The night was suffocatingly dark—no stars, no moon, only the weak flicker of streetlights lining the empty road. Ga-young walked aimlessly, the chill biting at her skin, but her thoughts burned with one face—Min-jae.
He hid his wounds behind a mask of indifference, but she had seen through him. She knew his pain, his silent battles with his father. And now she wished she hadn't—because knowing him this deeply only made the ache sharper.
Then—
BAM!
She crashed to the ground, her palms scraping against the pavement.
"Are you okay?" a voice asked, familiar and unwelcome.
Her head snapped up, and her stomach twisted. Seok-min.
She scrambled to her feet, brushing herself off, her face flushed—not with joy but with embarrassment and something darker: disappointment.
"Ga-young?" His voice was edged with irritation, not surprise.
"I'm sorry," she muttered softly.
But he turned away, uninterested.
"Wait!" she called after him. "Can we talk? Please."
"I'm not interested in anything you have to say," he replied coldly.
"Just a minute. You don't have to talk back, just… listen."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "Listen to what? 'Sorry I ruined your friendship'? Or maybe, 'Sorry for trying to destroy your friends life'?"
Her silence was answer enough.
He sneered. "Ga-young, if you're really sorry, do me the honor of staying far away from me. Your face alone disgusts me, so please stay away from me."
And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing until only silence remained.
Ga-young stood frozen in the middle of the road long after Seok-min's footsteps disappeared into the night. The silence he left behind pressed heavier than any insult could. Her throat burned, lips trembling, until a jagged sob ripped out, raw and uncontrollable.
She sank to the ground where she had fallen earlier, her scraped palms stinging—but the pain in her chest made it feel like nothing. Curling into herself, she buried her face against her knees. The streetlight above her flickered, buzzing like it too was about to abandon her. Her cries echoed into the emptiness, so sharp, so desperate, that even she flinched at the sound of her own voice.
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" The words fell out in whispers, scattered into the night. But no matter how many times she repeated them, they rang hollow. Sorry couldn't mend what she had tempered with, couldn't erase mistakes, couldn't silence the replay of Seok-min's disgust etched in her mind.
So she stayed. The world slipped into a silence so deep it felt eternal. Hours bled into each other until dawn crept across the horizon, painting the sky faint pink. Still, Ga-young remained curled on the cold pavement—exhausted, broken, terrified this was all she had become.
From the dim morning light, a familiar figure materialized—her mother. Arms folded, head tilted with quiet disappointment, she asked, "What happened this time? Did you get your heart broken?"
Ga-young lifted her head, her face pale, eyes hollow. "Good morning, Mother," she murmured before pushing herself up. "I'll be late for work." She brushed past the figure without another glance.
Mrs. Choi ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "She's just like her father—locking everything inside."
---
Moments later, Ga-young arrived at K&H Company. She sank into her chair, her thoughts replaying the night before like a broken record. She never imagined things would escalate so quickly, and the weight of it pressed heavily on her chest. Before she knew it, her eyes shut, exhaustion dragging her into unconsciousness.
When Min-jae walked into the office, he spotted her instantly. Her head rested awkwardly on her desk, her pen still loosely in her hand. Instead of waking her, he paused, his gaze softening in a way that betrayed more than simple concern.
"She must've worked all night again," he muttered, shaking his head as he turned to his own desk. He began flipping through documents, trying to ignore the strange pull of worry that gnawed at him.
Minutes passed. Then an hour. Two. By the fifth hour, an unease he could no longer dismiss coiled in his chest. He rose and walked to her desk, leaning down slightly.
"Ga-young?" he said softly, tapping the table beside her. No response.
His jaw tightened. He reached out and brushed his palm against her skin—and froze. Heat surged against his touch, burning him with its intensity. To be sure, he pressed his hand to her forehead.
She was burning up.
"Ga-young!" His voice cracked with urgency, but she remained limp, lost in fevered unconsciousness.
In an instant, Min-jae scooped her into his arms. His normally composed face was stripped of its stoic mask, replaced by alarm.
"Mr. Min?" His bodyguard stared, stunned, as the boss he had always known for his unshakable composure now carried a woman like the world itself might shatter.
"Get the car ready—now! She's burning up," Min-jae barked, his voice sharp with fear.
The office fell into stunned silence, employees stopping mid-task to stare. The Min-jae they knew—cold, untouchable, ruthless—was rattled, desperate. Ji-hye came rushing toward him, her eyes wide.
