At the grocery store, Junho stood in front of the apple section, dressed sharp and casual. He picked up a pack of Fuji apples, examining them.
An ahjumma nearby watched, then whispered to her friend. "Aigoo, too handsome to be shopping alone…"
She stepped closer. "Excuse me, young man. Are you single?"
Junho blinked. "Pardon?"
"I have a daughter. Works at a big tech company. Makes three kinds of kimchi."
Junho smiled politely. "That's very generous, ma'am."
"She studied in Canada!" her friend added.
He gave a slight bow. "I already have someone I argue with regularly."
The women gasped, delighted. "Omo! Arguments make couples strong!"
Junho clutched the apple pack and smiled tightly. "Right…"
Finally, they let him go. He exhaled, returning to his shopping but something felt off. A presence. He glanced back. Just regular shoppers. Still, his gut pulled.
"Someone's following me?" he whispered. He turned into another aisle. A mirror at the end reflected someone moving too quickly.
A hoodie. A figure ducking. Junho's eyes narrowed. "Okay… not a fan."
He moved fast through the aisles, his steps picking up speed. Ramen. Freezer section. Then he rounded a corner.
Bump.
The trolley smacked into someone. Junho froze. Junho quickly steadies it, eyes lifting. He looks up.
"…You?" he blinks, startled.
It's Seri. In her usual gray hoodie, sleeves rolled, casual joggers and sneakers. Her bangs frame her face gently. Despite the plain look, she's effortlessly cute. She winces slightly, clutching a box of cereal she nearly dropped.
"You really don't check your corners, do you?" she says, deadpan, stepping closer and peeking into his trolley.
"Four apples, three bananas… and six cans of energy drinks?" she arches an eyebrow.
"That's called variety," Junho answers, defensive but playful.
"Really? Looks more like a fruit salad trying to survive in a caffeine jungle," Seri mutters, squinting at the cart.
"At least I didn't come here in a hoodie like I'm on a spy mission," Junho smirks, raising a brow.
"Spy mission???" Seri's voice lifts in disbelief, but inside her chest, her heart skips. Wait. Does he know? Since day one?
"You didn't have to follow me looking like a spy on a budget thriller shoot ," Junho adds, eyeing her hoodie. "Honestly… were you going for covert ops or cozy dropout?"
Seri frowns, brushing off her hoodie. "Hmm… I was going to meet you tonight. But now…" she waves dramatically, "…I get run over by a trolley, crash into your grocery cart, and somehow I'm the one stalking you?"
"Then explain why someone in a hoodie was following me from the snack section. You're not exactly subtle," Junho replies, folding his arms.
"Well, I'm not exactly craving chocolate today, so why would I stalk you in front of the candy aisle?" she replies, her tone dry.
Seri pauses, her frown deepening. A flicker of suspicion crosses her face.
"Wait. Who exactly did you think was following you?" she asks, glancing behind her. "Strange… I don't see anyone in a hoodie… well, except me."
She scans the aisle one more time. Junho shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking toward the snack section.
"Relax. Finish your grocery run. I'll wait by the entrance," she says, turning to walk away.
"You… wanted to see me? Now? What? Why?" Junho blurts suddenly, his voice straight but panicked. He blinks, processing his own words. Seri sighs, visibly exhausted.
"Just… settle your apples and protein drinks quickly," she says, lifting her cereal box in a lazy wave. "Your fan club's probably watching. Don't keep them waiting."
She walks off, hoodie swaying gently. Junho watches her leave, lips parted like he wants to say something but he doesn't.
"…Why does she always walk away with the last word?" he mutters, staring down at his bananas like they betrayed him.
Seri leans casually by the sliding doors, cereal box cradled in her arms. Her posture is relaxed, but her eyes are alert, scanning the crowd. "Snack aisle… hoodie…" she mutters under her breath.
Meanwhile, Hanna's apartment glistened under the pale daylight, its floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city skyline far below. The storm had passed, yet its aftershock clung to the air like static, and beyond the glass, the clouds were already thickening ,promising rain again soon.
She stood by the glass, silk robe whispering against her skin, phone lighting up in her hand. Another message from Ryun. She didn't open it. Instead, her fingers dialed a number from memory.
One ring. Two.
A man's voice came on the line, casual and alert.
"Lee Junhoon, Seoul Daily. What's up, Miss Han?"
Her lips curved, a smirk faint but deliberate.
"I've got something for you. Exclusive."
