The next morning, Hanryeon Tech woke up under a cloud.
Ha-Joon sat in his office, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight, eyes slicing through documents like they had personally offended him.
Pages were flipped.
A pen tapped once.
Too sharp. Too loud.
"This is wrong," he said flatly.
No one replied. No one dared.
He pressed the intercom. "Seo-Jun."
"Yes, sir," came the immediate response.
Ha-Joon didn't look up. "Who did this edit?"
A pause. Paper rustling on the other end.
"…The junior team, sir."
Ha-Joon finally raised his head. His stare could have powered the building.
"Just because our editor is not here doesn't mean we stop functioning," he said coldly.
"We are not a decorative company."
Inside the hallway, Seo-Jun stood perfectly straight, face professional, thoughts anything but.
Of course.
She's gone for one day and the world is ending.
Tragic. Absolutely tragic.
"Redo everything," Ha-Joon continued. "Send it back in one hour."
"Yes, sir."
"And," Ha-Joon added, already turning another page, "send for my coffee."
Seo-Jun blinked once.
…Ah. There it is.
"Yes, sir."
The line cut.
Moments later, Ha-Joon stepped out of his office, documents in hand. A poor staff member froze mid-step.
"You," Ha-Joon said.
The worker straightened so fast it looked painful. "Y-Yes, Director Ha?"
Ha-Joon held up the file. "Did you check this before submitting it?"
"I—I thought—"
"You thought," Ha-Joon repeated softly. Dangerous. "Thinking is not optional. It is required."
The worker nodded rapidly. "I'll fix it immediately!"
Ha-Joon walked past without another glance. "You have thirty minutes."
As he disappeared back into his office, Seo-Jun watched from down the hall, coffee in hand, utterly unbothered.
Internally, he sighed.
She's really not here.
And he's taking it out on everyone.
Including the coffee.
--
Ji-Ah finished her bath and stepped out, hair still damp, the scent of soap trailing behind her like a soft echo.
She nearly bumped into someone standing stiffly by the door.
"Unnie," Ji-Ah said lightly, towel tucked over her shoulder. "You can use it now."
Seo-Yeon stood there, arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere over Ji-Ah's head.
No answer.
Not even a hum.
The silence lingered.
Heavy.
Polite.
Sharp around the edges.
Ji-Ah's smile wavered, then she let it go.
She stepped aside anyway, moving past her sister without another word.
In the living room, warmth waited.
Mr. Park sat cross-legged on the floor, glasses slipping down his nose as he studied the chessboard.
Across from him, Min-Jea frowned deeply, chin in his hand like this was a matter of national importance.
Ji-Ah leaned against the doorway, smiling.
Mr. Park looked up first. "You're done?"
"Yes, Papa."
"And?" He nudged a chess piece forward. "How did the talk with the principal go?"
Ji-Ah shrugged, casual. "It's okay."
Min-Jea moved a piece.
Immediately regretted it.
Mr. Park captured it with a quiet, victorious click.
"Ah," Min-Jea muttered. "Again?"
Ji-Ah laughed softly and went to her room.
A moment later, she returned carrying several shopping bags and set them on the table with a small thud.
She slid one toward Min-Jea. "Promise this is for you."
His eyes widened. "Really?"
"And this," she said, handing another to her father, "is for you, Dad."
Mr. Park's expression softened instantly. "You didn't have to…"
"I wanted to."
Joon-Seo appeared from the hallway just in time.
Ji-Ah handed him a bag too, then paused, glancing briefly toward the bathroom door.
"And… this one," she said quietly, placing the last bag on the table, "is for Seo-Yeon."
She stepped back. "I can't face her."
Mr. Park watched her closely. "You're leaving this evening?"
She nodded, smile gentle but firm. "Yes."
"So soon," he murmured.
Min-Jea straightened. "We need to go back to work."
