The lights were warm but dim. Cozy. Seri dropped her bag, tossed her blazer on the couch, and walked straight to the fridge. She opened it. "…Empty again." She slammed it shut, annoyed, and plopped herself down on a chair. "Cold one second. Suspicious the next. What's next? A tracking chip under my desk?" She sighed heavily, head thrown back. Silence. Then her stomach growled. She groaned. "I need something spicy before I explode." She grabbed a hoodie and a small sling bag, tying her hair up.
Seri walked alone through a dimly lit street. She was now in a gray hoodie, glasses on, hair messy in a cute way. But her steps were determined. In her hand, a steaming cup of tteokbokki from her favorite stall. Red sauce dripping. Fishcakes and eggs, all in one bite. She munched while walking home, but she was also ranting… to herself. "Oh, Director Kang Jungho, is it? Just because you're tall and rich and stupidly well-dressed—" She chomped another spicy rice cake, her lips red from the gochujang. "You think you can just… laser-beam stare into my soul? You're not the only one with eyes, you know." A beat. "I mean… who just removes their glasses like that? What are you? Superman of Emotional Damage?" She took a breath, the spice hitting her hard. "Note to self… never trust a man with good hair and better suits… they ruin your appetite and your day."
Suddenly, a piece of rice cake slipped from her chopsticks and dropped onto her hoodie. "Seriously—? Even the food's attacking me now?!" She paused. Stopped walking. Looked up at the night sky.
Suddenly, distant shouting. A few dark figures gathered under a flickering streetlamp. A man was cornered. Voices were low, threatening. Movement, aggressive. She rolled her eyes. "Not my problem. Not tonight." She turned to walk away.
People talked too much already. One rooftop fight and suddenly she was Bruce Lee in heels. But…A voice cut through the chaos. Male. Firm. Familiar. Her steps halted mid-stride. She narrowed her eyes, cautiously turned her head, then squinted into the shadows, spicy tteokbokki still in her mouth. Suddenly her eyes went wide. "…Is that—?!" She lowered her cup slowly. "CEO Kang Jungho?!"
She ducked behind a lamppost and peeked again. What in Armani hell was he doing here? In this alley? Past midnight? Is this a… hobby?? She bit her lip, weighing the moment. The situation looked serious. Too serious. Her grip tightened. But her feet were already moving.
The air was thick with tension. Five men stood surrounding Kang Jungho, whose expensive coat contrasted sharply with the dim streetlight and gritty asphalt. Jungho's breathing was calm but shallow. His hand briefly brushed his inner coat pocket. He was armed with instinct, not a weapon.
Then the sound of soft footsteps. He stiffened slightly. Looked up…Im Seri was walking toward them. Hoodie on. Tteokbokki still in one hand. She stopped a few feet away, casual but unreadable. "Wow. I came out for snacks, not street theater." Jungho's jaw clenched. Their eyes met. For a split second, something flashed in his, unease? Worry? He subtly shook his head, a quiet warning. Don't. But it was too late.
The apparent boss of the men, tall, snake tattoo curling out from his collar, turned to Seri. "Back off, girl. This isn't your business." Seri took a slow bite of her tteokbokki. Chewed thoughtfully. "You sure? Because from here, it looks like you're just five grown men arguing with a guy who out-dressed you without trying." Jungho almost smiled, a corner twitch, but quickly suppressed it. "Should I come back later when it's more fair? Like ten against one?" The men shifted uneasily. One of them laughed, unsure if she was joking. Another snapped, "We said back off! This is your last warning!"
Jungho's eyes widened, barely. He stepped forward, low voice only for her. "Im Seri. Go home." She glanced at him. Their stare lingered. But before she could respond— He lifted his hand and yelled, "HEY! Is that a cop drone?" He pointed toward the rooftops. All five gangsters instinctively turned their heads…reflex.
In that split second, Jungho grabbed Seri's wrist tightly. "Run..!" And just like that, they bolted. Their footsteps echoed through the alley.
"HEY! Don't run!" "You're dead if you run!" Shouts filled the air. Fast footsteps followed.
Jungho pulled Seri behind him as they rounded a corner. She stumbled slightly, more out of surprise than fear, her tteokbokki cup flying into the night like a tragic snack casualty. "My tteokbokki!" "Seriously?!" "That was dinner!"
The narrow alley stretched like a trap. They reached the end. Dead end. Jungho slowed down, chest heaving. Seri, right behind him, gasping. "You seriously couldn't just eat your tteokbokki and mind your business?!"
"Excuse me, it was a romantic dinner for one! You're the one who dragged me into this cardio nightmare!"
