The stairs were cold, echoing with every step. Cho Se Ra was going down with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Her heart was racing, her legs burning, but she kept going, driven by the determination not to give in.
— This is more punishment than work… she muttered through her teeth. Making me go down more than fifty-five floors on foot. What is he… if not a cruel and diabolical being.
A technician crossed her path, looking at her in surprise. She quickly looked away and continued her descent. Her phone vibrated in her pocket; she turned it on for a moment and looked at little Na Bi, her wallpaper.
— What wouldn't I do for you, my baby… she whispered, her heart tightening.
She turned off the screen and continued her slow descent, each step weighing like a cruel reminder of her new reality.
The office was bathed in soft light, filtered through half-closed blinds. The flat screen mounted on the wall displayed Se Ra, already halfway down the stairs, her face tense, her features strained with effort. The steady sound of her steps echoed through the space, mixed with the faint hum of the air conditioning.
Woo Jin knocked softly and entered, a file held tightly against him. His gaze immediately fell on the screen.
— Don't you think you're being a bit too harsh on her? he murmured, almost concerned. It's only her first day.
Jae Hyun lifted his head, watching the scene with a mix of surprise and curiosity. He narrowed his eyes, one eyebrow slightly raised, incredulous at Se Ra's almost masochistic determination. Then, a faint sarcastic smile stretched across his lips before he resumed his impassive posture.
— She fully deserves it, he replied in a dry, almost mechanical tone.
Silence settled again. Woo Jin, walking toward the table, shook his head with a hint of annoyance.
— In my humble opinion, you should ease up a little. It's her first day. She's still disoriented, he continued, his voice measured but firm.
Jae Hyun stared at him for a moment, his gaze hard, almost burning, then sighed inwardly. He knew she stumbled, that she was clumsy, but every misstep stirred something in him: a frustration he refused to show, a cold curiosity. He liked observing people under pressure, analyzing their weaknesses. And Se Ra… she had a way of surprising him, even in her mistakes.
— You could help her, he conceded, in a tone that allowed neither pity nor reproach.
Woo Jin placed the file on the table with a sharp sound and waited patiently.
— It's the sales contract. Sign it, he said, pointing to the pages.
Jae Hyun picked up the pen, his fingers brushing the cold metal, and signed with precise strokes, almost ceremonially, as if each signature sealed a strategic decision. He closed the file, the sharp sound echoing in the silent room.
— Tell him that next time I won't tolerate his lack of professionalism. I hate working with poor negotiators, he said, his tone sharp but controlled.
Woo Jin picked up the file, nodded, and headed toward the door.
— Secretary Ahn? Jae Hyun called, his voice carrying a rare hint of warmth, almost a thread of respect.
He turned back toward his boss, hesitant.
— Sir?
— If you see Miss Cho, tell her she's doing a good job, Jae Hyun added.
Woo Jin smiled faintly and continued toward the door, leaving the room to fall back into a nearly meditative silence.
Jae Hyun, alone once again, stared at the screen for a few moments. He observed every movement of Se Ra: her shoulders leaning under the effort, her uneven breathing, her hands gripping the railing tightly. A part of him found himself analyzing her perseverance, her tenacious mind despite the fatigue. He frowned slightly, not out of anger, but out of calculation.
She learns fast, he thought. She could be useful… or dangerous. I need to test her a little more.
His fingers tapped lightly on the desk, creating an almost hypnotic rhythm. Each lap Se Ra made on the stairs became, for him, an observation, a silent evaluation. He felt no sympathy, not really… but a cold, methodical interest mixed with an unconscious fascination for the way she faced adversity.
The sound of footsteps continued on the screen, and Jae Hyun leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed, jaw relaxed but gaze sharp. The room, silent and still, seemed to hold its breath with him, a witness to the silent examination he was conducting on the one he had put to the test.
The sunlight filtered through the small windows of the school, illuminating the brightly colored walls the children had painted. Laughter and shouts filled the room, mixed with the rustling of paper and the scratching of pencils on it. The soft, familiar smell of chalk and wood lingered in the air, creating an almost comforting cocoon amid the childish chaos.
Na Bi was sitting in a corner, focused, her lips slightly pressed together, her eyes shining with seriousness. Her small fingers held the pencil firmly, carefully tracing the outlines of her drawing. The other students swirled around her, waving their work and laughing with enthusiasm, but she seemed untouched by all the commotion.
Madam Kim, bent over a student's work, occasionally lifted her eyes to watch the class. Her smile was wide and patient, but her eyes revealed the accumulated fatigue of managing this daily chaos.
— Alright, don't panic, I will grade each of your work, okay? she said gently.
— Yes!!! the students answered in unison.
Na Bi, however, continued her drawing without even lifting her head. Madam Kim approached, curious, and leaned slightly to observe the little girl's work. In the middle of the page, a little girl was holding the hands of two women: one surrounded by a halo, with small delicate wings on her back.
— Na Bi? Can you show me what you're drawing? the teacher asked, her voice filled with a mix of softness and curiosity.
The little girl handed over the paper seriously, as if she were sharing a precious secret.
— And… who are these people? Madam Kim asked, slightly frowning.
Na Bi pointed at each character with a precise and confident gesture.
— This is my mom Cho Se Ra. This is me. And here, this is my mother. The one who gave birth to me. She hasn't been here since I was a baby. Soon I will go see her.
Madam Kim froze for a few seconds, shocked by the maturity and gravity of the child's words. She took a deep breath to regain her composure, feeling her heart tighten.
— Why do you say that? she asked softly, trying to hide her surprise.
— Because that's how it is, Na Bi replied simply, her eyes fixed on her drawing as if nothing else existed in the world.
The teacher watched her for a few moments, touched by her honesty and sensitivity. She hesitated, then attempted an encouraging smile.
— Could you please leave me your drawing afterward? I would like to add it to the school's collection.
Na Bi shook her head, but with a small nod of agreement, almost a silent "yes," as if she acknowledged the value of her work while still keeping control over her inner world.
Madam Kim looked at her for a few more seconds, moved and intrigued by this child so young yet already so full of maturity. Then, regaining her breath and her gentle authority, she straightened up to return to the other students, encouraging along the way a boy who timidly raised his hand.
— That's very good… well done! she said warmly, even though a restrained sigh escaped her, aware of the weight those words carried on Na Bi's little heart.
The sound of pencils and laughter resumed, but in a corner, Na Bi continued drawing, focused, as if she were building an invisible bridge between her past, her present, and a future she promised herself would be bright.