The staff lined up neatly in the side room, trays balanced, uniforms crisp. The manager paced in front of them like a drill sergeant.
"Keep your eyes down. Walk with precision. No talking to the guests unless spoken to. And remember, this is the Yoon Foundation's gala. If you embarrass me, you embarrass this company. Don't test me tonight."
Jun-ho adjusted his gloves, tray steady in his hand. His expression didn't waver, though a low hum of tension sat in his chest. Not because of the glittering crowd outside--he'd seen more than his share of wealth in another lifetime--but because of the name emblazoned across the banners: Yoon Engineering & Construction.
The company he dreamed of joining. The one chance he had to make his own name, free from the shadow of the family he'd left behind.
"Hyung," Se-jeong whispered at his side, nearly bouncing in place, "this is insane. Do you know how many top firms will be here? And Yoon E&C's CEO... she's attending tonight! Can you believe we'll be in the same room as her?"
Jun-ho gave a short grunt. "We're in the room to serve drinks, not to network."
"You're impossible," Se-jeong muttered, shaking his head with a grin.
The ballroom doors swung open, and the wave of laughter, perfume, and music washed over them. Wealth dripped from every corner--diamond necklaces catching the chandelier light, crisp tuxedos, polite laughter edged with cruelty.
Jun-ho moved silently among them, head lowered, the tray in his hand balanced without a tremor. He'd lived this world once. He knew its venom, its smiles.
But the crest above the ballroom--the silver-and-blue of the Yoon Foundation--pulled at him differently. This wasn't about luxury. This was about steel, glass, and ambition. About the future he wanted to build.
The announcer's voice carried above the hum of conversation.
"Vice Chairman Yoon Tae-han of Yoon Foundation, his wife CEO Yi Soo-bin of Yoon Luxuries, and their children."
Polite applause followed as Jun-ho's classmate, Yoon Jae-han, strutted in with the self-assurance of someone who had never been denied anything. His twin sister trailed beside him, equally polished, equally smug. Their parents followed-perfect pictures of prestige.
"CEO Yoon Ji-an of Yoon Biotech and pharmaceuticals, her husband COO Kang Jimin of Yoon Biotech and pharmaceuticals and their son Kang Ji-sung COO of Yoon Engineering and Construction." The announcer continued but only 2 people processed in.
"Chairman Yoon Dae-Han-"
The room stilled. All heads turned. The weight of expectation hung thick in the air.
But then the announcer cleared his throat quickly. "Represented tonight by CEO Yoon Ha-eun of Yoon Engineering & Construction."
A ripple passed through the ballroom.
She entered with deliberate poise, each step measured, heels striking the floor with soft authority. She wore a jumpsuit of deep navy, understated but commanding, her hair pinned back to frame the sharpness of her features.
For a moment, silence stretched-then whispers began to stir.
"So it's true, she's standing in his place now..."
"The illegitimate one. Bold of the Chairman to send her."
"Still... impressive, isn't she? To be that young and run the biggest subsidiary..."
"Her mother was a maid, wasn't she?"
Jun-ho kept his eyes trained on his tray, but his peripheral vision betrayed him, catching the way her chin tilted slightly higher as the whispers brushed past.
Beside him, Se-jeong nearly dropped his own tray. His eyes shone like a child at a concert.
"Hyung," he whispered fiercely, "that's her! Yoon Ha-eun! She's my role model. Do you know she graduated top of her class twice? People said she was too young to handle E&C, but she's already signed off on over ten major city projects. And look at her-she's gorgeous too! How can one person be like that?"
Jun-ho gave him a side glance. "You sound like you're about to faint."
"I might," Se-jeong whispered reverently. "She's even better in person."
Jun-ho exhaled through his nose, turning away. He wasn't interested in gods or idols. She was impressive, yes, but she was another untouchable name on a crest-untouchable to someone like him.
Still, he couldn't quite ignore the way her entrance had shifted the room, the quiet storm she carried simply by walking in.
And for the first time that night, he felt that knot in his chest pull a little tighter.
The moment her name was announced, the air shifted.
Ha-eun felt it like static against her skin-the pause, the whispers rising like insects in the dark.
Represented tonight by CEO Yoon Ha-eun of Yoon Engineering & Construction.
Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she crossed the threshold. She held her chin high, her spine straight, her breath measured. The jumpsuit she wore wasn't ostentatious; she'd never had the stomach for theatrics. Navy silk, tailored to perfection, a thin silver belt at her waist. Power was best worn quietly-it unnerved people more that way.
Still, she could hear them.
Illegitimate child.
Her mother was a maid, wasn't she?
Why would the Chairman send her?
She's so young... too young.
But she looks... formidable.
Her gaze swept the crowd once, sharp and cold. Enough to remind them she heard, she saw, and she didn't care. Then she walked past, expression blank, eyes fixed on the dais.
