Thursday. The day we decided to play detectives in broad daylight.
The plan was simple: infiltrate the executive lounge during lunch hour, plant ourselves in strategic spots, and watch who came and went between 2:00 and 2:30 p.m. Classic girlie stakeout.
Seoyeon, fashion goddess, brought disguises: two oversized cardigans, fake glasses, a baseball cap for Nari, and—for herself—a sleek bob wig she swore was "intern chic."
We met in the basement parking lot like spies in a low-budget drama.
"Operation Bag Snatcher is go," Nari whispered dramatically, adjusting her cap.
Ara rolled her eyes. "We're just sitting in a lounge, not robbing a bank."
"Same energy," Seoyeon said, flipping her fake hair. "Trust me, I look twelve years younger. No one will recognize me."
Jiwon handed out snacks. "Remember: blend in. Take photos if anything suspicious happens. Don't get caught."
I saluted. "Roger that. I'll go in first since I actually work here."
Phase one: I entered the lounge at 1:45 p.m., grabbed a magazine, and claimed the corner sofa with the perfect view of the side table where bags usually sat.
Phase two: the girlies trickled in separately.
Ara arrived first—calm, housewife vibes, sipping tea like she owned the place.
Jiwon next—nurse scrubs swapped for a simple blouse, pretending to read a health magazine.
Nari bounced in with her cap low, phone out, looking like a Gen-Z intern on break.
Then Seoyeon made her entrance.
And everything went to hell.
She strutted in, bob wig perfect, oversized blazer, carrying a notepad like a prop. She was supposed to sit quietly beside me.
Instead, the VP of Sales—Mr. Park, mid-50s, loud laugh, zero chill—spotted her from across the room.
"Hey! New intern, right? Marketing sent you up?"
Seoyeon froze mid-step.
Mr. Park waved her over. "Come on, come on! We're short one for the 2 o'clock strategy meeting. You can take notes!"
Seoyeon's eyes screamed SOS at me.
I tried to signal no, but Mr. Park was already grabbing her arm.
"You look eager! Good attitude. Follow me!"
And just like that—poof. Our fashion queen was dragged out of the lounge and into a conference room down the hall.
Nari whisper-yelled across the sofa, "Abort? Abort?"
Ara shook her head. "We stay. She'll text if she needs extraction."
Jiwon hid her laugh behind a magazine. "This is why we can't have nice stakeouts."
I bit my lip to keep from cackling. Only we could turn a simple watch mission into a hostage situation.
2:05 p.m. – Lounge Watch (Minus One Girlie)
The four of us (well, three now) settled in.
Bags on display: two Chanel, one Gucci, one Louis Vuitton tote the size of a small child.
Employees came and went—grabbing coffee, chatting, leaving bags unattended like they trusted the world.
2:10 p.m. – Security guard left for his break. Classic.
2:12 p.m. – CCTV should glitch any minute.
I pretended to scroll my phone, camera ready.
Then the door opened.
Not an employee.
The VP's wife—Mrs. Park Ji-Won (no relation to our Jiwon). Mid-40s, dripping diamonds, always in heels sharp enough to kill.
She sailed in, placed her new Dior saddle bag on the side table—the exact spot the others had vanished from—then headed to the espresso machine.
Nari's eyes went wide. She mouthed: SUSPECT.
Ara typed furiously in our group chat.
Ara: She's always here. Always new bags. Coincidence? Me: Watching. Jiwon: Don't stare too hard. Nari: If she steals her own bag I'll scream.
Mrs. Park finished her coffee, checked her watch, and… left the bag.
Just walked out.
Without it.
We all froze.
Was this it?
2:14 p.m.
The lounge emptied. Last straggler left for a meet.
Now only us three.
I zoomed my phone camera.
2:15 p.m. – Screen in the corner (tied to CCTV) flickered. Static.
Glitch on.
Four minutes started.
We held our breath.
Then—movement.
A figure in a cleaning uniform slipped in from the side door. Face hidden by a mask and cap.
Quick. Professional.
Grabbed Mrs. Park's Dior like it was grocery.
Stuffed it into a laundry cart.
Gone in twenty seconds.
The whole thing took less than a minute.
Nari nearly dropped her phone. "DID YOU GET THAT?"
I checked. Blurry, but yes—photo of the cleaner leaving with the bulging cart.
Ara: "Inside job. Has to be."
Jiwon: "But why steal the VP's wife's bag? That's bold."
Me: "Maybe she's in on it? Insurance scam?"
We were buzzing.
Then my phone vibrated—not the group chat.
CEO Kang: Where are you?
Crap.
I'd forgotten I was supposed to bring him reports at 2:15.
Me: Lounge. Grabbing coffee. Be there in 5.
CEO Kang: Now.
Bossy as ever.
I stood. "Gotta go. Text Seoyeon we got gold."
