Rain drizzled lightly over the city. From the rooftop, the skyline glowed in the distance as a sleek black car rolled to a stop. Kang Jungho stepped out in a tailored suit, looking like a man who owned every floor beneath him. He walked toward the edge. The wind pushed against his coat. He placed one hand in his pocket, the other adjusting his glasses. He wasn't about to jump, but his stillness made it look like he might.
"You shouldn't stand that close to the edge, you know." Her voice came from behind, casual.
He turned sharply. Near the stairwell entrance, a girl sat on the ground, legs crossed, eating tteokbokki from a cheap paper tray. She wore a loose hoodie, glasses slightly crooked, hair in a lazy bun. She lifted a rice cake with her chopsticks and gestured lazily toward him. "You either look like someone about to jump… or someone pretending to think deep thoughts so he doesn't have to go home."
"I don't recall asking for commentary," Jungho said coldly.
"Neither did the edge of this rooftop. But here we are." She grinned and kept chewing.
Jungho stared at her, dead serious, silent. She held up her tray. "Tteokbokki? It's still warm."
"…No." His answer was flat.
"You don't eat street food? Are you one of those?" She gasped, teasing.
"One of what?" he asked, still cold.
"You know. Rich. Moody. Probably has a bathroom bigger than my entire apartment. Can't handle carbs without a license." Her tone was playful, fearless.
Jungho almost smirked. Almost. "You don't seem particularly cautious around strangers."
"That's because I'm not," she said easily, then stood, wiping her hands with a napkin and grabbing her bag. "Anyway. I'll leave you to your… rooftop brooding. But don't actually jump, okay?"
"Why not?" Jungho's voice was dry.
"Because if you did, I'd have to explain to the cops that I offered you tteokbokki and somehow pushed you off a building. That's not the legacy I want." She turned and walked away.
Jungho watched her descend the stairs, blinking once. What just happened?
The next morning, Kang Corporation's executive floor buzzed with quiet chaos. Inside his office, Jungho sat at his desk, focused on digital reports. His glasses caught the light. Perfect. Controlled. Unbothered.
"Sir, the new PR crisis exec is here. Im Seri. Assigned by the board," Daejin said through the intercom.
"Let her in," Jungho answered without looking up.
The door opened. He glanced up—then froze. Standing at the door was the girl from the rooftop. No hoodie. No glasses. No paper tray. Just clean lines, straight posture, and professional calm.
"Good morning, CEO Kang. I'm Im Seri, Public Relations and Crisis Strategy. Starting today." She bowed politely.
Jungho stared, dead silent. Miss Tteokbokki… is Im Seri?
"We've met," he said.
"Have we?" she asked innocently, head tilted.
"…Last night. Rooftop. Tteokbokki. Hoodie." His voice stayed level.
She blinked once, then smiled faintly. "Ah. So you were the dramatic rooftop guy."
Jungho's jaw tightened. This woman was now his employee. She stepped forward and placed a folder on his desk. "Board says I'm reporting directly to you. Don't worry—I don't bring snacks to work." She turned and walked out. Jungho watched her go. Im Seri. Miss Tteokbokki, apparently. What an irritating coincidence.
Im Seri stepped out of the CEO's office, elegant and calm. She barely made it two steps before a woman slid dramatically into her path. "Hiiii~ You must be the new hire. Im Seri, right?" Kim Bora's smile was too wide to be sincere.
"Yes. That's me." Seri blinked, caught off guard.
"Cute name. You seem… fresh. Like someone who still values her life." Bora's voice dropped into a serious whisper.
"…Should I not?" Seri raised a brow.
"Okay, listen carefully. If you want to survive working here. Especially near him…you have to follow the rules." Bora raised three fingers like she was listing commandments. "Rule one: Don't look CEO Kang in the eye for more than three seconds. Rule two: Don't speak first. Ever. Rule three: If he breathes near you…say thank you."
"You're kidding." Seri stared.
"Does this look like the face of a woman who jokes?!" Bora leaned in, eyes wide.
Seri didn't respond.
"And whatever you do… never, ever correct him. Or breathe too loudly. Or wear perfume. Or trip. Or stand confidently. Basically, don't exist too hard." Bora nodded seriously.
"So I should just… float quietly across the floor like a ghost?" Seri's tone was dry.
