The heavy oak doors of the private dining room clicked shut, sealing away the panicked screams of the Choi family.
The hallway was quiet.
Lee Ji-eun walked perfectly straight, her chin high, her heels clicking on the marble floor with the rhythm of a conqueror. She didn't look back. She marched toward the service elevator, radiating ice-cold composure.
Jin-woo followed a step behind, carrying her portfolio.
They stepped into the elevator. The doors slid closed, cutting them off from the world.
Ding.
The moment the lock engaged, the strings holding Ji-eun together snapped.
Her knees buckled.
She didn't make a sound, but she crumpled downward, the adrenaline crash hitting her like a physical blow.
Jin-woo moved instantly. He dropped the portfolio and caught her by the elbow and waist before she hit the floor.
"Steady," he murmured.
Ji-eun gasped, clutching the lapels of his vest. Her hands were shaking violently. The "Empress" who had just slapped a billionaire with a check was gone; in her place was a terrified twenty-one-year-old girl who realized she had just burned her entire life down.
"I did it," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I actually did it. My father looked... he looked like he was going to die."
"He won't die," Jin-woo said, easily supporting her weight. He moved her so she was leaning against the wall, but he didn't let go of her arm. "He's just calculating his new reality."
Ji-eun looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and wet, though she refused to cry. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, hiding her face.
"Don't move," she muffled into his shirt. "Just... let me stand here for ten seconds. That's an order."
Jin-woo stood still. He felt the tremors running through her body.
"Take your time," he said softly. "The war is over for tonight."
[ 8:15 PM - A Street Tent (Pojangmacha) in Mapo-gu ]
It was a place the "Lee Ji-eun" of yesterday would never have visited.
A plastic tent on the side of the street. Orange tarps, cheap plastic stools, and the smell of spicy fish cakes and charcoal.
Ji-eun sat on a red plastic stool, still wearing her 5-million-won Midnight suit. She looked absurdly out of place, like a diamond sitting in a sandbox.
Jin-woo sat opposite her, pouring clear Soju into two shot glasses.
"Drink," he said.
Ji-eun picked up the glass. She didn't sip it politely. She downed it in one go. Gulp.
She exhaled sharply. "Wah. That tastes like nail polish remover."
"It's the taste of freedom," Jin-woo said, pouring her another.
Ji-eun stared at the bottle. The alcohol was hitting her empty stomach fast. Her cheeks were already dusting pink. The sharp angles of her face softened.
"Hey, Boss," she said, poking a spicy rice cake with a toothpick. She missed twice before spearing it. "Did you trip him on purpose? Min-seok?"
Jin-woo took a sip of his own drink. "He was going to touch you. I removed the variable."
Ji-eun paused. She looked at him—really looked at him. The cold, calculating boy who treated the world like a spreadsheet had stepped in to protect her physically.
A slow, silly smile spread across her face.
"You removed the variable," she giggled. "You poured ice water on his crotch! He squealed like a pig!"
She laughed. It wasn't the polite, hidden laugh of a Chaebol daughter. It was a loud, snorting laugh.
She scooted her plastic stool closer to his. Scrape. She moved it again. Scrape. Now their knees were touching under the flimsy table.
She leaned her chin on her hand, staring at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes.
"You know," she slurred slightly, "you act so tough. 'I am the Predator.' 'I am the CEO.' But you're just a kid."
Jin-woo continued eating his fish cake, ignoring her. "I'm your employer. Drink your water."
Ji-eun pouted. She reached out and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.
"Look at you, nagging me. Put on a coat. Drink water. Kill the Choi family."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper.
"You act just like an old man. Should I call you Oppa?"
Jin-woo choked on his water.
He coughed, putting the glass down hard. He glared at her, but there was no heat in it.
"Don't call me that," he warned.
"Why not?" Ji-eun grinned, delighted by his reaction. She poked his arm again. "You protected me. You paid my debt. You bought me clothes. That's what an Oppa does. Right, Jin?"
Jin.
The shortened name hung in the air. It was intimate. Too intimate.
Jin-woo looked at her. Her eyes were sparkling, free of the shadow that had haunted her when they first met. She was drunk, she was messy, and she was happy.
He sighed, resigning himself to his fate.
[ System Notification: Host is engaging in intimate bonding. ][ Loyalty increased to 95%. ][ Warning: Host's heart rate is elevated. ]
Shut up, Jin-woo thought at the System.
"Call me whatever you want," Jin-woo said, standing up. "But we're leaving. You're drunk."
"I'm not drunk!" she protested, standing up and immediately swaying.
Jin-woo caught her again. This time, she didn't pull away. She wrapped both arms around his arm, hugging it to her chest like a lifeline.
"Don't let go," she mumbled, burying her face in his sleeve again. "The ground is spinning."
"I've got you," Jin-woo said.
[ 9:30 PM - The Conrad Hotel ]
He couldn't take her home. Her parents were likely still in a state of shock, and he didn't trust them not to yell at her.
He booked a suite at the Conrad. He walked her to the door.
"Sleep," Jin-woo ordered, guiding her to the bed. "We have work tomorrow."
Ji-eun sat on the edge of the massive bed. She kicked off her heels. She looked small in the large room.
She reached out and grabbed his hand as he turned to leave.
"Jin?"
He stopped. "What?"
"Thank you," she whispered. Her eyes were closing, the adrenaline finally fading into sleep. "For saving me."
"I didn't save you," Jin-woo said automatically, the same line he told everyone. "I invested in you."
"Liar," she murmured, smiling.
She let go of his hand and fell back onto the pillows, asleep in seconds.
Jin-woo stood there for a moment, watching her breathe.
He turned off the main light, leaving only the hallway lamp on. He didn't leave immediately. He sat in the armchair by the window, watching the city lights of Seoul below.
He pulled out his phone. He checked the bank account for Apex Investment.
The Short Squeeze on Myung-il Construction was still printing money. The initial 4.2 billion won loss was gone. The current balance sat at 12 Billion Won.
He had the money. He had the Face.
Now, he had to secure the heart.
He looked at the date on his phone. Tomorrow is Wednesday.
It was visiting day for the specialists at the hospital.
He needed to go. But he couldn't take a bus. Not as the Chairman of Apex.
He looked at the sleeping Ji-eun.
I guess my driver is sleeping, he thought.
He closed his eyes. For the first time since his rebirth, he slept without nightmares.