The world was starting to notice.
News articles called UniTrade "the student business revolution."
Investors called it "the next unicorn."
And I just called it stress.
Every morning brought new emails, new meetings, new faces who smiled a little too widely when they shook my hand.
The money kept flowing, infinite as ever, but I'd started realizing that not everything else could keep up.
Sleep, for one. Sanity, maybe two.
[You need to rest, Rin,] Nova reminded me.
[You've had three hours in two days.]
"I'll rest when things calm down," I muttered, typing out another reply.
[That's what you said last week.]
She was right. But so was I — this expansion deal was huge.
If it went through, UniTrade would launch across Japan and Singapore.
Still, my thoughts kept drifting back to Silver Strings… and to her.
Soo-ah noticed before anyone else did.
"You look exhausted," she said one night at the studio, handing me a warm cup of coffee.
Her fingers brushed mine — just for a second — but it was enough to ground me.
"I'm fine," I said, forcing a small smile.
She raised an eyebrow. "That's what people say when they're not fine."
I chuckled softly. "You've been studying psychology now?"
"No," she said, smirking. "Just studying you."
That made my heart skip a beat.
We sat down by the big window, watching the city lights flicker outside.
The studio was alive with quiet music — a few members still working on late-night pieces.
Soo-ah leaned her head against the glass and exhaled.
"You know," she said, "I think people see you as untouchable. The guy who can do anything. The one with endless money."
I stayed silent for a moment. "Maybe that's the problem."
She turned toward me. "What do you mean?"
"I don't want to be seen as someone who has everything. I just want to live like everyone else — to feel like what I'm doing actually means something."
Her expression softened. "Then you're already there, Rin. Silver Strings means something. You mean something."
For a second, neither of us said a word.
Her eyes caught the faint glow of the city below — soft, steady, real.
The next few days blurred into one long rush of phone calls and paperwork.
I hired more staff, launched new features, and negotiated with global investors.
But between every meeting, I found myself checking messages from Soo-ah — short, simple things like:
Don't skip lunch today.
Remember to breathe.
The new art students are painting the entrance — you should see it.
Each one felt like a small anchor, pulling me back to earth.
When the Japan deal finally closed, I celebrated in the most boring way possible: falling asleep at my desk.
Nova woke me up the next morning with a smug tone.
[Congratulations. You're now the CEO of a global company and the proud owner of a stiff neck.]
"Thanks," I mumbled. "I'll add that to my résumé."
[Maybe add emotionally attached to one particular artist, too.]
"Nova."
[Just saying.]
I couldn't help but laugh. "You're getting nosy."
[You're getting obvious.]
That evening, Soo-ah showed up at my apartment with takeout.
"You didn't answer your phone," she said. "So I figured you were either dead or working."
"Half right," I said. "Come in."
We sat on the floor, eating noodles out of paper boxes while the city glowed outside my balcony.
It was simple, quiet — and perfect.
"Hey, Rin," she said suddenly. "Do you ever wonder how long all this will last?"
I looked at her. "What do you mean?"
"The money, the success, everything. What if one day it just… stops?"
I thought for a moment. "Then I'd still have the things that matter. People. You."
Her eyes met mine — steady, searching — and for once, I didn't look away.
[Heart rate up again,] Nova whispered playfully.
[Maybe I should play music this time.]
I ignored her completely.
Soo-ah smiled faintly. "You're not the same person I met at the start of the semester."
"I hope not."
She reached out, brushing a stray bit of hair from my face. "Good. I like this version of you better."
And just like that — the space between us vanished.