Before she could finish, one of the thugs reached them and swung a punch. Jungho dodged and blocked, gritting his teeth. A second man lunged. Jungho managed to land a hit, but he was clearly not at 100%. Another punch got through…Jungho took a hit to the jaw.
"Whoa, whoa…did you just let your face get punched?! That's like… the money-making part!" Seri winced as she said it, half-concerned, half-mocking, eyes darting to the bruise forming on his cheek.
Jungho wiped his mouth, eyes blazing. "Run, Seri!" He stepped forward, trying to shield her. But another thug blocked her exit.
"Too late to run, sweetheart. You're already part of this mess." He stepped too close. His hand reached out, grabbing her wrist. "You don't look like much of a fighter—" Bad move.
Crack. In one explosive move, Seri twisted his wrist, kneed his gut, and spun a full elbow into his temple. He dropped like a bag of rice. Silence. Everyone stared. Even Jungho. "You were saying?" "Bro… did she just—"
"All I wanted was tteokbokki and peace…" Seri muttered under her breath, brushing dust off her sleeve as she stepped over a groaning thug, clearly more irritated than shaken.
Jungho was blinking, stunned. He was bleeding slightly, but more baffled than anything. She fought like she was trained. Like it wasn't her first time.Something about her was off… too off. He wasn't sure what unnerved him more…the thugs, or her.
And just like that, the energy had shifted. Seri cracked her knuckles. "Alright, gentlemen. Who's next?" The silence hung. Then, all thugs rushed her. Jungho's eyes widened.
Crack. Elbow to the chin. Whack. Sweep to the legs. Thump. Reverse punch straight to the gut. One by one…they went down like dominoes. Fast. Precise. No wasted movement. Jungho stood frozen. All five men? Down. Groaning. Moaning. Laid flat.
Seri straightened her hoodie, barely winded. She turned to him, brushing a strand of hair off her face. "Still want me to go home?" Jungho didn't answer. He was staring. Not at her. Through her. He was calculating.
That wasn't just kickboxing. That wasn't self-defense. She's not here by accident. And I don't think she's here for a paycheck, either. So what are you, Im Seri? A spy? A shadow? Are you here to protect me… or kill me?
The tension in his eyes tightened as Seri slowly walked toward him. Deliberate. Calm. Almost predator-like. This is it. This is how it ends. Death by hoodie girl. She stepped closer. One foot. Half a foot. An inch. She was right in front of him now. Jungho tensed. His eyes flickered in panic, he flinched slightly, hands ready, as if she might strike— But she just lifted her hand… and gently fixed his crooked glasses.
"If that fight made me drop even one rice cake… I'm billing it to your corporate card." Jungho blinked. She smiled…just a little. Mischievous. His heart? Skipped. What the hell is wrong with me.
They sat side by side on the curb in front of a dimly lit convenience store. A can of coffee in Jungho's hand. A small bottle of water and a box of bandages in Seri's. "If you can't handle gangsters, maybe don't make midnight appointments with them."
"It was supposed to be one man. A client. That's all." "And you believed that?" He shrugged. "…Apparently, they RSVP'd as a group."
She rolled her eyes. Then, without warning, leaned in and pressed the alcohol pad gently to the cut on his cheek. "Yah—!" "Still this stubborn after getting punched?" He froze. "You got jumped, nearly died, and still acting like a spoiled chaebol with a paper cut."
Jungho didn't flinch. He stayed still, letting her tend to the wound without a word, eyes quietly studying her.
"…They were from a company I consulted for. Let's just say… the deal didn't go as planned." His voice was low, edged with something unreadable.
"Did you insult their fashion sense?" Seri raised an eyebrow, her tone dry as she smoothed the bandage onto his cheek with surprising care. Her fingers lingered just a second too long, eyes flicking up to meet his before looking away again. He gave a faint chuckle, but it faded quickly.
A pause. Seri's eyes drifted for a second. To his glasses, slightly tilted on his face. She squinted a little. "You always wear those? Even at night?"
"…Helps with migraines." He answered, adjusting the glasses slightly as if to shield himself, though his tone lacked conviction. His eyes flickered, not quite meeting hers.
"Right. Stylish migraines." She said nothing else. But her glance lingered one second too long.
Jungho felt it…barely a shift, but enough to raise his guard. The way her gaze held, quiet and calculating, not just curious but discerning. Like she didn't fully believe him. Like she'd seen something she wasn't supposed to. He looked away first, fingers brushing the frame of his glasses with subtle unease. She didn't press, but the silence between them had changed. He could feel it. She was sensing something… something not normal. Not yet danger. But recognition. And that was worse.