Ji-Ah turned to her father again. "Anytime you feel like it, you can come visit me in Busan. I'll be waiting."
Her smile stayed, soft and steady.
"I'm leaving soon," she added lightly.
The chessboard sat forgotten between them, pieces frozen mid-game, as if even they knew this moment mattered more.
--
The gate creaked softly as it opened.
Ji-Ah stood at the threshold with her bag slung over one shoulder, the late afternoon light spilling across the yard in warm, slanted stripes.
The house behind her hummed with quiet.
Too quiet.
Joon-Seo lingered near the door, hands shoved into his pockets like a kid who already knew he was about to be scolded.
Ji-Ah smiled and stepped closer. "Don't get into trouble again."
"I never do," he said quickly.
She snorted, reached up, and ruffled his hair anyway, messing it up on purpose. "That's what you said last time."
He groaned. "Noona."
She shook her head, fond and exasperated, then stepped back. Her eyes drifted sideways without meaning to.
Seo-Yeon stood a few steps away, arms folded, expression unreadable. Watching. Waiting.
Or maybe guarding her silence like armor.
For a heartbeat, Ji-Ah considered saying something.
Anything.
Instead, she simply nodded.
Not an apology. Not a challenge. Just acknowledgment.
Seo-Yeon didn't move.
Ji-Ah turned, adjusted the strap of her bag, and walked away.
The gate closed behind her with a soft click, sealing the goodbye she didn't say out loud.
--
Ji-Ah stood in front of the mansion for a second longer than necessary.
People called it her home.She never corrected them.She also never agreed.
She adjusted the strap of her bag and stepped inside.
She'd changed on the way back.
A soft pink shirt, sleeves slightly too long, the fabric catching light with every movement.
Milk-white shorts brushed her knees, simple and clean.
The outfit made her look almost… harmless.
Playful.
Childish in a way that felt unintentional, like she'd wandered into the wrong world wearing the wrong mood.
She pressed the doorbell.
As expected, the door opened smoothly.
A maid.
Polite smile.
Perfect posture.
"Welcome back, Ms. Park."
Ji-Ah nodded and stepped in.
She waited.
For Nisa to come running.For Do-Hyun's lazy voice to float down the hall.
Nothing.
The mansion was quiet in that expensive, echoing way that made even breathing feel loud.
She walked further inside.
And then she saw them.
Ha-Joon sat at the center of the room, posture rigid, hands crossed neatly in front of him.
His suit was flawless, as always.
Dark.
Controlled.
His face unreadable, eyes fixed somewhere past the documents on the table like the world had personally offended him.
Across from him stood Seo-Jun. Straight-backed.
Professional. Calm enough to be annoying.
The atmosphere felt… wrong.
Ji-Ah slowed, then bowed slightly. "Hello."
Ha-Joon didn't look up.
"…Sir," she added, the word tasting strange after days away.
"I'm back."
Nothing.
Seo-Jun glanced at Ha-Joon, then at her.
He straightened, offered Ji-Ah a small, polite smile, and stepped away without a word.
Gone like he knew better than to stay.
The air shifted.
Ha-Joon stood.
The sound of the chair moving back was sharp. Deliberate.
He walked toward her.
Each step felt measured.
Controlled.
His jaw was tight, eyes dark, unreadable in a way she hadn't seen before. Not furious.
Not calm. Something worse. Something held back.
Ji-Ah swallowed.
"Yes, sir," she said automatically, her voice betraying her just a little.
He stopped in front of her.
"Freshen up," he said flatly. "You're going to play for me."
She blinked.
"…Play?"
Before she could ask anything else, he had already turned away, his steps firm as he walked out of the room.
Ji-Ah stood there, frozen.
She had just returned.
No welcome.
No questions.
Just that.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Is he in a bad mood?
And why is it always the piano?
She exhaled slowly, muttering under her breath, "I leave for a few days and suddenly I'm background music?"
The mansion swallowed her words whole.