“Where have you been? Why are you so late?”

The moment she stepped into the kitchen, the floor manager shot her a sharp glare, her eyes narrowed like a hawk’s.

She had only stepped out to use the restroom for a moment.

However, after being stopped by a man in the hallway, she ended up taking much longer than intended.

“I’m sorry.”

“Go and clean that up now.”

The manager jabbed a finger towards one corner of the kitchen and snapped impatiently.

Ji-an hurried over, pulled the pink rubber gloves from her back pocket, and put them on.

Before her stood a mountain of dirty dishes, all recently cleared from one of the rooms.

‘Sigh…’

She hadn’t even started work yet, yet she was already breathing heavily.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a job that finished this late.

Eventually, she confided in an older colleague at the restaurant where she worked during the day, explaining her situation.

The woman mentioned that the club was hiring and put her forward for the position.

It was a night shift that started after she finished work at the restaurant: from 10.30 pm to 5 am. Tonight was her first shift.

What’s more, the pay was double for overnight hours.

With that kind of pay rate, Ji-an didn’t need to think twice.

Since it was a graveyard shift with double the hourly wage, she accepted the job immediately.

None of the dishes had been touched. The food had barely been touched — some plates looked as if no one had taken even a single bite.

‘Some people can barely afford to put food on the table, yet here they are throwing away dishes that cost hundreds of thousands of won.’

It felt like such a waste. But Ji-an couldn’t eat any of it either.

She carefully scraped the untouched food into the nearby waste bin. Just as she reached for one of the larger plates—

“Ah…!”

Crash!

The plate slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor with a loud, splintering clatter.

The noisy kitchen fell suddenly silent.

Startled and flustered, Ji-an immediately bowed deeply towards the staff, who were now staring in her direction.

“I—I’m so sorry.”

She crouched down quickly and began picking up the shards with her bare hands.

The plate had been heavy, but now she was sitting still, she realised her wrist was throbbing with a dull ache — it must have been twisted when that man dragged her.

“Tch! She’s not much of a worker, is she?”

The floor manager clicked his tongue behind her, shaking his head in open disapproval.

Ji-an had never heard such words at any previous job. Maybe it was because she was anxious.

But today, everything felt wrong. Nothing was going right.

And after what had happened earlier…

Her heart was still pounding. Her lips were dry, as if all the moisture had vanished.

“……”

For a moment, Ji-an’s hands froze as she continued to drop shards into a bag.

She had only caught a glimpse, but that face! She was sure she had seen it before.

Where had she seen it?

The dim hallway lighting had made it difficult to make out the man’s features clearly.

Truthfully, she’d been too frightened to get a good look.

‘But why did he seem so familiar…?’

As she tried to remember, Ji-an continued collecting the shattered pieces.

After a while, however, she shook her head slightly.

Men like him — those who frequented places as upmarket as this — lived in a completely different world to hers.

He must just resemble someone she knew before. That was all.

“Are you going to clean that up all night?!”

The floor manager’s harsh voice rang out again.

Startled, Ji-an quickly tidied up and bowed repeatedly.

“I’m sorry.”

Muttering her apologies, she moved to the sink and began washing the dishes.

As she lifted a plate, she made a mental note to stop at a pharmacy on the way home to buy a pain patch for her wrist.

***

Tok. Tok. Tok.

Se-hyeon lounged in his chair, tapping his index finger on the desk.

It had been like this for days, a sensation akin to a splinter beneath the surface of his thoughts. Most of the time, he felt nothing, but then, without warning, the sensation would intensify and demand his attention.

Whenever he was about to forget, the woman’s face would resurface… and resurface again.

The problem was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember where he had seen her before.

“Some memory I have… Damn it!”

The hazy afterimage of her face kept clawing at his mind, leaving his nerves perpetually on edge.

Had he known it would bother him this much, he would have swallowed his pride and asked her outright. It was simple enough, but the near-recognition, just out of reach, frustrated him to no end.

A face white as flour… Those black eyes rolling in terror, as if she might cry at any moment.

Had he ever met a woman like that before? Someone from a place so far removed from his own world? And yet she seemed so familiar.

“E-excuse me, Executive Director…”

Someone beside him spoke, but Se-hyeon merely scowled and kept his gaze fixed on the screen in front of him. Unsure what had displeased him, the executives exchanged anxious glances.

