12 YEARS LATER
The bar was bathed in warm, golden light, shadows dancing lazily against the walls. The air reeked of alcohol, thick enough to taste. On the table sat three empty bottles of soju, their green glass glinting faintly, the remains of a plate of Tteokbokki pushed to the side. A lone handbag lay slumped against the leg of the chair like it had given up for the night.
You might have imagined that by now, Ga-young would have blossomed into a confident, magnetic woman who turned heads wherever she went. But reality had been far less kind.
She lifted her head from the table, strands of hair sticking to her cheeks, the faint smear of spicy red Tteokbokki sauce marking the corner of her lips. The dark circles under her eyes told stories of sleepless nights and too many battles lost. The once-bright spark in her brown eyes had dulled to a muted haze, like a dying ember barely holding on.
"Hello, this is Seoul Soju. Your friend here's had a bit too much. Could you come pick her up?"
The words drifted through the air from somewhere above her, soft but far away, as if wrapped in fog. Her vision blurred, the lights blurring into streaks, until darkness claimed her entirely.
---
The next morning, Ga-young's eyes cracked open. The world was too bright, and her head pounded like someone had set a drum inside her skull. Her tongue felt dry, the bitter aftertaste of alcohol still lingering. She scanned the unfamiliar room, disoriented.
Her last clear memory was the waiter's voice making that call. She fumbled for her phone—dead. A curse slipped past her lips as she pushed herself upright, mind already scrambling for an escape plan.
Within minutes, she had one. Peeking out into the hall, she saw no one. The coast was clear—or so it seemed. She darted out, her bare feet almost silent against the wooden floor, her eyes scanning for her handbag.
"You're up?"
The voice stopped her cold. Deep. Smooth. Dangerous. And far too familiar.
She froze, her back stiffening.
"I believe you're looking for this?" he asked again, a lazy smile curling at his lips.
Her heartbeat thundered against her ribs, almost painful. Slowly—reluctantly—she turned.
Min-jae.
The name echoed in her head like a warning bell. He looked exactly as he did the last time she'd seen him—except now, his build was sharper, his shoulders broader, his presence heavier.
"So," he said, tilting his head slightly, his gaze unreadable, "we meet again."
Her fingers curled into trembling fists at her sides.
She had imagined this moment countless times—only in her fantasies, she was the one in control, chin raised, eyes steady. Not like this. Not barefoot in someone else's room, reeking of soju, hair tangled, heart pounding like a cornered prey.
His gaze didn't waver. Min-jae's eyes, that same stormy grey-brown she remembered, swept over her slowly—too slowly—as if cataloguing every change, every weakness. It made her skin prickle.
"Min-jae?" Her voice came out quieter than she intended, a rasp that betrayed her unease.
As Min-jae took another step forward, Ga-young's pulse spiked. She measured the distance, her mind screaming at her to move. Then—without warning—she bolted.
Her bare feet slapped against the cold floor, then the gravel outside, the air burning her lungs as she sprinted into the morning haze. Behind her, Min-jae stood frozen for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable—surprise flickering in his eyes before it was quickly swallowed by something darker.
She wasn't the same girl he used to know.
Back then, she had been sharp, untouchable.
Now… she looked almost fragile. Pathetic, even.
Ga-young didn't stop until she was nearly half a kilometer away, collapsing against a streetlamp, clutching her chest as her breath came in shallow bursts.
"I must be dreaming," she whispered, pressing trembling fingers to her temple. "This isn't real. Min-jae is still in the US. He can't be back. I'm… I'm just imagining things."
A shaky laugh escaped her lips, an attempt to convince herself. She glanced down at her watch—and froze.
8:47.
Her heart dropped.
"I'm dead," she muttered, shoving her hair out of her face and forcing her legs to move again.
---
Almost an hour later, she eased the heavy conference room door open, praying no one would notice. The space was dark except for the stage, where a bright spotlight lit the podium. Hundreds of people sat in tense silence, their attention fixed forward. The hum of the event was electric—today, the new CEO of the company would be revealed.
She tried to slip into her seat unnoticed, but a sharp nudge hit her arm.
"Hey! Are you insane?" Ji-hye's voice was a furious whisper. "Why are you just showing up now?"
"I'm sorry, something came up," Ga-young murmured, still catching her breath.
Ji-hye sighed but passed her a bouquet of flowers. "I bought you some time. You're on soon."
Ga-young's lips curved into a small smile, the tension easing just a little. "That's why you're my favorite," she whispered, her voice playful.
"Focus," Ji-hye hissed back, but the faint curve at the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement.
The host's voice echoed through the grand hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. It is now my honor to introduce the new CEO of K&H Group—"
Ga-young barely heard the rest. She was too busy trying to steady her breathing, rehearsing her polite smile for when she had to go up there with the flowers.
The sound of footsteps on the stage made her look up—
—and every drop of blood in her body seemed to drain away.
Silence.
There he was.
The last person she ever wanted to see.
Dressed in a tailored black suit that looked like it had been stitched from his very shadow, Min-jae walked to the podium with the kind of confidence that didn't just fill a room—it owned it. His gaze swept over the audience like a predator surveying a field of prey, slow and deliberate, until it landed squarely on her.
Her fingers tightened around the bouquet, the stems bending under the pressure.
"Hey—!! That's your cue," Ji-hye hissed in a whisper, nudging her.
Ga-young didn't move. Couldn't. The roar of her own pulse drowned out the polite applause around them.
Another nudge. "Hey!!" Ji-hye pressed harder this time, snapping her out of the fog.
Ga-young blinked, turning to her friend, then back to the stage.
"Don't let it get to you" Ji-hye said with an encouraging smile.
She exhaled slowly, forcing her legs to move. Rising from her seat, she stepped into the aisle. Every footstep toward the stage was an echo of a past she'd fought to bury, each one heavier than the last.
By the time she reached him, her hands were trembling. She extended the flowers toward him, keeping her eyes fixed anywhere but his.
Min-jae's lips curved into the polite, businesslike smile expected of a CEO, but something almost imperceptibly sharper.
"Good morning," his voice rumbled through the microphone, deep and commanding. "I'm Hwan Min-jae, the new CEO of K&H Group."
The applause swelled again, but Ga-young barely heard it.
The last word—Group—rolled off his tongue with the weight of a claim, and her stomach sank. He wasn't just back in Korea. He was here—in her world, in her company—staking his presence in a place she couldn't escape.
Why now? Why here?
There was only one answer that made sense.
Revenge.
And by the glint in his eyes, she knew with chilling certainty—
he wasn't here to simply take a title.
He was here to take everything.