"Exactly. Float. Obey. Leave the heart-throbbing to me." Bora laughed and suddenly grabbed Seri's hand. "Welcome to the team~ I'll be watching you."
Seri gently pulled her hand away. This company might actually kill me. But not for the reasons I expected.
Back inside the office, Jungho adjusted his watch behind the marble desk. The room was silent. Daejin stood nearby, delivering a calm report. "She handled her onboarding well. Quiet type. But sharp."
Jungho's phone lit up. DR. LEE – SUNGSAN MEDICAL CENTER. He tapped the speaker without hesitation.
"CEO Kang? This is Dr. Lee from Sungsan Medical. It's regarding…Hanna." The voice on the other end was fast and clipped.
Jungho froze. No breath. No blink. No reaction.
"She—" The doctor's voice faltered.
Click. Jungho ended the call. "Get the car." His voice was sharp.
"Yes, sir." Daejin moved immediately.
Jungho grabbed his coat and strode out. The door swung open hard. Daejin hurried after him.
Across the floor, employees turned. Conversations died. Im Seri glanced up from her desk. She didn't know what just happened. But she felt the shift in the air. That wasn't business.
Kim Bora rushed over, eyes wide. "Where is he going?! Did someone insult his hair?! Did you say something?! YOU TALKED TO HIM!"
"I didn't. And I don't think this is about work." Seri stayed calm.
"Is it love? Is it betrayal?! Does he have a child?! OH MY GOD IS HE SECRETLY MARRIED?!" Bora's voice hit full panic.
"You're asking the wrong person."
"I knew I should've followed him on Instagram." Bora clutched her pearls in despair as the elevator doors closed.
Silence fell. No one knew anything. But the air stayed heavy.
At Sungsan Medical Center, Jungho walked through the automatic doors with Daejin close behind. Nurses at the front desk froze mid-typing. "Oh my god… Is that—?" one whispered.
"It's Kang Jungho. Kang Group CEO. He's even hotter in real life," another nurse whispered giddily.
"Is he married? Should I faint?"
"Shhh! He's walking this way. Don't breathe weird!"
Jungho didn't glance at them. His pace stayed sharp and steady. "Where is she?"
"S–Sung Hanna, correct? Room 12C, VIP wing. Take the lift—" the receptionist started.
"I'll walk." Jungho turned and disappeared down the corridor.
The nurses watched in stunned silence. "Did you see his jawline?! That's the jaw of a man who owns cities," one breathed.
"And his eyes?! That's a man in love or war," the other whispered.
"Or both."
Jungho's footsteps echoed down the long hallway. He stopped in front of a door. Room 12C. His hand hovered at the handle, then slowly turned it. The lights inside were dim. Hanna lay in bed, pale, an IV beside her. Her eyes were closed, her face still and fragile.
"Hanna…?" His voice was quiet.
No response.
"Hanna. Wake up. Hanna, look at me." He stepped closer, his voice rising slightly.
Still nothing. His breath caught. His chest tightened. "You don't get to do this. Not again. Not like this…"
"Pfft." Her eyes fluttered open. She bit her lip.
"HAHAAHAHAHA…Oh my god . Junho, YOUR FACE—!!" She burst out laughing.
"What the…" Jungho blinked.
"You were about to CRY! I saw it!! You looked like someone cancelled your entire existence!" She was breathless from laughing.
"You…You're not…?!"
"Dead? Please. I just fainted from exhaustion. Maybe a little fever. The doctor overreacted. But god, I should win an Oscar for that!" She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "How was my performance? Tragic? Elegant?"
"You're unbelievable," Jungho muttered, finally stepping closer.
"But you came." Her voice was softer now. He said nothing, just lowered himself into the chair beside her. She stopped smiling. "You were scared."
"I was annoyed."
"Same thing for you." She met his eyes.
They stared at each other. Then she tossed a pillow at him, breaking the tension. She leaned back slowly, still pale, but alert. He sat quietly beside her bed, elbows on knees, hands clasped. Silence stretched between them.
"You should stop working yourself to death," Jungho said finally.
"And you should stop acting like you care," Hanna replied.
"What if I do?" His voice was steady.
Her smile faded. "Don't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm tired. And it's easier to pretend… no one is waiting." Jungho didn't answer. She turned her head and looked away. Her voice dropped. "Stay until I fall asleep?"
He sat still for a moment. "Always."