“Ahem, Executive Director—”

“Ah!”

A sudden exclamation burst from his lips. The secretary hovering nearby flinched at the sharp sound, startled out of her skin.

“Ha… that’s it.”

Now he remembered.

It had taken him this long, but the memory finally came into sharp focus.

The meeting was so brief that it could easily have been overlooked. It lasted barely five minutes, if that. No wonder it hadn’t come to mind. It all made perfect sense now.

“This meeting is over. That’s it for today.”

Se-hyeon stood up abruptly and walked out of the conference room without another word.

Her sudden departure left the office in an uneasy silence, which quickly turned into a flurry of whispers.

What was going on with the Executive Director today?

***

“Yoo Ji-an…”

Se-hyeon stared at the document Tae-hoon had just handed him.

There was a neat ID photo.

Next to it was the name of the woman: Yoo Ji-an.

That was right. Yoo Ji-an.

The daughter of the man who had helped him.

The daughter of firefighter Yoo In-hwan.

His name had been listed among the bereaved, but amid all the chaos, it hadn’t registered until now.

He remembered how, the first time he saw her, her name had felt strangely perfect—like it truly belonged to her.

On that day, he could barely stand, and he had to rely on a bodyguard just to make it to the memorial hall. Despite the pain and medication, he had noticed her.

Now that the memory had come flooding back, he could recall every detail of that moment with startling clarity.

“The place she’s renting now? She’s already used up the entire deposit. She’s behind on the rent, too. At this rate, she’ll probably be forced out soon.”

As the chief secretary spoke, Se-hyeon flipped through the pages of Yoo Ji-an’s personal file.

From the moment he recognised her, he had ordered Tae-hoon to investigate everything — he needed confirmation that the girl from the hallway was indeed Yoo Ji-an, etched into his memory.

The accident had been devastating. Dozens of lives were lost. The media provided constant coverage, and memorials appeared all across the city.

When Se-hyeon woke up after surgery, the first thing he did was sneak out of hospital to attend a memorial service. It felt like the least he could do for the firefighter who had died saving his life.

He remembered feeling thankful, guilty, and deeply sorry for Yoo In-hwan’s family.

He thought that would be the end of it. After all, he was a victim too.

“Hm.”

And yet these two sheets of paper told a different story, outlining Yoo Ji-an’s life since then.

“So on that day…”

He murmured, trailing off as the pieces finally began to fall into place. It seemed she had taken the job at the club just to keep afloat.

She was on academic leave, her brother Ji-min’s hospital bills had escalated, and her grandmother’s nursing home fees were several months in arrears.

“……”

Se-hyeon had acted out of pure curiosity when she told Tae-hoon to find out everything he could about the woman.

Yet even after reading everything, he said nothing, his eyes fixed on Ji-an’s ID photo.

Twenty-three.

She had become head of the household at the age of fifteen, when her father died.

Her older brother, Yoo Jung-ho, had disappeared without trace, leaving the entire burden of the family on her shoulders.

“Executive Director…”

After exchanging wary glances, Tae-hoon finally plucked up the courage to speak. Se-hyeon still hadn’t lifted his gaze from the photograph.

“The chairman has asked you to be at the Not venue by 7 o’clock.”

“And why is that?”

“I wasn’t told, sir. The word came straight from the chairman’s office.”

Not is an ultra-discreet Korean fine-dining establishment in Cheongdam favoured by senior officials and tycoons.

The reason for meeting there instead of at home was blindingly obvious. Se-hyeon let out a brittle laugh.

“So, the old man is really digging in his heels.”

‘Annoying.’

The very trait that had served his father well in building his empire — his refusal to accept defeat — was infuriating when directed at Se-hyeon. It caused his stomach to twist.

He collected Ji-an’s file, stood up, and shrugged into his jacket.

“I’ll bring the car around.”

“It’s almost time for her restaurant shift.”

“…Sir?”

Tap.

He flicked the papers once with a fingertip. Tae-hoon flinched as Se-hyeon spoke in an even tone.

“Yoo Ji-an. We’re going to her workplace.”

With that, he strode out of the office.

Tae-hoon hesitated for only a moment before hurrying after him.