Six months ago

The dry, heated air of the Namyoung Group headquarters did little to warm the chill Ye-jin had carried in from the street. She pulled off her leather gloves as the glass doors slid shut, muffling the sounds of a grey Seoul winter. Her low heels made a soft, decisive click-clack on the polished marble floor—a sound that seemed too loud, too intrusive in the vast, hushed lobby. A young man at the security desk looked up, his expression shifting from professional neutrality to a jolt of startled recognition before he quickly averted his eyes. 

She was the elusive madam—a nickname bestowed by the employees—here to sign her own release. The elevator ride to the legal department was a silent blur of brushed steel and her own reflection, bundled in a dark coat. Despite being the wife of Kim Jun-bo, the Chairman’s heir apparent, she had visited this office only a handful of times in her married life—only when protocol demanded a visible, wifely appearance. The trophy wife, and nothing more. 

“This concludes the separation of assets and the conditions of the divorce,” the lawyer stated. “You are not to disclose any details regarding the family or information you obtained while married to Kim Jun-bo to anyone outside the family. As compensation, you will retain the Tokyo penthouse by Odaiba Bay.”

She’d never cared much for material things, but Do-yun insisted she take what was rightfully hers—compensation for five years of a suffocating marriage. The only possession she truly treasured was the Tokyo apartment. It’d become her refuge, particularly in the final years. Originally their home when Jun-bo was assigned to lead the Japanese market expansion, the penthouse offered Ye-jin something unexpected: solitude. His frequent business trips back to Seoul granted her precious reprieves from his relentless physical and mental abuse.

She collected her purse, thanked her lawyers, and stepped out into the reception lobby to press the elevator button. Thankfully, most employees had already left for lunch, leaving the space somewhat deserted. Rumors about the divorce had swirled for months. She could feel the weight of curious stares as she waited, head held high, for the elevator to arrive.

That was when she noticed Min-hyun.

His look was boyish; his smile, universal. He’d just stepped out of an adjacent conference room, a small briefcase in hand, bidding farewell to two gentlemen. He seemed pleased. Catching her eye as he moved to wait for the elevator beside her, he offered a slight, polite bow, then flashed a genuine, radiant smile. A rush of adrenaline warmed her cheeks. She nodded, avoiding his gaze, but he appeared already lost in his own thoughts, giving her no further notice. His phone rang.

“Jong-soo! You were right! We won the bid! Let’s celebrate with the team—I’ll fill you in when I get back,” he answered excitedly before hanging up.

The elevator doors slid open. He held them for a brief moment, inviting her to enter first. She nodded her thanks and stepped in. He followed, standing beside her. He was tall—at least 185 cm, she reckoned. His dark grey suit wasn’t the latest cut, but he wore it well. Underneath, a white shirt and a crimson tie, neither flashy nor gaudy. Something about him made her heart flutter.

The elevator stopped on the twentieth floor. A crowd of scruffy men and tight-lipped women pushed their way in, muttering about superiors who had kept them from lunch. They crammed into every available space, pressing Min-hyun toward the corner where Ye-jin stood. His shoulder brushed hers as his hand grazed her fingers—just for a moment, but enough to send a current up her spine. He offered a small nod in apology, then shifted a careful half step away, leaving barely a breath of space between them. The closeness, slight as it was, raised goosebumps along her arms.

The elevator finally stopped on the ground floor. The lunch crowd rushed out, nearly trampling one another in their haste. But Min-hyun waited, gesturing for her to step out first, though she could sense he was eager to return to his office and celebrate his good news. With another polite nod in her direction, he then sprinted off across the spacious lobby.

Just like that, he was gone.

She felt suddenly childish and silly—a tiny, secret part of her had wished for the elevator to stall.

She tucked that memory away, a secret reminder of a time when a stranger’s smile sparked something other than dread. She never imagined that fleeting encounter would be the pivot in which her new life began to turn.

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