Chapter 2 The Lion and the Fury
Three years after the night in the elevator
Min-ho drummed his fingers impatiently on the dark wooden table of the small café in Samcheong-dong. He was irritable. Ariadne—this invisible, bestselling author—was driving him to the brink of madness. His informant at the agency had sworn she came here often to write, but so far, he saw nothing but tourists and students.
Suddenly, the bell over the door chimed. A woman walked in. She wore large sunglasses and a simple trench coat. As she sat down at a table in the shadows and flipped open her notebook, Min-ho stopped breathing.
Those fingers. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear with that one unconscious gesture.
It's her.
He forgot about Ariadne. He forgot about business. He stood up, moving as if on autopilot, and sat down at her table without an invitation.
"The table is taken," she muttered in Korean, without looking up.
"It's the only spot left in the shade," he replied in his deepest voice.
She sighed in annoyance and switched to English: "Sir, I am working. Please find another spot."
Min-ho didn't budge. He savored the electric tension in the air.
"C'est incroyable!" she hissed, now in French. "Est-ce que vous comprenez le mot 'privé'?"
She took a deep breath, ready to follow up in German: "Haben Sie keine Manieren?"
In that exact moment, she looked up.
Min-ho slowly removed his sunglasses. A triumphant smile crept onto his face. "Three years, Schätzchen. From now on, I'm only taking the stairs—if you're with me."
Clara felt the blood freeze in her veins. Not him. Anyone but him. "You... you're mistaken," she stammered, hastily grabbing her things. "I don't know you."
"Don't lie to me," he said softly, his eyes burning with intensity. "Who are you? Tell me your name."
Clara panicked. She couldn't be recognized here—not as the woman from the elevator, and certainly not as the famous Ariadne. She needed a mask. Fast.
"Ji-soo," she blurted out. "My name is Ji-soo. And I don't have time for stalkers."
Before he could react, she stood up and bolted out of the café. Min-ho tried to follow, but a group of tourists blocked the exit. By the time he stepped onto the street, she was gone. Again.
Two days later – Min-ho's Office
Min-ho was at the end of his rope. He had his team searching for every "Ji-soo" in the city—a hopeless endeavor in Korea. At the same time, Ariadne's agency blocked every attempt he made to schedule a meeting.
"Mr. Kim!" he barked through the intercom. "If this Ariadne won't talk to me, then bomb her assistant with messages until she finally gives in! I want that script!"
He had no idea that he had just triggered a landslide.
On the other side of town, in a modest office, Clara's real assistant, Suri, sat staring at her phone, tears in her eyes. It wouldn't stop vibrating.
"Clara... please," Suri sobbed. "This Mr. Kim from Min-ho Productions is destroying me. I can't take it anymore. He just won't leave me alone!"
Clara, still trying to process the shock of the encounter at the café, looked at her trembling employee. Anger boiled up inside her. This rich, arrogant prick thought he could bully everyone.
"Enough," Clara said, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I'm handling this personally. Give me the address of this Min-ho."
- Min-ho's Office
Min-ho sat in his glass-walled office on the 40th floor, staring at his calendar. He was irritable. Ariadne—this invisible author—was robbing him of his sleep. He wasn't used to being ignored.
Suddenly, a sound pierced through the soundproof walls. A storm was brewing.
"Écoutez-moi bien! C'est inadmissible!" echoed from outside. Then, a swift shift into Korean: "Tell your boss that if he doesn't stop harassing my assistant immediately, I will sue him for coercion!"
Min-ho caught his breath. That voice. That melodic cadence. A shiver ran down his spine. He knew that temperament.
Outside, the thunderstorm culminated in a booming German sentence: "Das ist ja wohl die Höhe! Ich glaube, es hackt!"
Min-ho flung the door open. His assistant, Mr. Kim, was standing there trembling in front of a woman who was practically spitting sparks of rage. Clara stood her ground, arms crossed, her eyes flashing like dark sapphires.
"Ji-soo!" Min-ho exclaimed, a broad, almost disbelieving smile spreading across his face. He completely ignored his traumatized assistant and stepped directly toward her. "I'm beginning to truly love this fate. You're here! I thought I'd lost you—there are simply too many Ji-soos in this city."
Clara stared at him. Her mouth hung open slightly. The elevator man. The café stalker. He was the ruthless producer trampling all over her privacy? It fit his profile all too perfectly.
"You..." she managed to say. "You're the man driving my assistant into a nervous breakdown?"
Min-ho paused, then his features brightened. "You work for Ariadne? You're the bridge to this mysterious woman?" He took a step closer, his gaze softening, almost admiring. "That explains everything. The languages, the intelligence... she sends her best woman to the front lines."
Clara was about to scream at him that she was the front line. But then she saw the look in his eyes—that mixture of professional hunting instinct and private fascination. A dangerous thought flashed through her mind. If she told him who she was now, the business side would destroy everything. But if she remained "Ji-soo"... the little assistant... she could find out if he was really just after the rights, or if the man from the elevator was still in there somewhere.
"Yes," she lied with a stony expression. "I am... her closest confidante. And I am here to tell you to leave Ariadne alone. She hates pushy men."
Min-ho smiled disarmingly. "Then it's a stroke of luck that I only have to deal with you from now on, Ji-soo. Let's say... dinner tonight? To smooth things over? Purely business, of course."
Clara narrowed her eyes. He's good, she thought. "Purely business? Then bring your assistant along."
Min-ho shot Mr. Kim a quick, razor-sharp look that brooked no argument.
"He has... a terrible toothache tonight, unfortunately," Min-ho lied without blinking.
Mr. Kim, who had looked perfectly healthy just a second ago, froze. He saw the warning look from his boss, swallowed hard, and abruptly pressed his hand against his perfectly healthy cheek.
"Oh... ah... yes..." he stammered, nodding vigorously while twisting his face in feigned agony. "It's dreadful, Sir. The throbbing is going straight to my head. I... I must go to the emergency dentist immediately."
Clara raised an eyebrow, but the plan was set.