Her father stood in the crowd, shoulders stiff, mouth a thin line. His wife, Soo-bin, wore her usual sugar-sweet smile, though her eyes glittered with disdain. Her step-siblings were whispering behind barely-covered hands.
Not that any of them mattered.
She had walked into rooms like this since she was a teenager. She knew what they thought of her. The illegitimate stain. The maid's daughter. A fluke.
But she was also the CEO of the Foundation's largest company. The one whose projects brought in the most revenue, the most prestige, the most headlines.
She took her place at the table reserved for her grandfather's household, settling into the chair with effortless grace.
The music resumed, conversation picking up again. The whispers didn't stop, but they softened, melting back into the gilded air.
Ha-eun took a deep breath, her eyes flicking across the table. Father. Step-mother. Her step-siblings whispering and smirking. Aunt Ji-an and her polished husband. And then-
An empty chair.
Her brows furrowed faintly. "Ji-sung isn't attending?" she asked, tone light but tinged with curiosity. Her cousin rarely missed events like this.
Before anyone could answer, movement caught her eye.
A man in his early thirties approached, his posture straight, his suit cut sharp in a shade of slate grey. He had the face of someone used to boardrooms, confident but not overbearing. Without hesitation, he slid into the empty seat beside her.
Ha-eun blinked once, puzzled. Her gaze shifted to her father.
"Allow me to introduce," Yoon Tae-han said smoothly, his lips curling into something between pride and calculation, "Director Park Jun-ik of Stable hands Architectural Group."
The name clicked immediately. Stable hands was one of the top design firms in the country, their projects often featured alongside Yoon Engineering's. Ha-eun had seen his name in reports, though never in person.
She inclined her head slightly, her voice polite, even warm. "I've heard much about you, Director Park. It's an honor to finally meet."
Jun-ik returned the gesture with a professional smile, his tone equally courteous. "The honor is mine, CEO Yoon. Your reputation precedes you."
Before the exchange could settle into simple formality, her father's voice cut through, cool and commanding.
"Jun-ik is to be your husband. I expect you two will begin meeting to arrange the details of your wedding."
The words hit like a blade slipped under the ribs.
Ha-eun's fingers stilled against the stem of her glass. Slowly, she turned to her father, her expression carefully blank, though her chest tightened.
Normally, these charades followed a pattern. They paraded men before her, whispered expectations. She directed them to Oh Se-mi, her secretary, and none of them ever made it past the gate she had built.
But this? To bring him here. To announce it like it was already sealed.
A quiet scoff escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Her head turned back to Jun-ik, and though her voice was soft, her smile even gentle, the steel beneath was unmistakable. "I apologize, Director Park, but I am not interested in marriage."
A sharp intake of breath came from across the table. Her father's eyes narrowed into a glare, his voice dropping, low and dangerous. "Your opinion is not needed in this matter."
That broke her silence. Her chin lifted, eyes flashing as she snapped back. "Not needed? I am the one expected to spend a lifetime with a stranger, not you. If that is your standard, perhaps you should marry him yourself."
The table stilled. Soo-bin's sweet mask faltered into something sharp. The twins gaped openly. Aunt Ji-an pressed her lips together, hiding what might have been the shadow of amusement.
Ha-eun didn't wait for the storm. She stood abruptly, chair scraping softly against marble.
Her gaze swept once across the table, then landed on Jun-ik. She offered him a polite, almost apologetic smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Director Park. Truly."
And with that, she turned, heels echoing as she strode out of the hall.
The whispers rose again, this time louder, sharper, as her figure disappeared through the doors.
And that was the moment her night began to unravel.
__________________
Jun-ho leaned against the cool tiled wall of the bathroom, dragging a hand down his face. The laughter and clinking of glasses outside felt miles away. He fished out his phone, hoping for a moment's peace, but the screen lit up with his landlady's name.
He hesitated, then answered.
"Mr. Kang," her voice snapped, sharp as ever. "It's already the twentieth. Do you know what that means?"
Jun-ho swallowed, guilt bubbling in his chest. "Yes, ma'am. I—I'm so sorry. I promise, I'll have it by the end of the week."
"You've said that before."
"I mean it this time. I just—things are tight. But I'll come through. Please, just a little more time."
A sigh crackled through the line. "End of the week. No later."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. Really, thank you."
He ended the call, exhaling heavily as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. His life was a balancing act he barely managed to keep from toppling.
Shaking his head, he straightened his jacket and moved toward the door. He pushed it open just as another echoed open behind him—the ladies' bathroom. He caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision but didn't think much of it.
Until—
A muffled sound. A sharp scrape of heels against marble.
Jun-ho froze, turning his head. The hallway was empty. Too empty.
His brows knitted, but after a beat of silence, he shook it off. Probably just one of the drunken guests stumbling around. He sighed and continued on, shoulders hunched.
Behind him, Yoon Ha-eun's world tilted.
