Chapter 3: The Start of Something
The next morning, Seo-Ah barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she imagined all the ways she might have embarrassed herself during the interview — and worse, all the ways Lee Min-Jun might remember her from the bar.
When her phone finally buzzed with a new email, her hands trembled.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tapped it open.
Subject: Offer of Employment
Her breath caught.
Reading through the short but formal message, Seo-Ah's heart burst into frantic, disbelieving excitement.
She got the job.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she clutched her phone against her chest.
Finally — a break.
A real chance.
Hope.
She quickly scrambled to reply with a formal acceptance, bowing deeply to the empty room afterward in a mix of gratitude and determination.
"I'll make this work," she whispered to herself. "No matter what it takes."
---
One Week Later
Seo-Ah stood before the mirrored walls of the Lee Financial lobby, straightening her plain white blouse and black pencil skirt for the tenth time.
She had saved up just enough money to buy a few simple office outfits, and she was determined to look the part — even if every inch of her felt like an imposter.
Employees bustled past her, looking polished and confident, their designer bags and expensive shoes a stark contrast to her carefully cleaned hand-me-downs.
But Seo-Ah lifted her chin and walked forward, heart hammering.
Today was a new beginning.
She would not let fear or shame drag her down.
She was led by a junior HR assistant through a maze of glass-walled offices and marble corridors until they reached her assigned department — the Administrative Support Division.
It wasn't glamorous, but it was steady.
"Here's your desk," the assistant said brightly, pointing to a small but clean workstation near the windows.
Seo-Ah bowed low. "Thank you so much."
As she sat down and began organizing her papers, she could feel curious glances sliding toward her from nearby desks.
New employees always drew attention — but Seo-Ah felt their eyes lingering just a little too long.
Especially when Mr. Choi, the special assistant to the CEO, strolled by on his way to a meeting — pausing ever so slightly when he noticed her.
Seo-Ah pretended not to see.
She buried herself in work — reviewing spreadsheets, printing reports, running minor errands.
Blend in, she told herself. Stay quiet. Work hard. Don't make waves.
She was so focused that she didn't notice the small commotion by the elevators.
Didn't notice the way people subtly straightened up, adjusted their posture.
Didn't notice the faint electric charge filling the air — the kind that only appeared when one particular person was nearby.
---
At the other end of the hall...
Lee Min-Jun arrived for his routine building inspection — a rare appearance that always sent subtle shockwaves through the company.
He wasn't supposed to be involved in daily operations, but he prided himself on knowing every inch of his empire.
Today, he was particularly restless.
Annoyed with himself for reasons he didn't care to examine too closely.
He had told himself that last week's encounter at the bar meant nothing.
A meaningless blip.
A minor irritant.
And yet, here he was — walking these halls, feeling that same strange tug in his chest.
Mr. Choi followed him dutifully, rattling off updates.
"...the new admin hires have been placed. No major issues reported."
Min-Jun barely listened.
His gaze was sharp, scanning the floor almost unconsciously — and then it happened.
A small figure hunched over a desk, intently tapping away at her computer.
Chestnut-brown hair tumbling over her shoulders.
Slender hands working quickly and precisely.
The faintest frown of concentration between her brows.
Seo-Ah.
She hadn't noticed him.
She was completely absorbed in her work — biting her lower lip slightly as she adjusted the margins of a document.
Min-Jun's steps slowed imperceptibly.
Mr. Choi kept talking, oblivious.
"—and Director Kang mentioned that the new hires are eager and hardworking. One even volunteered to assist with the upcoming audit—"
Min-Jun's jaw tightened.
Volunteer?
Of course she did.
He forced himself to look away, to resume walking past her without pausing.
It doesn't matter, he told himself.
She's just another employee.
And yet, even after he turned the corner and disappeared from her view, a part of him remained behind — watching, unsettled.
---
Back at her desk...
Seo-Ah finally noticed the slight buzz that had passed through the floor.
She glanced around curiously.
One of the senior admins whispered to a colleague, "CEO Lee is here today. Did you see him?"
"I caught a glimpse — he's even better-looking in person..."
"So cold, though. Like an iceberg in a suit."
Seo-Ah's heart skipped.
She gripped her pen tightly, willing herself to stay focused.
It's fine. He probably doesn't even remember me.
She had to believe that.
Had to believe that she could just work hard, climb the ladder, and build a new life — without the humiliation of her drunken past catching up to her.
---
Later That Day
As she carried a heavy box of audit files toward the archive room, Seo-Ah's heel caught on a loose corner of the carpet.
She stumbled — papers flying everywhere.
"Ahh!"
She landed awkwardly on her knees, the files scattering across the polished floor like snow.
Mortified, she scrambled to gather them up, muttering apologies to no one in particular.
A pair of highly polished black shoes stopped in front of her.
Seo-Ah froze.
Slowly, hesitantly, she looked up.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Lee Min-Jun stood there, staring down at her with a completely unreadable expression.
Not cold.
Not amused.
Just... watching.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.
Seo-Ah bowed her head frantically, cheeks burning with shame.
"I-I'm sorry!" she blurted, scrambling to scoop up the papers faster.
Min-Jun knelt down suddenly — surprising her so much she froze mid-motion.
Wordlessly, he began gathering a few papers with long, graceful fingers.
Seo-Ah's heart hammered so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
When he handed the small stack back to her, his hand brushed lightly against hers.
A jolt shot through her entire body.
For a moment, she dared to glance up at him — really look at him.
He was so much more beautiful up close.
Sharp jawline.
Piercing black eyes.
A faint, almost invisible scar just below his left eyebrow — a flaw that somehow made him even more mesmerizing.
Min-Jun stared back, his face unreadable.
Seo-Ah clutched the papers tightly against her chest, bowing deeply again.
"T-thank you," she stammered.
Min-Jun said nothing.
He simply straightened up, adjusted his cufflinks casually, and walked away — as if the encounter hadn't meant a thing.
Seo-Ah knelt there, heart pounding, feeling a strange mixture of humiliation and something dangerously close to longing.