I woke up to silence.
No rain. No thunder. No shouting. Just the quiet hum of an air conditioner and the distant tick of a clock somewhere in the room.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
My head throbbed like someone had hit it with a hammer. Every blink sent sparks behind my eyes. My lashes were heavy, coated with sleep and the lingering burn of last night's wine.
I lifted my hand to rub my face, and the first terrifying thought hit me:
This isn't my room.
White. Smooth. Expensive. Unfamiliar.
My heartbeat stumbled.
I tried to sit up, slow, careful. Every nerve screamed, warning me to stop. And then I felt it—warmth. A solid weight at my waist. An arm.
I froze.
My breath hitched. My body refused to move.
Very slowly, I turned my head. Carefully, as if the slightest twitch could shatter everything.
A man was there.
Bare chest. Broad shoulders. Dark hair falling across his forehead. His face relaxed in sleep, unfairly perfect. Strong jaw, high cheekbones softened by the gentle morning light filtering through the curtains.
For two seconds, my brain flatlined.
And then reality hit like a punch to the gut.
The wine.
Mi-ra's fake, sweet smile.
"Unnie, just rest here for a bit…"
The keycard. The door closing. Footsteps fading into the night.
My fingers tightened around the bedsheets.
No… no… no…
Flashes returned. His voice. Low. Hoarse. Dangerous in its calmness. The way he looked at me… like I was something rare. The kiss. Gentle. Careful. Not forced. Yet… electric.
So it really happened… I whispered.
Panic surged. This was their plan. My step-sisters wanted me ruined. Disgraced. Cast out like trash.
If Father finds out…
I could already see his expression—cold. Unforgiving. Disappointed. Shameless girl. My entire future, gone before it even began.
I had to leave. Now.
Before anyone saw me here. Before they won.
Carefully, I lifted the man's arm from my waist. Even in sleep, his fingers twitched, reluctant to let go. My chest thumped against my ribs. Why…?
I studied him. Not a cheap thug Mi-ra could hire. Everything about him screamed wealth and power—the expensive watch on the bedside table, the tailored jacket thrown carelessly over the chair.
Who are you…?
A strange ache gripped my chest. If last night wasn't a trap… would it have felt different?
I bit my lip. Don't be foolish, Ye-rin. This isn't romance. It's a mistake.
I slipped out of bed, legs weak, pulling on my wrinkled dress. Every sound was deafening—the rustle of fabric, the zip sliding up, my shaky breathing.
Bag in hand, I paused at the door. Sunlight spilled across the bed, brushing his face in gold. He looked… peaceful. Almost gentle.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. I didn't even know why I was apologizing. Then I ran.
The hallway was cold against my bare arms. My heels clicked sharply against marble, echoing in the empty corridor. Head down. Heart racing. Afraid someone would recognize me, call my name, stop me.
The elevator doors slid shut. My reflection stared back: messy hair, swollen lips, red eyes.
I looked guilty. But I'm the victim… why do I feel guilty?
The doors opened, and the city swallowed me whole. Bright morning light. Crowds. Hustle. Somewhere, unnoticed, I vanished.
Behind me, the man stirred.
Kang Jae-hyun. His hand reached lazily, met empty sheets. Warmth… gone.
Eyes snapping open.
Hotel. Company dinner. Too much alcohol.
He sat up, rubbing his temples. Then froze. A faint floral scent lingered on the pillow. Not his.
Fragments of last night returned. A girl. Big frightened eyes. Soft hands gripping his shirt. Lips against his.
He had touched her. And for the first time in twenty-eight years… nothing happened. No rash. No allergy. No fear.
He threw the blanket aside, standing too quickly, dizziness hitting him.
"Where is she…?"
Bathroom. Empty. Balcony. Empty. Closet. Empty.
Only silence answered him.
His chest tightened in a way he didn't understand. She was here. Real.
Click.
The door opened. Two women stepped in, whispering… until they saw him.
Their laughter died instantly.
"…K-Kang Jae-hyun?" one stammered. Recognition. Fear.
His gaze turned cold.
"Who are you?"
They froze.
"The girl who was here last night… where is she?" His voice dropped. Sharp, quiet, lethal.
They hesitated. Lied. His jaw tightened. He pulled out his phone.
"Check the hotel CCTV. Every exit. I want the woman who left this room. Find her."
He ended the call, glancing once more at the empty bed. Something twisted painfully in his chest.
He didn't even know her name. Yet losing her felt like losing something important.
"I'll find you," he murmured.
Flashbacks hit him again—her laugh, the panic in her eyes, the strange calm when she clutched at him. The warmth of her small hand. The way she had trusted him instinctively, as if she knew he wouldn't hurt her.
He didn't know why his chest ached. He barely knew her. And yet—
He couldn't stop thinking about her.
Somewhere, outside, the city glittered. Crowds passed. Morning traffic roared. A million people going about their lives. And somewhere within it, Seo Ye-rin had disappeared.
But he would find her.
No one vanishes from Kang Jae-hyun's world.
Not her.
Not ever.