A hand had clamped over her mouth, the sharp sting of chemicals searing her lungs as she inhaled through the handkerchief. She thrashed against the grip, her elbow jabbing back hard, earning a grunt from the man behind her. Desperation surged through her veins.
With practiced force, she shifted her weight and threw him over her shoulder, sending him crashing to the floor. But her chest burned, her limbs heavy—the drug already seeping into her bloodstream.
She staggered forward, tearing the suffocating cloth from her face, her voice raw as she screamed. "Help! Somebody—!"
A hand fisted in her hair, yanking her back mid-stride. She cried out, nails clawing at his wrist until her fingers came away bloody from the scratches.
"Shut up!" the man snarled, dragging her toward the dim glow of the indoor swimming area. His words vibrated with fury.
Her nails dug in harder. He grunted, then backhanded her across the face. The world spun, white heat flashing behind her eyes.
She barely registered the sound of fabric tearing until cool air brushed her skin. The top of her jumpsuit dangled in shreds.
The man sneered, breath heavy. "Thought you were untouchable, huh?" His fingers hooked at her bra strap, tugging.
Ha-eun fought, twisting and kicking, but her strength was waning. Another slap landed, sending her sprawling onto the tiles.
Tears welled and slipped free, hot trails down her cheeks. Her grandfather's face rose in her mind, his rare smile, the warmth in his eyes. Grandfather… I'm sorry. I couldn't—
The tiles were cold against her skin, the world still spinning from the drugged cloth pressed to her face. Ha-eun's voice cracked as she screamed for help, throat burning, words breaking into sobs that barely echoed past the swimming hall.
The man loomed closer again, teeth gritted in anger—until a blur slammed into him, dragging him sideways. Both men crashed to the ground beside the pool, fists flying, the dull thud of knuckles against flesh echoing in the humid air.
Ha-eun's vision swam as she tried to crawl away, but she couldn't look away from the scene before her. The stranger—a young man she didn't recognize—fought with raw desperation. No technique, no polish, just sheer willpower and fury as he threw himself at her attacker.
The man grunted, managing to shove the stranger off with one brutal push. His eyes darted around, weighing his odds. Then, without another word, he turned and bolted for the exit, footsteps echoing before fading into silence.
Ha-eun's chest heaved. Relief was short-lived.
The stranger turned back toward her. His dark hair clung to his forehead with sweat, his breaths ragged. He hesitated only a second before stripping off his shirt in one swift motion.
"Hey—hey, you're okay." His voice was low, steady, nothing like the panic clawing at her chest. He crouched, gently draping the fabric over her trembling body, his hand supporting her back as he tapped her cheek softly. "Stay with me. Can you hear me?"
Her vision cleared just enough for her to make out his face. Not someone she knew. Not someone she trusted.
"Stay back!" she screamed, shoving him away with all the strength she could muster. She staggered to her feet, swaying, clutching the shirt desperately against her chest.
He raised his hands, palms open in surrender. "I'm not going to hurt you. The guy's gone. You're safe now."
Her heel caught her eye—lying discarded nearby. She snatched it up, holding it out like a weapon, arm shaking. "Don't come closer!"
"I won't," he said quickly, voice calm but breathless. "I promise. Just… breathe, okay? I can leave if you want, but you should call for help and a new dress."
Confused, she glanced down. The oversized shirt engulfed her frame, slipping off one shoulder. She blinked, then froze—her gaze lifting back to him. He was shirtless now, the pale light of the pool revealing tattoos that curled across his chest and shoulder, scars etched along his ribs like faded memories of violence.
Her stomach twisted in fear. She stumbled backward—too far.
The world tilted. Her foot slipped.
A scream tore from her throat as she toppled into the pool, the cold water swallowing her whole.
"No—!"
She thrashed wildly, lungs burning, arms flailing in blind terror. Water filled her mouth, and suddenly she wasn't twenty-seven anymore. She was five. A small girl sinking in the pool, choking while laughter echoed above her. Her cousin's shadow standing still at the edge, not moving, not helping.
Her chest seized. Grandpa… help me!
And then arms were around her. Strong, unyielding, pulling her up. Breaking the surface.
She clung desperately, nails digging into bare skin, sobs tearing from her chest as she buried her face against the stranger's shoulder. For a heartbeat—for one breathless, trembling moment—she saw only her grandfather in his place, rescuing her again.
Jun-ho tightened his hold, ignoring the sting of her grip, his shirt clinging wetly to her in tatters. He stepped out of the pool, water streaming off them both, settling her carefully against his chest.
"You're okay," he murmured, one hand braced at her back, the other patting gently, steadily. His voice was a low rumble, grounding her even as her tears soaked into his skin. "You're safe now. I've got you."
And though every nerve screamed at him to look away, to not notice the fragile, trembling form pressed half-naked against him, he stayed still. Strong. Steady. Pretending not to notice how tightly she held on.