4:00 a.m.
The city slept under a pale, breathless sky.
Dew bloomed along wet asphalt like soft-spilled ink, its scent mingling with crushed grass and the salt of far-off seas.
From that hushed landscape, the elevator rose—a vessel of silence breaching the 20th floor.
Ding—
The doors parted.
A man staggered out, shadow-draped and limping.
Noah.
He leaned heavily on Howard's arm, the other hand clutching Steve's shoulder.
Between them, he moved like a specter stitched back together by sheer will, step after fragile step.
And just ahead, one pace ahead of them all, Celeste.
Her face unreadable, her stride swift.
She reached the door first.
The master key turned.
Click.
And then—
"Celeste!"
"You're okay?!"
Two voices broke the stillness like breath held too long.
Daniel—rumpled shirt thrown hastily over a black tee.
Jinwoo—hair disheveled, grey knit slung over loungewear.
Neither had shaved.
Both wore shadows like second skin beneath their eyes.
They'd been waiting. All night.
Their eyes found her first—her tattered clothes, her dried blood.
Then—Noah.
His thigh bandaged, shirt clinging to a body too still, and eyes sunk deep in a silence not even pain could pierce.
Two seconds.
That's all it took for disbelief to turn to dread.
And for dread to dissolve into something rawer, quieter, more dangerous.
Questions filled their eyes—none spoken.
Daniel pressed his palm to his forehead.
"Steve,"
Celeste said gently, not looking back.
"Thank you. You've done enough."
Steve nodded silently and left, fading into the dim hallway.
Howard lingered—until Celeste touched his shoulder lightly.
"You too. Rest. I'll call when I need you again."
"…Yes."
And then he was gone.
Inside, the tension thickened like the sky before a storm.
Celeste reached to help Noah again—but two shadows stepped in simultaneously.
"I've got him."
Daniel and Jinwoo. Wordless.
One under each of Noah's arms, familiar as breath.
Noah winced, but chuckled.
"Look at these bastards. Not a word about me. All they care about is you."
Celeste exhaled the tiniest smile.
Daniel sighed. Jinwoo did too.
The living room held its breath as Celeste began.
The story—the one Noah and I chose to tell—it isn't the truth. Not all of it.
But it isn't a betrayal.
We crafted it not from fear, but from necessity.
Not because we didn't trust them, but because trust alone doesn't shield people from the fallout of truth.
"We met someone from the media team tonight. Unofficial. Fast-track channel."
A beat.
"On our way back, a man approached. Armed."
The silence snapped taut.
"Noah stepped in front of me."
Her voice didn't falter—only her hands. Her gaze remained steady.
"He was stabbed. The wound was deep."
Daniel's fists clenched on his knees.
Jinwoo inhaled sharply.
"…And the man?" he asked quietly.
"Handled. Steve and Howard took care of it."
Noah sat on the couch now, one leg stretched.
Despite the tension, his mouth curved.
"See? Even now—no one's asking if I'm okay."
And finally—finally, laughter found its way into the room.
A crack in the wall.
Daniel's voice, quiet but commanding
"You rest. I'll handle everything. And if you so much as leave this floor—security doubles."
Jinwoo added, "For once… I agree."
Celeste gave a slight nod, her voice barely above a breath—as if inscribing each word into air rather than paper.
"Also… the security team who was with me today. Steve, Howard… make sure they receive a special bonus. And a few days' rest. They more than earned it."
Daniel let out a faint chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Only you would still be managing payroll after a night like this." He exhaled softly.
"I'll take care of it. Don't worry. You'll get a full report."
Celeste turned toward Jinwoo, her gaze gentler now.
"Jinwoo… I should've been there when you arrived. I should've called, explained, said something—anything. But I didn't. And for all of it… I'm sorry."
Jinwoo stepped forward, lifting a hand as if to wave the words away.
"Are you seriously apologizing to me right now?"
He glanced toward Noah, stretched out on the couch, leg still heavily bandaged.
"With this going on? If you'd texted me like nothing was wrong, that would've freaked me out more."
He gave a soft, breathless laugh.
"I'm the one who's sorry. I was calling nonstop like a maniac—I thought Noah had kidnapped you or something."
A small smile tugged at Celeste's lips—a flicker of amusement that couldn't quite chase the weight behind her eyes.
But even in that moment of levity, the guilt pressed silently against her ribs.Heavy. Wordless. A kind of sorrow not even apologies could smooth away.
Noah smirked, dragging his voice in mock offense.
"Kidnap her? Come on. I'm injured, not stupid."
Then, with a low breath of laughter—
"I get stabbed, and still no one checks on me. Unreal."
A soft, collective breath settled the room.
Then Celeste spoke again—gently, carefully.
"…If it's alright with all of you… I'd like Noah to stay here. Just for a while. On the 20th floor."
The silence that followed was instant.
"…What?"
Daniel said first.
Jinwoo frowned.
Noah blinked, speechless.
Celeste's voice remained soft, steady.
"The maid's room… it's empty."
Her gaze hesitated for a moment, hovering in the space between uncertainty and resolve.
But when she continued, her tone held quiet conviction.
"It's smaller. Less comfortable than the staff suite you've been using on the 15th floor, I know. But for now—until you've healed, until the stitches settle and the pain fades—I think it's the safest place."
She drew in a breath, then added, almost gently:
"The doctors can come more easily. And the maids… they'll be close enough to help if you need anything."
Daniel sighed.
"…If that's what you want."
Jinwoo gave a reluctant nod, his arms crossed tight against his chest.
"Fine. But once you're healed, you're out. No extensions."
Noah offered a languid shrug, his movements slow but deliberate, the corner of his mouth curving into a wry, half-formed smile.
"Trust me," he murmured, voice edged with sardonic ease,
"I had no intention of lingering in your gilded palace, Your Highness."
And just like that, the tension—so thick it could've splintered the air—began to dissolve.
The wounds still throbbed, still whispered beneath the surface.
But for the moment, the storm had passed.
For now.