The hallway outside the meeting room felt colder than usual. Maybe it was the air conditioning or maybe it was the way responsibility settled on me like a second skin. I walked with steady steps, trying to shake off the fatigue sitting at the base of my neck.
The elevator opened with a soft chime. I stepped inside and let the doors close around me. It was the only place in the entire building where I could stand still without someone needing something from me.
My phone buzzed before the elevator even moved.
From: Jungho
Father wants you in his office. Now.
I exhaled through my nose. Of course he did.
The elevator doors opened on the twelfth floor. The chairman's floor. Quiet. Carpeted. Designed to remind people that power didn't need to raise its voice.
I knocked once.
"Come in."
The chairman sat behind his desk, glasses low on his nose, flipping through printed reports. He didn't look up when I entered.
"You moved the QA teams. Increased labor hours. Requested two new supervisors." His voice was calm. Too calm. "Explain."
I stood straight. "Speeding up development without extra support will cause failures. Operations can handle the compression, but not alone."
He finally looked at me. "You are aware this raises costs. Investors dislike surprises."
"They dislike product recalls more," I said. "I'm preventing that."
He studied me like he was reading a file instead of his son's face. "You always prepare an answer."
"That's my job."
"No. Your job is to prevent problems before they exist." He set the paper down. "If you need more people, it means you failed to structure the system correctly from the start."
The words hit harder than they should have. Not because they were sharp, but because they were familiar. He had been saying versions of that to me my whole life.
"I'm adjusting based on new conditions," I said. "Not failing."
Silence stretched. Then he leaned back.
"You are competent, Jay. But competence is not brilliance. Don't mistake one for the other."
I didn't react. Reaction only gave him more room to push.
"Is there anything else?" I asked.
He waved a hand. "Send me the revised projections before midnight."
Dismissed. As always.
I stepped out of the office and closed the door softly behind me. The hallway felt even colder now.
My phone buzzed again.
From: Jungho
Did he chew you out?
I typed back:
Nothing new.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.
Dinner after work? You look like you need sleep or food. Or both.
I stared at the screen for a moment. Jungho never phrased things like questions. It was always an instruction disguised as concern.
I have projections to finish. Maybe next time.
He replied instantly.
Don't make me drag you out of your office.
A small, tired smile tugged at my mouth.
Try. You'll lose.
The elevator carried me down to the operations floor. As soon as I stepped out, people scattered around me with reports, questions, requests, updates.
"COO Kim, we need your approval on—"
"Sir, the logistics team asked—"
"Jay, procurement flagged—"
I raised a hand. "One at a time. Keep it short."
By the time I reached my office, my head felt heavier, and my spine ached from the way I had been holding myself straight all day.
I sat down, opened my laptop, and started typing the projections my father wanted. Numbers blurred together. Deadlines pressed in. My breathing stayed even. Controlled. Because breaking was never an option here.
A soft knock sounded on my door.
It opened without waiting for my answer.
"Thought you'd say no."
Jungho stepped inside with a takeout bag in his hand. The smell of warm food filled the room.
I blinked. "You actually came."
"I said I would," he said. "You shouldn't work while starving."
He set the bag on my desk and pulled out boxes. Kimchi stew. Rice. Dumplings. The things he knew I'd eat even on bad days.
He sat on the edge of my desk. "Eat. I'll wait."
I looked at him, tired in a way I couldn't hide anymore. "Since when do you wait for anyone?"
"Since my brother forgets he's human."
The words were simple, but they lodged somewhere deep.
I nodded, opened the container, and took a bite. Warm. Comforting. Something I didn't realize I needed until now.
Jungho watched me carefully, like he was checking for cracks.
"Just finish the report," he said quietly. "I'll deal with Father."
"You don't have to."
"I know," he replied. "That's why I will."
For the first time that day, the weight on my chest loosened. Just a little. Enough to breathe.
Maybe that was all I needed tonight.
A moment where the world didn't feel like it was taking more than I could give.
The office felt quieter after Jungho left, but the silence didn't make anything lighter. I finished the projections, sent the files to the chairman, and leaned back in my chair. My eyes burned from staring at numbers that refused to stay still. The food helped, but only enough to keep me upright.
I stood, grabbed my coat, and stepped out. People were still working, lights still burning. This building never slept, and neither did the weight inside it.
The elevator chimed. I stepped in, only to find someone already there.
Jungho.
His tie was loose now, jacket unbuttoned, the signs of a long day hiding under the polished CEO mask he usually wore. He raised his eyebrows the moment he saw me.
"Going home?" he asked.
"No." I hit a button.
He glanced at the screen.
His brows knit. "The rooftop?"
I didn't answer immediately. He watched me, waiting, searching my face for something dangerous.
I exhaled, tired. "Don't worry," I said. "I won't try anything funny."
His jaw tightened, but not out of anger. Worry. Suspicion. Fear. The kind he never said out loud.
"I don't believe you," he said quietly.
I turned my head, meeting his eyes. He wasn't accusing me. He was begging me not to prove him right.
The elevator hummed as it climbed.
"Then I'll go with you," he said. "If you're going up there, I'm going too."
I didn't argue. I didn't have the energy. And honestly, I didn't mind. Having him there felt safer than being alone with my thoughts.
The doors opened to a dim hallway that led to the rooftop access. The air grew colder as we walked. Jungho stayed half a step behind me, like he was shadowing me, ready to grab me if I suddenly stepped somewhere I shouldn't.
When I pushed open the rooftop door, the city lights hit us instantly. Wide. Scattered. Endless. The kind of view that made everything feel small but heavy at the same time.
I walked to the railing and rested my hands on the cold metal. The wind picked at my hair, my clothes. It felt cleaner up here. Quieter, even with the traffic humming below.
Jungho stopped beside me, arms crossed, watching me more than the skyline.
"You could've gone home," I said.
"You could've told me the truth," he shot back.
I didn't deny it.
He let out a slow breath. "Jay… you can't expect me not to worry."
"I'm not trying to die," I said softly. "I just… needed air."
"You say that like it makes everything okay."
"It's the only explanation I have right now."
We stood in silence for a long moment. The wind was steady, brushing against the tension between us.
Finally, Jungho spoke again. "You scare the hell out of me sometimes."
"You're the one who dragged me to dinner," I said. "Isn't that supposed to make you feel better?"
"It didn't," he replied. "This doesn't either."
I closed my eyes for a moment. "I'm here, aren't I?"
He leaned on the railing beside me, closer now. "Yeah. And I'm going to make sure you stay here."
"Always the protective big brother," I said, trying to joke.
He didn't smile. "If keeping you alive makes me overprotective, fine. I'll take it."
His honesty hit harder than the cold air.
I looked out over the city again. Lights flickered like they were breathing. For once, my chest loosened a little, enough for the air to go in.
"I'm not going anywhere," I said.
Jungho stayed quiet, but I felt him relax just a bit.
The rooftop didn't erase the day. It didn't fix the weight. But standing there—with him beside me, refusing to let go—it didn't feel as impossible as before.
And maybe that was enough. For tonight.