For a long time, Han Sooah believed what everyone told her.
She believed she was recovering.
She believed the strange gaps in her memory were simply side effects of exhaustion.
She believed the calm, careful routine of her days was a temporary measure meant to help her heal.
But eventually, something inside her began to resist the illusion.
It started with small inconsistencies.
Tiny things that did not match the version of reality she had been given.
And Sooah had never been the type of person who ignored inconsistencies.
Even now.
Even when her own mind betrayed her.
The First Suspicion
The realization came quietly one afternoon.
The house was silent. Sunlight filtered through the enormous windows of the Kang residence, casting pale gold across the polished floors.
Sooah sat alone on the couch.
Her head felt clearer than usual.
Moments like this were rare now—periods when her thoughts aligned properly, when the fog receded and her mind felt almost like it used to.
She glanced toward the kitchen counter where her phone rested.
Then toward the glass of water beside the medication Daehyun had left for her.
She picked up one of the pills slowly.
Doctor's orders.
Rest.
Recovery.
That was the explanation she had been given.
But something about the pills had begun to bother her.
Because she always felt… strange after taking them.
Heavy.
Like sleep was dragging her downward whether she wanted it or not.
Her eyes moved back to the phone.
Then back to the pill.
Slowly, carefully, she placed the tablet in her mouth.
She lifted the glass.
Took a sip.
And then—without swallowing—she quietly slipped the pill into her palm.
She walked to the sink.
Turned on the faucet.
And let the pill disappear down the drain.
For the first time in weeks, she would remain awake.
The Phone
Sooah returned to the couch and picked up her phone.
Her fingers hesitated slightly before opening the notes application.
At first she thought she had opened the wrong screen.
Because the page was filled with writing.
Lines and lines of text.
Dozens of entries.
Notes she did not remember writing.
Her heartbeat slowed.
She began reading.
Note Entry 1
If you are reading this and don't remember writing it, do not panic.You are losing memory periodically.
Her hand trembled slightly.
She scrolled.
Note Entry 4
Daehyun says it's stress.But I don't believe him anymore.
Note Entry 9
I woke up today and didn't remember the last three days.Daehyun looked exhausted.
Note Entry 14
Something is wrong with my medication.It makes me sleep too deeply.
Her breathing became shallow.
But it was the most recent entry that made her entire body go still.
Note Entry 23
If you feel clear today, investigate.Something about our life is not what it seems.
Sooah slowly lowered the phone.
Her gaze drifted across the quiet living room.
The house she had lived in for years suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Like a stage set for a life she could no longer fully remember.
The Man She Didn't Recognize
Her thoughts drifted to Daehyun.
The man she had married.
The man who now lived beside her every day.
Except…
Something about him felt different.
She stood and walked toward the large family photographs along the hallway wall.
Old pictures.
Memories captured from happier years.
And there—clear as day—was the difference.
In the photos, Daehyun looked completely different.
Soft.
Round.
Morbidly overweight.
His cheeks full, his body heavy with the comfortable weight he had always carried during their university years at Harvard University.
But the man living in the house now—
Was nothing like that.
Now his body was lean.
Sharp.
His shoulders broad and sculpted.
His jawline defined.
Even his posture had changed.
The lazy boy who once spent entire afternoons playing games had become someone far more… composed.
And dangerously attractive.
Sooah frowned slightly.
How had she not noticed the transformation sooner?
The Absence of Normality
The more she thought about it, the stranger everything seemed.
Daehyun's behavior.
The strict routine.
The constant tiredness in his eyes.
And the fact that he never left the house during the day.
For a man who was supposed to be aimless and carefree, something about his life felt tightly controlled.
Her gaze moved down the hallway.
Toward a door she rarely opened.
Daehyun's "study."
Except—
It hadn't always been a study.
Her memory flickered.
It had once been his gaming room.
The place where he kept consoles, massive screens, and shelves full of games.
Curiosity pulled her forward.
The Room That Had Changed
The moment Sooah opened the door, she stopped.
Because the room was nothing like she remembered.
The massive gaming monitors were gone.
In their place stood rows of sleek screens displaying financial data and corporate reports.
A long desk filled with organized documents.
Multiple computers.
Strategic charts.
And shelves stacked with files.
This wasn't a gaming room anymore.
This was a war room.
Sooah stepped inside slowly.
Her fingers brushed across the desk surface.
Everything looked… professional.
Purposeful.
And deeply secretive.
Then something else caught her attention.
At the far corner of the room stood a tall storage cabinet.
Locked.
Her instincts sharpened immediately.
The Hidden Closet
It took only a few minutes for Sooah to find the key.
Daehyun had hidden it carefully—but not carefully enough for someone who had spent years studying business negotiations and corporate strategy.
When the cabinet door finally opened, she froze.
Because inside were stacks of medical reports.
Dozens of them.
Her name printed across every page.
Han Sooah.
Neurological evaluations.
Brain scans.
Clinical observations.
She picked up one file.
And began reading.
The words hit her like cold water.
Progressive episodic retrograde amnesia.
Memory loss.
Unpredictable cognitive fractures.
Behavioral instability during episodes.
Recommended sedation during severe periods.
Sooah's fingers trembled.
This wasn't stress.
This was something far worse.
The Corporate Documents
But the medical reports weren't the only things in the cabinet.
There were also corporate files.
Board documents.
Strategic reports.
She opened one folder.
And felt her entire body go still.
Because the document was a leadership profile.
From Hanseong Holdings.
The name listed beneath "Director" was unmistakable.
Kang Daehyun.
She stared at the page in disbelief.
Her mind struggled to process what she was seeing.
Daehyun?
A director of Hanseong?
That made no sense.
He had never shown interest in corporate work.
Not once.
Her hands moved quickly to the next file.
Another leadership structure chart.
This one from KGI Group.
And this time the shock was even greater.
Because under the executive leadership section—
Vice Chairman: Kang Daehyun.
Sooah's breath caught.
Vice Chairman?
Her heart began beating faster.
She moved back toward the desk and quickly opened her phone again.
The Search
Her fingers typed the company name into the search bar.
The official corporate profile page of Hanseong Holdings appeared instantly.
She scrolled down to the leadership section.
And there he was.
A professional photograph.
Kang Daehyun.
Director.
The picture showed him wearing a dark suit.
His expression calm.
His eyes sharp and focused.
Nothing like the carefree young man she remembered marrying.
Her chest tightened.
Then she opened the corporate page of KGI Group.
And saw the second confirmation.
Vice Chairman.
Kang Daehyun.
Meanwhile—
Her own name appeared further down the page.
Alternate Director — Status: Inactive.
Sooah slowly lowered the phone.
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
Too heavy.
Because the truth was becoming painfully clear.
The life she thought she was living—
The peaceful break from work…
The quiet recovery at home…
None of it was real.
While she slept.
While her memory fractured.
While she believed everything was fine—
Daehyun had been carrying everything.
Both companies.
Their entire family.
Their entire future.
Alone.
The Man Outside the Door
At that exact moment, the front door of the house quietly opened.
Daehyun stepped inside.
His shoulders tense from another exhausting night at Hanseong Holdings.
He loosened his tie slightly as he stepped into the hallway.
But then he noticed something unusual.
The light in his study was on.
His footsteps slowed.
And a strange feeling crept into his chest.
Because that door was always locked.
Except for him.
Slowly, cautiously, he walked toward it.
Inside the room—
Sooah stood frozen beside the open cabinet.
Medical reports scattered across the desk.
Corporate files in her hands.
Her phone still displaying the company leadership page.
And for the first time since her illness began—
She understood everything.