The soft hum of computers slowly faded as the Cyber Crimes Division prepared to shut down for the day. Screens dimmed one by one, chairs scraped back, and the steady tick of the wall clock announced five in the evening. Kang Eun-ji stretched at her desk, rubbing the stiffness from her shoulders, while Lee Mi-ran snapped her laptop shut with visible relief. Eun-chae rose beside them, rolling her ankles as if her feet had finally surrendered.
"All right," Mi-ran said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and jingling her car keys. "I'm leaving before Director Park changes his mind about letting us go."
She glanced between them. "I'm driving. Want a ride?"
"Absolutely," Eun-chae replied instantly, grimacing as she stood. "My feet stopped working an hour ago."
Eun-ji exhaled slowly, lifting her purse. "I think I'll walk. Feels like I need it today."
Eun-chae grinned. "Wow… the forties really are creeping in."
Eun-ji raised a brow, unimpressed. "Keep talking, and I'll show you how sharp a forty-year-old's reflexes still are."
She swung her purse at them in mock warning. "Brats."
Mi-ran and Eun-chae shrieked and ducked, laughing as they bolted toward the exit.
"Help! Elder abuse!" Eun-chae yelled from down the hall.
"File it under 'Purse Assault'!" Mi-ran added.
Eun-ji shook her head, laughter escaping despite herself. She watched them disappear before following more slowly, her steps unhurried, a faint smile lingering on her face.
That night, inside Whisper Grounds Café, a pair of small legs swung back and forth beneath a wooden chair.
A little girl sat alone at a corner table, her hair neatly tied, her bright eyes fixed on the entrance. Each time the door opened, her posture straightened with hope — and each time, disappointment followed. She lowered her gaze, fingers tracing the edge of the laminated menu in front of her.
"Mr. Jung?"
The girl looked up.
Standing before her was Eun-chae, elegant yet hesitant, clearly unsure if she had the right table.
"Yes," the girl said politely. "Please sit."
Eun-chae smiled, confused but warm, and took the seat across from her. "Is this Mr. Jung's table? I came here to meet him."
The girl nodded with serious conviction. "I know. Mr. Jung is my father."
Eun-chae blinked.
"I'm actually looking for a mom," the girl continued softly. "My dad doesn't know I did this. I saw my grandmother sending him profiles… and I chose you. I arranged this date myself."
Something in Eun-chae's shoulders eased. Her smile softened. "What's your name?"
"Mi-rae."
"That's a beautiful name," Eun-chae said sincerely. "And you're beautiful too, Mi-rae."
The girl beamed, hands folded neatly on the table. Then she leaned forward, hope shining in her eyes.
"Will you be my mom?"
The question struck deeper than Eun-chae expected. Her smile faltered, words caught in her throat.
"Well—"
A sharp voice cut through the café like shattered glass.
"I didn't know you were in the business of luring children into cafés now."
Eun-chae turned.
Officer Jung stood before her, dressed in civilian clothes, his expression cold and unyielding. Mi-rae lit up instantly.
"Appa!"
She glanced between them, confused. "Wait… you two know each other?"
Eun-chae stood, calm but firm. "Mr. Jung, I didn't lure anyone. Your daughter invited me. On her own."
Mi-rae shrank back as her father stepped forward, his voice tight with anger. "You shouldn't have come," he said to Eun-chae. Then, to his daughter, "Stay away from her. From us."
He took Mi-rae's hand. "Don't cross paths with us again."
They turned to leave.
The café had gone unnaturally still. Conversations hushed. Curious eyes followed them, whispers passing between tables.
Eun-chae stood frozen, suddenly aware of every gaze pressing down on her. She swallowed hard, picked up her bag, and walked out quickly — her head lowered, her dignity intact.
The door closed behind her.