Just before she could clock out, a short message popped up on Celeste's phone.
[N] 16:50 Skip the 15th floor today. Go straight to B2. Let's get some air.
She looked at it for a beat, then flipped the phone over on her desk, the faintest curl tugging at her lips.
B2, basement parking.
The moment the elevator doors slid open, the passenger side of a black SUV eased out toward her.
"Right on time,"
Noah said from behind the wheel, a half-smile in his voice.
"Get in. Tonight, you're being kidnapped."
She tightened her grip on her coat as she walked over.
"I was planning on working late in the chairwoman's office."
"Exactly why I'm here."
They drove in easy silence, the road curling upward along Skyway.
October air slid in through the cracked windows; leaves whispered past, and the city below began to scatter its lights across the dark.
"Seoul looks… different from up here," she said.
"It's the October color,"
he replied without looking over.
"Only lasts a few weeks. Figured you should see it before it's gone."
They pulled into a quiet overlook near the viewing point, the whole city spilling out below them in a sea of light.
Noah popped the trunk, came back with a small insulated bag—two brown paper sacks and a round thermos.
"Burgers, before you complain you're starving."
He opened her door and passed one over.
"And hot cocoa."
Through the windshield, the city shimmered.
Celeste unwrapped the burger carefully.
"You… do this kind of thing often?"
"No."
He took a slow sip of cola.
"If it's not you, why would I bother? Brought you here cause I wanted you to see this."
The warmth of fries and cocoa filled the car, mingling with the cool, clean air from the open window.
Outside, Seoul's lights drifted like a quiet tide.
"Funny…" she murmured.
"Things like this… I feel like I'll remember for a long time. Even if they're nothing special."
"That's why I'm keeping proof."
From his jacket, he pulled a Polaroid camera.
"The smaller the moment, the faster it disappears."
Click.
The shutter snapped, soft and final.
"Gonna put that on the fridge again?" she teased.
"No."
He studied the shot for a moment.
"This one stays in my desk drawer. Only for me."
She smiled, set her drink down, and leaned over—pressing a quick, feather-light kiss to his cheek.
He stilled.
Then slowly turned to her, lifting a hand to her face.
Their eyes met—and he kissed her back.
Longer.
Slower.
Certain.
The air, the lights, the space between them—gone.
For that moment, it was just them.
When he finally drew back, his voice was low, almost to himself.
"…Guess I've wanted this since the very first time I saw you."
A quiet breath.
"It's been a long way back."
Then he leaned in again—this time without pause, without restraint.
No lines, no rules—just the need to hold her exactly as she was, here and now.