The private jet was ridiculous.
Leather seats, champagne I didn't touch, and Kang Dae-Hyun across from me, laptop open, typing like the world depended on it.
I stared out the window the whole flight.
Busan in forty minutes.
He didn't say a word.
Fine by me.
Hate was easier in silence.
We landed smooth.
Car waiting.
Hotel — five-star, harbor view.
Separate rooms, thank God.
Check-in.
He took keycards.
Handed me one.
"Suite 3201. Mine 3203. Meeting at 6. Client dinner 7."
"Got it, boss."
He glanced.
"Don't call me boss."
"What then? Your Majesty?"
He walked away.
I smiled.
Small win.
Hotel Room – Real Me
Door closed.
Heels off.
Bun down.
Glasses on.
Hoodie.
Phone out.
Video call girlies.
They answered chaos.
Seoyeon in face mask.
Nari eating ramen.
Ara sipping tea.
Jiwon in scrubs.
"SPILL."
I told everything.
Flight silence.
Separate rooms.
Dinner tonight.
Nari: "Alone? Dinner? Hotel?"
"Client there."
Seoyeon: "Still. Tension."
Ara: "Be careful."
Jiwon: "Have fun."
Me: "Fun? With Satan?"
They laughed.
Then Nari serious.
"Speaking of Satan… I found something."
We leaned in.
"Executive wife. Mrs. Choi. Finance VP wife."
Photo.
Pretty.
Flashy.
Always new bags.
Jewelry.
"Nari dug SNS."
"Private account. Leaked."
Photos.
Same woman.
Different city.
Different name.
Five years ago.
"Bigamy? Or scam?"
Ara: "Or both."
Seoyeon: "She's at gala tomorrow. Busan branch."
Me: "Here?"
Nari: "Perfect. First case."
Girlies eyes lit.
"Stakeout?"
Me: "Dinner tonight. Gala tomorrow. I'll watch."
They cheered.
Case on.
6 p.m. – Meeting Room
Client early.
Japanese investors.
Dae-Hyun perfect.
Korean.
English.
Numbers.
Charm when needed.
Cold when not.
I took notes.
Translated quiet.
He glanced once.
Approval?
Maybe.
Dinner.
Fancy seafood.
Sashimi.
Soju.
Laughter.
Business talk.
I smiled.
Nodded.
Poured drinks.
Perfect assistant.
Mrs. Choi there.
VP wife.
Husband drunk.
She quiet.
Watchful.
I noticed.
She noticed me noticing.
Smile fake.
Game on.
10 p.m. – Hotel Bar
Dinner done.
Client left.
Dae-Hyun: "Drink?"
"Work night."
"One."
Bar.
Quiet.
Jazz.
We sat corner.
Whiskey him.
Wine me.
Talk business.
Then quiet.
He looked view.
Harbor lights.
I looked him.
Profile sharp.
Tired?
Maybe.
"You hate me."
Direct.
I sipped.
"Little."
He turned.
"Why?"
"You're cold. Mean. Perfect."
He laughed.
Soft.
First time.
Nice sound.
"Not perfect."
"Liar."
He leaned.
Close.
"You're disobedient."
"Good."
Eyes locked.
Tension.
Hot.
Thunder far.
He tensed.
Small.
I noticed.
Said nothing.
He paid.
Left.
Separate elevators.
Goodnight cold.
But eyes warm.
Weird.
Midnight – Storm Hits
Knock.
My door.
I opened.
Dae-Hyun.
Shirt untucked.
Hair messy.
Eyes wide.
Thunder loud.
"Power out. Building."
Lie?
Lights on.
I let him in.
"Scared of dark?"
He entered.
Closed door.
"No."
Thunder cracked.
He flinched.
Big.
I saw.
Fear.
Real.
I didn't laugh.
Just closed curtains.
"Sit."
He did.
Sofa.
I sat beside.
Not touching.
Thunder again.
He gripped cushion.
I took hand.
Gentle.
"Breathe."
He did.
Looked at me.
Surprised.
I smiled.
Small.
"Bad memory?"
He nodded.
Slow.
"Kid. Alone. Storm. Father gone."
Quiet.
I squeezed hand.
"Not alone now."
He looked.
Long.
Something shift.
Soft.
Then pulled hand.
Stood.
"Better."
Left.
Fast.
Door closed.
I sat.
Heart racing.
Hate?
Maybe not.
Something else.
Dangerous.
Morning – Breakfast Silence
Hotel restaurant.
He there.
Coffee black.
I sat.
Iced Americano.
He pushed toward me.
Without word.
I took.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
Ate quiet.
Then: "Gala tonight. Branch."
"I know."
"Mrs. Choi will be there."
I paused.
"How know?"
"Saw guest list."
He looked.
Sharp.
"Stay close."
Bossy.
Protective?
I nodded.
"Fine."
He paid.
Left.
I watched.
Confused.
Hate.
But care?
No.
Hate.
Definitely.
Gala Night – First Real Case
Ballroom.
Fancy.
I in black dress.
Simple.
Hot.
He in tux.
Hotter.
We entered.
Together.
Not together.
Mrs. Choi there.
Smile fake.
Husband drunk.
I watched.
She slipped out.
Balcony.
Phone.
I followed.
Quiet.
Heard.
"Money ready? Tomorrow."
Pause.
"No. He doesn't suspect."
Pause.
"Yes. Divorce soon."
My eyes wide.
Scam.
Big.
I texted girlies.
Me: Caught her. Planning divorce. Money grab.
They exploded.
Proof needed.
I snapped photo.
Back inside.
Dae-Hyun found me.
"Dance?"
"No."
He took hand.
Pulled floor.
Slow song.
We danced.
Close.
Too close.
He whispered.
"Mrs. Choi?"
I looked up.
"How know?"
"Saw you follow."
Smart.
I told quiet.
He listened.
Face hard.
"We handle."
"We?"
"Company matter."
I nodded.
Song ended.
He didn't let go.
Long.
Eyes locked.
Thunder outside.
He tensed.
I squeezed hand.
He relaxed.
Small.
Something there.