNKNOWN]
[RISK: ESCALATION]
People swarmed like startled birds—running, calling, pointing at monitors.
"Is the satellite feed broken?"
"Why is the cloud density forming that fast?"
"Someone call the director—now!"
At the end of the row, in the seat everyone forgot existed, Han Seo-yeon kept her eyes lowered and her breathing steady.
She did not look like the kind of girl who could break the sky.
Oversized glasses.
A plain cardigan.
A cheap canvas tote bag with a tiny stain on the side.
A nobody.
That was the point.
If anyone knew the truth—that she was the only daughter of Han Climate Group, raised in a home with chandeliers and silent servants—they would never stop watching her.
And if they watched her…
They might notice the weather listened when her heart spoke.
Seo-yeon's fingers hovered above the keyboard. Trembling.
She pressed her thumb lightly into her palm under the desk.
Don't panic.
Don't shake.
Don't feel too much.
Because fear had a sound.
And the sky heard it.
Five years ago, in July, she had panicked once.
And snow had fallen like judgment.
It had covered streets that should've been warm.
It had frozen breath inside lungs.
It had taken a life.
A name still burned behind her ribs.
Kang Ji-eun.
Seo-yeon swallowed hard, her throat tightening the way it always did when guilt climbed up her spine like cold hands.
Across the room, her supervisor—Director Ma—slammed a folder onto a desk.
"Han Seo-yeon! Intern Han!"
Seo-yeon rose instantly. Too fast. Too obedient. Too trained.
"Yes, Director."
"Pull the regional climate projection and cross-check the anomaly. Now."
"Yes."
Her voice sounded calm.
But her heart was not.
Because this rain wasn't just rain.
It was a warning.
Seo-yeon tapped commands quickly, eyes scanning the data. A localized system forming out of nowhere—like emotion turning into weather.
A ridiculous thought for anyone else.
For her, it was a memory.
She focused on the numbers like a prayer.
Outside the building, the glass walls blurred under the sudden downpour.
A black sedan rolled to a stop across the street.
The door opened.
A man stepped out.
He didn't hesitate, even when rain slapped his shoulders like an accusation.
Kang Jae-hyun.
Undercover investigator.
Cold reputation.
Eyes like a storm that had decided never to end.
He looked up at the sky as if it owed him answers.
Because summer had once betrayed him.
Because five years ago, when the world should've been warm, the sky had turned murderous.
And his sister had died in snow.
Jae-hyun's jaw clenched as he crossed the street.
He didn't believe in fate.
He believed in causes.
And punishment.
He entered the building, rain dripping from his hair onto the polished floor, ignoring the stares.
The security desk scrambled. "Sir—your appointment—"
Jae-hyun flashed an ID and kept walking.
Inside, Seo-yeon felt something shift.
Not the office air.
Not the temperature.
Something inside her.
A sharp, stupid pull.
Like the first note of a song she used to love and thought she'd forgotten.
She turned without meaning to.
And saw him through the glass.
Her breath stopped.
For a heartbeat, everything inside her went five years back—
A university festival at sunset.
Warm air. Bright lights.
A boy laughing softly while helping his sister carry something heavy.
She had only seen him for moments back then.
But she had remembered his face.
A harmless crush.
A fleeting warmth.
She hadn't even learned his name.
Why… is he here?
Seo-yeon's pulse jumped.
Outside, thunder rolled.
The lights flickered.
Director Ma snapped, "Don't just stand there, Intern Han!"
Seo-yeon forced her gaze back to the monitor.
"Y-Yes."
Her fingers trembled again.
Jae-hyun walked past the glass doors.
And as he stepped inside, the rain outside intensified—like the sky recognized him.
He stopped mid-stride, looking at the storm through the window.
Then, slowly, he looked inward.
Toward the rows of desks.
Toward the people.
Toward the quiet girl in glasses whose hands were too tense for someone who was "just an intern."
His gaze landed on her.
Seo-yeon's heart skipped.
And the temperature in the room dropped by a degree.
Jae-hyun's eyes narrowed.
Not because he thought she was pretty.
Not because he felt anything warm.
But because his instincts whispered something sharp:
That girl is connected to this.
Seo-yeon lowered her head quickly.
She could not let him see her.
She could not let herself feel.
Because if her emotions rose—
The sky would answer.
And this time, Seoul wouldn't forgive her.
"If you enjoyed this chapter, please support with Power Stones ❤️"