Jiwoo sat curled up on her beige sofa, the warm glow of fairy lights softening the edges of her cozy, aesthetic apartment. At twenty-eight, she was the kind of woman whose beauty seemed almost effortless—even now, with her hair tied up in a messy bun, strands falling loose against her cheeks. Yet the exhaustion in her eyes betrayed her. She let out a sharp, frustrated sigh and tossed her phone onto the table.
"Why does it always feel like I'm running on empty…" she muttered under her breath.
Her phone buzzed again. The screen lit up with a short message.
Lunch today. Same spot. – Jungwoo
Her lips curved into the faintest smile despite her weariness. No matter how much the world drained her, her brother's words always pulled her back.
Café
The café was tucked away from the busy streets, a place only the two of them knew well. Its walls were lined with bookshelves, and the faint hum of jazz filled the space along with the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans. Jiwoo traced her finger along the rim of her cup, lost for a moment in the ordinary calmness she rarely had.
Jungwoo arrived quietly, his presence as commanding as ever despite the casual setting. He slid into the seat across from her, removing his coat and setting it neatly beside him. The sharpness in his suit contrasted with the warmth of the café, as though he didn't quite belong in such a mundane place.
Jiwoo smiled faintly. "You're late."
Jungwoo smirked, his eyes glinting. "Traffic. And you know I don't blend in with normal schedules."
"Still hiding behind excuses, huh?" she teased, lifting her cup to take a sip.
"Still nagging like a sister," he countered smoothly, his tone soft but edged with familiarity. For a fleeting second, the heaviness of their lives seemed lighter, almost like they were ordinary siblings meeting for coffee.
But Jungwoo's gaze lingered on her face, sharper now, noticing the faint shadows under her eyes and the way her shoulders slumped despite her polished appearance. His fingers tapped lightly against the table, betraying a thought he was holding back.
"You look tired," he finally said, his voice low, almost cautious. "Is the company overworking you again?"
Jiwoo chuckled softly, stirring her latte with a silver spoon. "Same old. Dance practice, vocal lessons, rehearsals that never end. We've got a concert coming up… so, no breaks for me."
The corner of Jungwoo's jaw tightened as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Jiwoo, you should slow down. Take care of yourself. The stage isn't worth your health."
Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. "This is what I signed up for, oppa. It's my choice. I can't back down now, not when people are counting on me."
His lips pressed into a thin line, and though he didn't argue, the silence that followed was heavy. For all his power in the world outside, here he was just an older brother, unable to protect her from the life she had chosen. And Jiwoo, though she smiled, could feel the weight of his silence—something unsaid, something darker—hanging between them.
Dance Studio
Music pounded in the studio, bodies moving in perfect synchronization. Jiwoo halted, her gaze drawn toward the faint outline of a figure by the door.
"Keep practicing," she told her backup dancers, voice steady despite her pulse quickening.
She stepped out into the hallway, but it was empty—nothing but echoes and flickering lights. Confused, she returned to the studio, shaking off the unease.
Jiwoo's Apartment
The soft click of her door closing behind her was met with an unfamiliar sight—someone was sitting on her couch. A man.
Her scream tore out before she could stop it, but in an instant, the stranger rushed forward, clapping his hand over her mouth.
"Don't scream," his voice was firm but not cruel.
Her eyes widened. "Who the hell are you?"
"Joonhyuk," he replied. "Your brother hired me… to keep you safe."
Jiwoo froze. "A bodyguard? Why? From what?"
But Joonhyuk's face revealed nothing. He stayed silent, bound by a promise.
Later That Night
The room was quiet, save for the ticking of the clock. Jiwoo sat on the edge of the couch, her arms folded, her eyes sharp on the man across from her.
"Why were you hired?" she asked firmly.
Joonhyuk leaned back in the chair, his expression unreadable. "You should rest. You've had a long day. Stress isn't good for an idol."
Her brows furrowed. "Don't change the subject. I'm asking you—why are you here?"
He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Do you always interrogate people this way? Maybe you should focus on your upcoming concert instead of me."
Jiwoo narrowed her eyes, her frustration rising. "Don't play games. You suddenly show up in my house, claiming my brother sent you, and expect me not to ask questions? Why. Were. You. Hired?"
Joonhyuk's gaze flicked toward the window, as if avoiding her eyes. "It's late. You should eat something before sleeping."
Her hands tightened into fists on her lap. "Stop dodging me! You think I won't notice you avoiding every single answer? Tell me the truth."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You really don't give up, do you? Persistent like your brother."
"That's not an answer," she shot back. Her voice softened slightly, almost pleading now. "Joonhyuk… what are you protecting me from?"
For the first time, his jaw tightened. Silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating. His fingers drummed once against his knee before stilling.
Finally, his voice dropped, laced with irritation and something darker."Your brother didn't allow me to tell you… not even my own soul."
Jiwoo froze, her chest tightening at the weight of his words. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, only the echo of the unspoken truth between them.
Jungwoo's Office
The dim office smelled of smoke and leather. Jungwoo's voice was low as he spoke into his phone.
"Keep digging. I want everything—no matter how deep it's buried."
"Yes, sir," came the voice on the other end.
He hung up, then summoned his security team. They stood before him, silent and disciplined.
"Watch every inch of Jiwoo. Stay alert at all times."
"Yes, sir!" they shouted in unison before filing out.
Jungwoo leaned back in his chair, a storm brewing behind his calm expression.
Jiwoo's Apartment, Morning
The soft morning light spilled across Jiwoo's apartment. She blinked awake and noticed Joonhyuk asleep on the chair beside her. His jacket was draped carelessly nearby.
Something shiny caught her eye. A badge.
She picked it up slowly, whispering to herself, "National Intelligence Service…? Why would an idol need a spy as a bodyguard?"
Before she could place it back, Joonhyuk stirred. In a flash, his hand closed around her wrist, pulling her close. Their faces were inches apart, their breath mingling.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The air thickened between them.
Jiwoo quickly cleared her throat and stepped back. "I… I have dance practice." She hurried out, leaving him staring after her.
Flashback
Jiwoo sitting in her dance studio and lost in thoughts.
Jiwoo as a child, peeking from behind a doorway. Her parents stood in the living room, voices sharp with urgency.
"They deserve to know," her mother whispered. "We can't keep hiding the truth."
Her father shook his head firmly. "No. The less they know, the safer they'll be."
Jiwoo's small fingers gripped the door frame tighter, a chill crawling up her spine.
Jiwoo's Confrontation
Back in her apartment, Jiwoo stood before Joonhyuk, her expression fierce.
"I saw your badge. Are you NIS? Why are you really here?"
Joonhyuk's jaw tightened. "Your brother requested protection. There are people after you… and your family."
Her voice cracked with anger. "What the hell are you saying?"
He hesitated, then broke the silence, each word heavy. "Your family… isn't who you think they are."
Jiwoo's eyes burned. "Who are you to say things like that about my family?"
Calmly, he replied, "You'll know the truth. Very soon."
The Parcel
The doorbell rang. Jiwoo opened the door to find a delivery rider, face hidden beneath a helmet.
"I didn't order—" she began, but he shoved the parcel into her hands and ran off.
Frowning, she carried it inside and tore it open. A photograph slipped out. Her parents. And beside them… an unfamiliar man.
On the back, scrawled words in black ink:
Ask your brother about Project Crimson.
Jiwoo's grip on the photo tightened, her heart pounding. She whispered to herself, voice trembling yet resolute:
"Project… Crimson?"
To Be Continued....