Chapter 2: Pieces of a Broken Night
The sharp, merciless pounding in her head was the first thing Seo-Ah became aware of.
Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut tighter, wishing she could disappear into the mattress she was sprawled across.
Everything hurt. Her head, her throat, even her stomach felt like a battlefield had erupted inside it.
Where am I?
Slowly, cautiously, she cracked one eye open.
A plain white ceiling stared back at her. She blinked, confusion clouding her thoughts.
This… wasn't her tiny apartment.
Panic surged through her chest. She sat up too fast and immediately regretted it, clutching her temples as a fresh wave of nausea rolled over her.
She was lying on a clean, stiff bed — the kind you'd find in a small clinic, or maybe a care station. Her clothes, thankfully, were intact, though wrinkled and smelling faintly of disinfectant.
On the chair nearby, a staff member — a young man in a black shirt — noticed her stirring.
"You're awake," he said, offering a polite, almost relieved smile. "You were found… um… extremely intoxicated. We called a taxi and brought you to the care station behind Luna Bar."
Seo-Ah groaned, dropping her face into her hands.
Care station?
Taxi?
Luna Bar?!
And then, like broken shards of a mirror, flashes of last night came crashing into her mind —
— Slamming down one drink after another,
— Shouting about her ex,
— A gorgeous man in a black suit,
— Vomiting...
Vomiting on someone.
Seo-Ah's entire soul shriveled up in horror.
No. No, no, no.
Had she really...? Had she actually...?
The staff member seemed to sense the existential crisis unfolding in front of him.
"Don't worry," he said kindly. "You didn't cause too much trouble. Just… well, you might want to apologize if you ever meet the gentleman again. He looked… upset."
Seo-Ah whimpered into her palms.
Upset was putting it lightly, she was sure.
Dragging herself off the bed, she muttered a mortified thank you and stumbled out of the small care station, vowing internally that she would never drink again.
---
By the time she made it home — a cramped little studio apartment with peeling wallpaper — the sun was rising over Seoul's glistening skyline.
Seo-Ah collapsed onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow, muffling a scream of pure embarrassment.
Her ex-boyfriend, Jin-Ho, had betrayed her with another girl.
She had gone to drown her sorrows.
And somehow, she had managed to humiliate herself in front of the most handsome man she had ever seen.
"Great," she mumbled into the pillow.
"Just perfect."
She didn't know his name. She didn't even know if he was real, or some cruel hallucination.
But deep down, Seo-Ah knew: no man with a face like that would go unnoticed in Seoul's elite social scene.
She groaned again, pulling the covers over her head.
Please, universe, she thought miserably. Don't let me ever see him again.
---
Meanwhile, across town…
In a gleaming skyscraper, on the top floor of one of Korea's most powerful conglomerates, Lee Min-Jun stood in front of the window, coffee in hand, overlooking the city he practically ruled.
His assistant, a nervous man named Mr. Choi, hovered nearby with a new schedule in hand.
"Sir, the new branch's final inspection is today. Would you like to oversee it personally?"
Min-Jun, immaculately dressed in another flawless suit, didn't respond immediately.
He was thinking — about a certain drunken girl with big, tearful brown eyes and a heartbreaking smile.
He scowled at himself internally.
He had washed his hands five times. He had burned the ruined suit. He had deleted last night from his memory.
Or so he thought.
"Sir?" Mr. Choi prompted hesitantly.
Min-Jun shook his head slightly. "I'll drop by. Only briefly."
He wasn't about to let a random accident distract him.
He had businesses to run, empires to expand.
One foolish girl — no matter how sad or beautiful — meant nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
---
Later that day…
Seo-Ah clutched the strap of her worn handbag tightly as she stood in front of the gleaming glass building, staring up at it with wide, overwhelmed eyes.
"Lee Financial corporation," the sign read in bold letters.
She swallowed nervously.
This was her last hope.
After losing her part-time jobs, drowning in student debts, and facing eviction from her apartment, Seo-Ah had scrambled desperately for any job she could find.
When the agency called about a new opening for an administrative assistant, she had said yes without even thinking.
Fresh start, she told herself.
New chapter. New me.
She checked her reflection in the glass — messy but passable: a simple blouse tucked into a neat skirt, her hair tied back in a low ponytail.
Straightening her shoulders, she marched into the lobby.
Little did she know, fate had a cruel sense of humor.
Because somewhere in the building, the man she had vomited on last night — the same man she desperately hoped never to see again — was waiting.
________
Seo-Ah wiped her sweaty palms against her skirt for the fifth time as she stood outside the interview room, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
A secretary, dressed in sharp navy blue, glanced up from her tablet and gave Seo-Ah a brief, polite smile.
"Please wait here. Director Kang will call you in shortly."