"Really?" His tone shifted, intrigued. "Entertainment or scandal?"
She crossed the room toward her vanity, each step measured. Lifting a silver hairbrush, she drew it through her hair with slow, controlled strokes.
"Both."
"You don't usually play this game."
Her voice dropped to a velvet edge.
"This time, I'm not playing. I'm rewriting."
Her hand reached for a photo frame on the vanity, her and Ryun at some glittering award night, smiling as if the world had been theirs. She stared at it for a moment before placing it face down.
"Let's meet," she said. "I'll give you a headline that will rip the mask off a golden boy."
The call ended with a click. Silence stretched.
Then, softly, to herself…
"And remind them who the real queen is."
Hanna stood like a guard in front of the market, arms loose at her sides, eyes scanning the flow of people. A couple of teens in hoodies laughed their way out, sipping iced drinks. A man with earbuds passed by, hood up, lost in his music. Nothing suspicious. Just ordinary faces. Too ordinary.
Still, that prickling in her chest refused to fade. Then, a shadow stretched across the pavement behind her.
"Are you guarding the cereal aisle or interrogating the air?" Junho's voice cuts through.
Seri eyes him slowly, lips curving into a mysterious smile. "Lead the way to your car, Mr. Park," she says softly, teasing.
Junho blinks, confused but intrigued. He turns and heads toward the parking lot. Seri follows, scanning the area discreetly. Her instincts buzz.
They reach his sleek black car. Junho pops the trunk, begins placing his groceries inside. Seri pauses. Her gaze sharpens at the license plate. The screws look recently tampered with. Loosened. Beneath the bumper, half-concealed, is a small square device taped with black strip. It's clean. Unfamiliar. Definitely not factory-made.
"…Junho," Seri says calmly.
"What? Don't tell me you've never seen someone shop like a health nut," Junho grins, tossing in bananas.
"Don't move," Seri says firmly.
She kneels, pulls a nail file from her hoodie. A flick. A nudge. The device drops into her palm. "Someone tagged your car," she says, voice low and serious.
Junho's smile fades. He stares at the black device in her hand. Their eyes meet.
"…So you weren't stalking me," he mutters.
"Still considering it," she replies with a shrug.
"But congratulations, Mr. Kang. You just got upgraded from charming CEO… to someone's target," she adds, holding up the device.
Junho stares at it like it might explode. "…We don't know what that is. Could just be… a weird car alarm add-on," he suggests, uneasy.
"Sure. Because random people tape car alarms under license plates now," she says dryly.
She walks to the driver's side, hand out. "Give me your keys."
"What? No, you don't have to drive. I can—"
"So you'd rather drive yourself while being tracked, chased, and potentially stabbed in a grocery parking lot?" She waits. "Maybe shot in the kneecap. Or blown up at the next red light," she adds.
"Okay—okay! I get it!" Junho exclaims, pale. He fumbles into his pocket and tosses the keys at her.
"You know, you could've just said 'please' like a normal person…"
"Normal people don't get tailed by secret organizations," Seri mutters as she slides into the driver's seat.
Junho opens the passenger side, glancing around like a man entering a spy film. He buckles up cautiously. She throws him a glance, then pulls out smoothly into the road.
The engine hummed quietly as Seri drove with a steady hand, her focus absolute. But her brows had started to knit together. Something about the way the car handled wasn't sitting right.
"You're really not going to tell me where we're going?" Junho glanced at her from the passenger seat, arms folded, trying not to sound uneasy.
Seri leaned slightly forward. Her eyes narrowed at the dashboard. The steering wheel felt stiff. She tapped the brakes lightly once, then again, just to test them. Too soft. Delayed.
"That's weird…" she muttered, mostly to herself.
Junho straightened in his seat. "What?"
"The car's alignment feels off. Did you hit a curb or something? Let a squirrel take the wheel?"
"It was just a grocery run," he said defensively. "And no, there were no squirrels."
She almost smiled but kept her attention forward. Then a soft thud came from beneath the car.
Junho jolted. "That wasn't a squirrel, was it?"
"Shh." Seri's voice dropped low.
She pressed the brakes again. Nothing. No resistance. The car didn't slow.
Seri's expression didn't flinch, but her grip tightened on the wheel. "Brake's unresponsive."
Junho's eyes widened. "What do you mean unresponsive? We're not stopping?"
Seri didn't respond. Her eyes flicked to the side mirror. A black sedan. Following. Close. Too close.