Ji-Woo sat on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight. One knee was drawn up, the other foot resting flat on the floor.
A small mirror lay in her lap, tilted just enough for her to see the faint mark on her forehead.
She dabbed at it carefully with a cotton pad, wincing more from annoyance than pain.
"Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.
The room was silent except for the soft rustle of fabric and her uneven breathing.
She pressed the pad away, inspected it, then leaned back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling.
"All those Ji-Woo haters…" she scoffed, shaking her head. "If I didn't hate violence so much, I swear—"
She stopped herself, clicking her tongue.
"I would've slapped every single one of them."
Her hand dropped to her lap, fingers curling into the bedsheet. The anger came in waves—hot, unfair, exhausting.
"They act like they know me. Like they get to decide who I am," she said quietly. "Some of them talk like they actually want me gone. Like I deserve it."
She laughed once, sharp and humorless.
"What, you want to kill me now? Is that it?"
The laugh faded as quickly as it came. Ji-Woo reached up again, smoothing the bandage into place, more gentle this time. Her shoulders sagged.
"I'm so tired," she whispered, not to anyone in particular.
--
Mi-Sook didn't look surprised when Ha-Rin walked in.
She was seated by the window, legs crossed, phone face-down on the table, sunlight cutting sharp lines across her calm expression. The room smelled faintly of coffee—untouched, already cold.
"You're late," Mi-Sook said lightly.
Ha-Rin didn't sit.
"I went to the address you gave me," she said. "She doesn't have it."
Mi-Sook smiled—small, patient. "Of course she doesn't."
That made Ha-Rin's jaw tighten. "Then why did you send me?"
Mi-Sook finally looked up. Her eyes were steady, unreadable. "Because I needed you to see it for yourself."
"See what?" Ha-Rin snapped.
"That she isn't Ji-Woo."
Silence.
The words settled heavy between them.
"You knew," Ha-Rin said slowly.
Mi-Sook tilted her head. "I suspected."
"You lied to me."
"I redirected you."
Ha-Rin laughed once—sharp, humorless. "My mother's jewelry went missing. People blamed her. Threatened her. And you used that to run errands for you?"
Mi-Sook's smile faded, just slightly. "Don't dramatize this."
Ha-Rin slammed her palm against the table. "That necklace was the last thing she had. You told me Ji-Woo took it."
"She did," Mi-Sook replied calmly. "The real one."
Ha-Rin froze. "Then where is she?"
Mi-Sook reached for her phone.
"You want answers?" she said. "You should talk to the person who can give them."
She unlocked the screen, tapped twice, and turned it toward Ha-Rin.
A number.
"She's been avoiding me," Mi-Sook continued. "But she won't ignore you—not after what she took."
Ha-Rin stared at the screen. "You're sending me after her."
"I'm giving you what you asked for," Mi-Sook corrected. "A path."
"And what do you get?" Ha-Rin asked quietly.
Mi-Sook's eyes lifted. Cold now. Sharp.
"Order," she said. "Things put back where they belong."
Ha-Rin slowly took the phone.
"If this is another lie—"
Mi-Sook leaned back. "Then you'll come back angrier than you already are."
Their eyes locked.
"And Ha-Rin?" Mi-Sook added softly. "When you text her… don't mention me."
Ha-Rin clenched the phone in her hand.
"Don't worry," she said. "I won't."
She turned and walked out without looking back.
Mi-Sook waited until the door closed.
Then she picked up her untouched coffee and took a slow sip—
as if nothing had ever been out of her control.
--
Mrs. Park sat stiffly across from the desk, her handbag resting untouched on her lap. She glanced around the office once before letting out a dry laugh.
"Why am I even here?" she asked, irritation clear in her voice.
Mrs. Kim didn't look up right away. She closed the file in front of her and met Mrs. Park's gaze calmly. "You came because you wanted answers."
Mrs. Park scoffed. "Answers about what? Ji-Woo? I heard she's almost recovered."
"She is," Mrs. Kim said. "She even managed to travel. I went to Jeonju recently."
Mrs. Park's brows furrowed. "Jeonju? Why would you go there?"
"To visit Ji-Soo's parents," Mrs. Kim replied evenly. "Ji-Woo asked me to. But what I found there…" She paused. "It was far beyond my understanding."
Mrs. Park leaned back, crossing her arms. "And now you're stressed about it."
"Yes," Mrs. Kim admitted. "Very."
There was a brief silence before Mrs. Park clicked her tongue, annoyance bubbling up. "Speaking of stress—Ji-Ho."
Mrs. Kim stiffened slightly.
"Every time I see his face," Mrs. Park continued, her voice sharp, "he reminds me of his mother. Too much. I can't stand it."
Mrs. Kim folded her hands. "Then maybe you should return him to his mother."
Mrs. Park laughed, but there was no humor in it. "If it were that easy, I would've done it a long time ago."
Her eyes darkened. "Because of him, Hoseok always feels small. Ji-Ho is smarter, and Hoseok knows it. I don't like watching that."
Mrs. Kim frowned. "Aren't you the one who pressures Ji-Ho the most? Always telling him to read, to stop talking nonsense, to be better?"
Mrs. Park's lips pressed into a thin line. Then, quietly, "I just wish he was gone."
The words settled heavily between them.
"But Mr. Park won't allow it," she added, her voice tense. "He says he loves his son too much. That he's proud of him. If it were up to him, Ji-Ho would stay forever."
Mrs. Kim said nothing. She simply watched Mrs. Park, her expression unreadable, the office suddenly feeling far smaller than before.
--
Ji-Woo lay curled on her side, the room dim except for the thin line of streetlight slipping through the curtains. The bandage on her forehead stood out against her pale skin, her hair spread messily across the pillow. Her breathing was slow, uneven—the kind that said she was asleep, but not deeply.
Her phone vibrated on the bedside table.
Once.Twice.
She groaned softly and reached for it, squinting at the screen.
"…What?" Her voice was rough with sleep.
"Wow," Ji-Bok's voice came through immediately. "So you are alive."
Ji-Woo frowned. "Do you know what time it is?" She pushed herself up slightly. "If you're calling to joke, I swear—"
"Yah, I almost got blamed for you disappearing," he complained. "You just left the shoot. No warning. Nothing."
She rubbed her temple. "I said I wasn't feeling well. Isn't that enough?"
Ji-Bok let out a long breath. "You hide too much, Ji-Woo."
Her expression hardened.
"I already know," he went on, voice lower now. "You're Ji-Soo. So why do you keep pretending I'm someone you can shut out?"
She was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Why do you care so much?"
"…You really don't get it," he muttered.
She sighed, exhaustion seeping into her voice. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to stop acting like you're alone," he said. "Just once."
She closed her eyes. "You talk too much," she said softly. Then, almost teasing, "Go to sleep, genius."
"Yah—" he started.
She hung up.
Ji-Woo set the phone down and lay back, staring at the ceiling before turning onto her side again, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
Across town, Ji-Bok stared at his dark screen.
"Tch."
He tossed the phone aside onto the couch.
"Mrs. Arrogant," he muttered, rubbing his face, his annoyance tangled with something he refused to name.
The room fell quiet again.