2:25 p.m. – Seoyeon's Hostage Crisis
I was halfway to his office when Seoyeon came barreling down the hall, wig askew, cheeks red, clutching a notepad full of doodles.
"Save me," she hissed, grabbing my arm. "I just sat through a 30-minute meeting on Q3 projections. I nodded like I understood. I even said 'synergy' twice."
I burst out laughing. "You're a hero."
"They think I'm the new intern from Marketing! Mr. Park said I did great and to come back tomorrow!"
We died.
Then I remembered the real crime.
"We got the thief on camera. Cleaning uniform. Mask. Super fast."
Seoyeon's eyes lit. "Send me the photo. I'll enhance it tonight."
We fist-bumped.
Detective era: still alive.
2:35 p.m. – The CEO's Office Interrogation
I knocked once and entered.
Dae-Hyun was at his desk, sleeves rolled again (why was that so distracting?), frowning at his monitor.
"You're late," he said without looking up.
"Traffic in the hallway."
He glanced up. Eyes narrowed on my face—flushed from laughing with Seoyeon.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Forgot. Sorry."
He leaned back. "You've been forgetting a lot lately."
"Busy schedule."
"Or busy flirting in the cafeteria."
I rolled my eyes. "We're back to that?"
He stood—slow, deliberate—and walked around the desk.
Today he was in navy. Tie loose. Looking unfairly good for someone so annoying.
"You're my assistant," he said quietly. "Your time is mine during work hours."
Possessive again.
I crossed my arms. "I'm not a robot. I eat. I talk to people. Deal with it."
His eyes dropped to my lips for half a second. Then back up.
"That man yesterday. The one with the wrist grab."
"Min-Ho sunbae."
"You're seeing him?"
"None of your busi—"
"Answer."
I stepped closer, challenging. "Why do you care?"
He didn't back up. We were inches apart now.
"I don't," he said. Voice low. "I just don't like distractions."
"Right. Because moving my desk and overtime and criticizing my posture isn't distracting at all."
His mouth twitched. "You talk back too much."
"You like it."
Dangerous silence.
Thunder rumbled outside—distant, but there.
He tensed. Barely.
I noticed.
Softened without thinking. "Storm coming tonight."
He looked away first. "Reports on my desk by 6. We're working late again."
"Again? I have plans."
"Cancel them."
"No."
He turned back, eyes sharp. "Miss Han."
"CEO Kang."
We stared.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced—frowned.
"Security wants to see us. Now."
My stomach dropped.
The theft.
3:00 p.m. – Security Room Showdown
Head of Security, Mr. Kim, looked nervous.
"Sir, Miss Han… another bag gone. VP's wife this time."
Dae-Hyun's expression turned arctic. "CCTV?"
"Glitched again. Same four minutes."
I stayed quiet. Heart racing.
We watched the footage.
Blurry cleaner. Laundry cart. Gone.
Dae-Hyun zoomed on the figure.
"Find who was on cleaning duty today," he ordered.
Mr. Kim nodded. "Already checking."
Dae-Hyun turned to me. "You were in the lounge?"
I swallowed. "Yeah. Grabbing coffee."
"Did you see anything?"
Lie or truth?
I went half-truth. "Place was empty most of the time. Mrs. Park left her bag and walked out."
He stared. Hard.
Like he could see straight through me.
Then: "We'll talk later."
Gulp.
8:00 p.m. – Storm Hits (And So Does Vulnerability)
Overtime again. Just us.
Rain lashed the windows.
Thunder cracked—louder this time.
Dae-Hyun froze mid-sentence.
Hand gripped the desk.
Knuckles white.
I didn't think.
Just moved my chair closer.
Not touching.
Just there.
Another boom.
He closed his eyes.
I spoke softly. "Breathe. In four, out four."
He didn't open his eyes, but he did it.
Slowly.
The storm raged.
Ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Finally, it passed.
He opened his eyes.
Looked at me.
Really looked.
"You… saw that."
"Yeah."
He looked away. "Don't tell anyone."
"I won't."
Quiet.
Then: "Thank you."
Two words.
Soft.
I felt them in my chest.
Dangerous.
I stood. "I'll get water."
When I came back, he was normal again.
Cold.
Distant.
But something had cracked.
Tiny.
Irreversible.
11:00 p.m. – Girlie Debrief (Chaos Edition)
Home. Video call.
Seoyeon still in her wig. "I'm keeping this. I look cute."
Nari: "We got the thief! Blurry photo, but progress!"
Ara: "Mrs. Park left her own bag. Suspicious."
Jiwon: "Maybe she's the mastermind?"
Me: "Or the cleaner's being paid."
Then I told them about the thunder moment.
Silence.
Then screaming.
"HE SAID THANK YOU??" "SOFT FOR YOU ERA!!" "Hyemi-ya, he's falling!!"
I groaned. "He's not. He's just… human. Barely."
Denial. Strong.
But that look in his eyes?
I couldn't shake it.