Seo-Ah nodded, bowing slightly. "Yes, thank you."
She tried to steady her breathing, reminding herself over and over:
You can do this. You have to do this.
The waiting area was sleek and intimidating, filled with an air of cool professionalism.
Everything about Dream Financial Group screamed perfection — from the marble floors to the polished chrome accents, to the stylishly dressed employees bustling around with purpose.
I don't belong here, Seo-Ah thought grimly. I'm way out of my league.
Still, what choice did she have?
She tightened her grip on her bag.
You've been through worse, Seo-Ah. Smile, answer smartly, and hope for a miracle.
As she sat rigidly on the edge of her seat, the elevator at the far end of the hall pinged open.
She didn't pay it much attention at first, too focused on rehearsing answers in her head.
But the slight shift in the atmosphere around her made her glance up —
—and her blood instantly ran cold.
Striding through the hall with an effortless, commanding presence was the very man she had vowed never to see again.
Lee Min-Jun.
He was dressed differently today — charcoal grey suit, crisp white shirt, no tie — but he was unmistakable.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Hands in his pockets.
Sharp black eyes scanning the floor with cool indifference.
The very picture of dominance and control.
Seo-Ah's heart plummeted into her stomach.
No way. No way. NO WAY.
In a blind panic, she ducked her head down, her hair falling like a curtain around her face.
Maybe he wouldn't notice her.
Maybe he was too busy to even glance her way.
But fate, cruel as ever, had other plans.
Min-Jun's steps slowed imperceptibly as he passed by the waiting area.
His sharp gaze swept over the line of applicants waiting for interviews — briefly, mechanically.
And then he saw her.
Even with her head bowed, even with her trying to disappear into the seat, he recognized her immediately.
Those soft brown waves.
The slight tremble in her small shoulders.
It was her.
For a moment, he stopped walking altogether.
Mr. Choi, his assistant, noticed and turned back. "Sir?"
Min-Jun's jaw tightened.
He forced himself to look away, to keep walking — but he felt it.
A strange, unwelcome tug in his chest.
Annoyance.
Disgust.
And something else he couldn't quite name.
---
Seo-Ah risked a peek through her fingers just in time to see his broad back disappearing down the hall, flanked by his assistant.
She let out a strangled breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
He saw me.
He definitely saw me.
Her cheeks burned with humiliation.
Of all the places in Seoul… why here?!
Why now?!
And why did he have to look even more devastatingly handsome in the cold morning light?
"Seo-Ah," a voice called.
She jumped and looked up. The secretary was motioning her forward.
"Director Kang will see you now."
Seo-Ah stumbled to her feet, clutching her bag like a lifeline.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
She couldn't afford to lose this chance just because the universe had decided to prank her.
Squaring her shoulders, she walked into the interview room — desperately praying that Lee Min-Jun had forgotten all about her drunken disaster.
---
Inside the office...
Director Kang, a middle-aged man with thin glasses and a kind smile, conducted the interview with a professional but approachable demeanor.
To Seo-Ah's relief, it wasn't as terrifying as she expected.
He asked about her school records, her part-time jobs, her skills with spreadsheets and basic admin work.
She answered as best as she could — nervous at first, but slowly warming up as she spoke about her determination, her hardworking nature, her willingness to learn.
"I understand you had some rough patches recently," Director Kang said, flipping through her resume. "But we value perseverance here. Lee Financial isn't just about hiring the best — it's about hiring those who don't give up."
Seo-Ah's throat tightened with emotion.
"Thank you," she said, bowing deeply. "I won't let you down if you give me a chance."
Director Kang smiled.
"We'll be in touch soon," he said warmly. "Very soon."
---
Back in the hallway...
As Seo-Ah exited the interview room, heart still hammering from nerves, she almost bumped into a tall figure standing near the elevators.
She froze mid-step.
It was him again.
Lee Min-Jun.
His arms were crossed over his chest as he spoke in low tones to Mr. Choi.
When his eyes flickered briefly toward her, Seo-Ah panicked.
She dipped her head in a frantic bow and practically sprinted down the hall, ignoring the curious looks from other employees.
Behind her, Min-Jun watched the whirlwind girl vanish into the elevator, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Mr. Choi, oblivious, continued briefing him about upcoming projects.
But Min-Jun's mind had already drifted — unwillingly — back to last night.
To the way her face had crumpled in drunken sorrow.
To the way she had babbled nonsense about betrayal and love.
To the unexpected softness that had tugged at him despite every instinct screaming for him to walk away.
He hated complications.
He hated emotions.
He hated how vividly he could still picture her tear-streaked face.
Scowling at himself, Min-Jun shook off the thoughts and strode toward his car.
She meant nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
And yet...
Somewhere deep inside, he wasn't so sure.