"Oh my God!" she gasped, covering her mouth.
"We're going to the hospital. She doesn't have time," Min-jae said quickly, already moving.
Ji-hye nodded frantically, falling into step beside him.
---
Hours later, Min-jae and Ji-hye stood by Ga-young's hospital bed, watching the slow drip of the IV. Her face was pale, strands of damp hair clinging to her temple.
When the doctor entered, his smile was reassuring. "She's going to be fine," he said calmly. "It's a high fever. From our observations, her body shut down temporarily due to stress and exhaustion. She must have been pushing herself too hard."
Ji-hye stumbled back, relief and guilt crashing into her at once.
"Thankfully, you brought her in early. If you hadn't…" the doctor trailed off, then smiled again. "It could have been worse. But she'll recover with rest." He gave instructions to the nurse before leaving.
The room fell quiet.
Min-jae lowered himself into the chair beside her bed. For the first time, the man who commanded boardrooms and struck fear into competitors seemed small, almost fragile. His hand hovered uncertainly before finally resting gently over hers.
"You really scared me today," he whispered, his voice rough. "How can someone be so careless with themselves?"
Ji-hye watched silently from the corner, her chest tightening. "Why does she do this to herself?"
As the steady rhythm of the heart monitor filled the silence, Ga-young's lips parted. Her voice was hoarse, almost inaudible, but the words slipped out.
"…I'm… Sorry."
Min-jae's breath hitched. His grip on her hand tightened.
"You don't have to apologize," he murmured, leaning closer. For the first time in years, the steel walls around him cracked.
"Ga-young! Thank God—you scared us half to death!" Ji-hye's voice cracked, trembling with relief and frustration. She clutched her friend's hand tightly, tears brimming in her eyes. "Do you even realize what you put us through?"
Ga-young blinked, her vision hazy as she shifted her gaze between Ji-hye's tear-streaked face and Min-jae's pale, exhausted one. Her throat felt like sandpaper, but she managed to whisper, "…Ji-hye?"
"Yes, it's me!" Ji-hye sniffled, brushing damp strands of hair away from Ga-young's clammy forehead. "You're safe now, okay? The doctor said it's just exhaustion and stress. But don't you ever—" her voice broke, "—do this to me again."
Before Ga-young could respond, Ji-hye bent down and hugged her carefully, mindful of the IV. "I thought I was going to lose you," she whispered fiercely.
Ga-young let out a weak chuckle, her lips curving into the faintest smile. "Aren't you overreacting just a little?"
Ji-hye pulled back, glaring through misty eyes. "Overreacting? Hey! Do you know how terrified I was? You went limp like a ragdoll in the office—my heart nearly stopped!"
"I'm sorry," Ga-young said, her tone playfully light despite her frailty, as if teasing Ji-hye was the only way she knew how to ease her friend's panic.
Min-jae stared at her before he spoke. His voice was calm, but it carried an edge that demanded attention. "Are you feeling any better now?"
Ga-young turned to him "I am. Thank you… and I'm sorry for putting you through so much."
His eyes narrowed slightly, not with anger but with a sternness that was uniquely his. "If you knew you weren't feeling well, you should've stayed home."
"I didn't know I was going to collapse," she replied sincerely.
Silence lingered for a heartbeat. Min-jae let out a long sigh, his features easing though his eyes still lingered on her with unspoken worry. "Thankfully you're awake now. Just focus on resting." He stood, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve, the gesture sharp, practiced, and deliberate—like he was trying to mask the turmoil beneath.
"Where are you going?" Ji-hye asked curiously, watching him.
"I need to settle matters at the office," he replied evenly, though his hand lingered on the bedrail for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. His gaze flicked to Ga-young once more before he turned to leave.
Ji-hye nodded slowly, though her eyes narrowed with curiosity.
As the door clicked shut behind him, the room grew still. Ga-young let out a quiet breath, her expression unreadable. Ji-hye, however, caught the subtle flicker in her friend's eyes—the kind of look someone wears when they're holding onto something they don't want to say out loud.
"Don't even start," Ga-young muttered, turning her head away.
Ji-hye smirked faintly, her tears finally drying. "Who said anything? I just know a certain someone couldn't hide how much he cares… not even if he tried."
Ga-young groaned, pulling the blanket over her face. "Ji-hye, please."
But her heart thudded just a little too fast for her to sleep again.