When Han came back home, he went straight to his room — but the laptop wasn't on the side table.
He looked around. Maybe he'd kept it somewhere else, but it was nowhere.
That was insane. The laptop had just disappeared.
Then it hit him. When he was getting off the lift, someone had entered — a man holding a laptop, wearing a mask and cap. Han didn't know who he was, but he was sure that guy had taken it.
He ran to security and told them someone had entered his apartment and stolen his laptop.
The guard frowned. "Sir, that's impossible. No one can enter without a passkey. Do you see that door there? Only the person holding the key can unlock it."
His patience cracked. "Do you think I'm lying? Someone entered my house and took my fucking laptop!"
The guard shrugged. "Maybe one of your friends. Maybe you left the passkey with someone — your boyfriend, perhaps? Because no one can enter that door otherwise. If someone really broke in, the security alarm would've gone off. But it didn't."
He clenched his jaw. "He wasn't my friend. I saw him in the lift. Can we check the camera footage?"
"Sorry, sir," the guard said, bored. "We can't. Company policy. File a complaint if you want access. Or talk to the head of security."
He didn't argue. He knew these people only cared about reputation, not truth.
When he went back home, he searched every corner for clues — but nothing was moved except that missing laptop.
It made his chest tighten. He wasn't even safe in his own home. In his own room.
He sat down and thought,
"Was it Seungmin? Did he plan all this — that fight, the distraction — just to keep me away? No… if he wanted it, he could've taken it long ago. Then who? Mr. Jaehan? He knew I used that laptop that day. Could he have sent someone? But why? There were only two files — the hotel project and the 'memories' folder…"
His breath hitched.
Because that second folder was for him.
"That bastard. Mr. Jaehan… he did this. He used that laptop to expose him so I can destroy Seungmin."
Jiwoo's words echoed:
'He's having a hard time. Mr. Choi's going to make it worse for him.'
Han froze.
Maybe they wanted his scandal to explode — so the contract would collapse and Seungmin would fall with it. Two birds, one stone.
He thought " I have hurt that Mr.choi killed his wife. And the rumours that Seungmin is not his biological son. Maybe then he is really not his son. And that's why he wanted to get rid of him by using me.
Then, silence. The room felt too small, too dark, like it was swallowing him whole.
He couldn't stay there anymore.
He grabbed his jacket and left, wandering aimlessly until he ended up at a café.
He stayed there that night, afraid to go home.
That went on for four days.
He'd go back only to shower, buy new clothes, then leave again. Even stepping inside made him feel like the walls were closing in, ready to crush him.
One evening, the barista — a quiet man he'd known for years — noticed.
"Are you okay? You've been sleeping here every night."
Han smiled weakly. "It's just… quiet at home. I can't sleep alone."
"Then don't," the man said. "Come to my house. It's only two streets away. I've got three sisters. They'll keep you busy."
Han hesitated. "Can I?"
"Why not? You're my best customer. And sleeping in the cold won't help those wounds."
So Han agreed.