The elevator doors closed with a soft chime.
Glass walls revealed the city sliding downward, floor by floor, lights blurring into streaks of gold and steel. Ji-Ah stood perfectly still at the center, tablet tucked under her arm, posture immaculate.
Inside, the air felt heavier than it should have.
Min-Ho stood to her left, hands relaxed in his pockets. Not too close. Not distant enough to feel deliberate. Just… there.
Neither spoke.
Her phone vibrated.
Once.
Twice.
Then again—rapid now.
She ignored it.
The elevator descended in silence, but tension climbed anyway.
Min-Ho noticed the way her jaw tightened. The way her shoulders held a fraction too much tension for someone who never let cracks show. He didn't look at her phone. Didn't ask.
But he knew.
The doors opened.
Noise rushed in.
Voices. Footsteps. Flashing screens.
The morning had already turned.
By the time they stepped into the lobby, the headline had spread like a controlled fire—strategic, intentional, destructive.
VOSS CEO LINKED TO CELEBRITY SCANDAL?EXCLUSIVE: MIN-HO AND JI-AH—PRIVATE MEETING OR PUBLIC MOVE?
A manipulated photo dominated every screen.
A still frame from the staircase incident—cropped tightly. Her fall erased. His steadying hand framed like an embrace. Perspective twisted just enough to suggest intimacy.
Investors paused mid-step.
Employees whispered.
Phones lifted discreetly.
Ji-Ah didn't slow.
Security closed in, but she waved them off with a subtle gesture. Cameras clicked. A reporter dared step forward.
"Ms. Voss, care to comment on the nature of your relationship with Min-Ho?"
She stopped.
The room froze.
Ji-Ah turned, gaze cool, measured, unshaken.
"There is no relationship," she said evenly. "There is a campaign. Anything else is speculation."
"Then the photo"
"Is misleading," she finished. "And will be addressed legally."
Her tone wasn't defensive.
It was final.
The room exhaled.
She walked on.
Behind her, Min-Ho watched the exchange with sharp eyes. Not admiration. Not surprise.
Assessment.
Upstairs, the boardroom was already waiting.
Stock graphs glowed red at the edges. Not crashing—but trembling. The kind of instability that made investors nervous without giving them reason to flee.
"This leak was timed," one director said tightly. "Just before market open."
"A competitor?" another asked.
Ji-Ah took her seat.
"Yes," she said calmly. "And no."
They looked at her.
"Someone paid for the leak," she continued. "But the interest comes from fear. Fear sells faster than facts."
"Should we suspend the campaign?"
"No."
Silence.
Ji-Ah met their gazes one by one.
"We don't retreat because someone tried to provoke us," she said. "We clarify. We proceed. And we document every misstep they make."
The room steadied.
Control restored.
By the end of the meeting, the stock had stabilized. The narrative shifted -barely, but enough. Publicly, Ji-Ah Voss remained untouchable.
Privately-
She didn't go back to her office.
She walked past it.
Down the corridor. Through a side exit few people used.
Min-Ho followed without being asked.
Not because he thought she needed it.
Because she didn't tell him not to.
The second elevator was empty.
The doors slid shut.
This one had no glass walls.
Just mirrored steel.
The silence returned but different now.
He noticed her reflection first.
Her shoulders were tight.
Not shaking.
Not collapsing.
Just… braced.
He stayed still.
Didn't speak.
Didn't look at his phone.
Didn't offer words that would turn presence into pressure.
Seconds passed.
The elevator hummed.
Her breath hitched—once. Barely perceptible.
He noticed.
Said nothing.
That was what broke her rhythm.
Not concern.
Not questions.
The absence of demand.
"You're not going to say anything?" she asked quietly, eyes still forward.
"No," he replied.
"Why?"
"Because you're handling it."
She turned then, just enough to look at him.
"And if I wasn't?"
"Then I'd still stay," he said. "Unless you told me not to."
The elevator slowed.
Her chest tightened—annoyance, unease, something sharper underneath.
"I don't need someone hovering," she said.
"I'm not hovering."
"Then what are you doing?"
He met her gaze in the mirror.
"Standing."
The doors opened.
She stepped out first.
He followed.
In the corridor, she stopped abruptly.
He halted instantly - no collision, no intrusion.
She turned fully now.
"You think this makes you different?" she asked. "Being silent? Being patient?"
"No," he said honestly. "I think it makes me me."
She searched his face.
For strategy.
For ego.
For expectation.
There was none.
That disturbed her more than the headlines ever could.
"People always want something," she said.
"I know."
"And you?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then: "If I want something, I'll ask."
Not now.
Not here.
Not at her weakest point.
Ji-Ah felt something shift—not comfort.
Awareness.
She looked away.
"Don't follow me again," she said.
"I didn't," he replied gently. "We were going the same way."
That was true.
She left without another word.
Min-Ho remained where he was for a moment, listening to her footsteps fade.
He didn't feel victorious.
He felt… steady.
Across the city, the story continued to spiral—media spinning theories, rivals waiting to see cracks.
But inside Ji-Ah Voss's carefully ordered world, the disruption wasn't the photo.
It was this:
He hadn't tried to save her. Hadn't claimed space. Hadn't mistaken chaos for invitation.
He'd respected her strength without testing it.
And that—
That made him unfamiliar.
Unsettling.
Dangerous in a way power wasn't.
Ji-Ah entered her car, door closing softly behind her.
The city moved on.
But for the first time, pressure didn't come from above.
It came from within.
Ji-Ah notices a detail in the leaked photo that feels… engineered.
Scene: Business News Panel (Night Slot)
Studio lights. Neutral tone.Anchor casually brings up the "recent controversy".
"Chairman Seo, as someone known for ethical leadership—what's your view on the current situation surrounding Ji-Ah Group?"
Seo Kang-Jin doesn't smile immediately.He pauses. Long enough to look responsible.
Seo Kang-Jin:"Speculation harms everyone involved."(beat)"But silence can also damage trust."
He folds his hands. Calm. Clean.
"When leaders represent brands, their private conduct inevitably reflects on public confidence. That's not judgment. It's reality."
Anchor nods. Viewers nod.No accusation. No name dragged.
Then the knife—softly:
"I hope Director Ji-Ah takes care of herself during this… difficult phase.The industry can be unforgiving to young women."
Young. Women.
That line trends.
Headlines next morning:
"Seo Kang-Jin urges accountability amid Ji-Ah controversy"
"Industry veteran warns: Silence isn't neutrality"
Ji-Ah never responds.
Min-Ho watches the clip once.Turns the screen off.
He already knows who moved.