It feels as though I am standing atop a rooftop, yet I am uncertain of my precise location. The rooftop offers a dizzying view, resembling a map of random buildings and tiny cars spread out below me. I see streets and rooftops, people moving like ants, and everything glowing in the light.
From up here, I can hear the distant honking of cars, snippets of conversations, and the occasional wail of a siren.
I look around, trying to find something that might give me a clue as to where I am. This place feels strangely familiar, yet utterly foreign. Nothing comes to mind, though. The wind whips around me, carrying the sounds and scents of the city below. I feel exhilarated yet lost all at once.
Then, my gaze lands on a man on a rooftop higher than mine—but not too far. He looks as familiar as the place itself, though I can't quite place where I've seen him before.
Despite the distance, I can make out his features clearly. His handsomeness is subtle, yet striking enough to capture anyone's attention without effort. His face is framed by a strong jawline, his skin flawless and almost glowing in the sunlight.
I breathe in deeply, stunned by his looks. Is he a model? An actor?
His eyes, somewhat hooded, are serious, as if they hold unspoken thoughts or secrets he isn't ready to share. They're warm and gentle, yet composed. His lips are naturally full, resting in a neutral line, making it difficult to tell if he's upset, lost in thought, or simply an ordinary man observing his surroundings.
Then, he turns his head slowly toward me, and our eyes meet. The depth in his gaze feels like it's piercing straight through me, and I feel an ache in my chest. My heart pounds, as though trying to break free.
His brown eyes—are they shimmering? Wait, are those tears? I can't tell if they're tears or just the sunlight playing tricks on me. Then, he turns back toward the horizon, and I look down, suddenly feeling that something is wrong.
I don't understand why, but my vision is blurring. I hadn't realized that tears were streaming down my cheeks. "What the hell?" I whisper to myself, brushing the tears away, but they only fall faster. My throat tightens, and my breath becomes shallow as a mix of confusion and sadness tightens around my heart.
When I look up again, he's walking toward the edge of the rooftop.
"What... what's happening?" I mumble. Before I can think, my legs are moving on their own. "WAIT!" I yell, but he doesn't stop. Why isn't he stopping? Doesn't he hear me? "YAH! STOP!" I scream, my voice breaking, but he keeps walking, not sparing a single glance in my direction.
Tears are streaming down my face, and I don't even know why it hurts so much.
It's too late. He reaches the edge, and then... he jumps.
The sound of his body hitting the ground echoes in my ears. "JOOHAWN!!!" I scream, running toward the edge, my heart pounding in my chest.
Beep... beep... beep...
I jolt awake, heart racing, sweat dripping down my face. Wait... it was just a nightmare.
"Ugh... Darn that dream," I whisper, trying to calm my racing heart. I push my hair back from my forehead and glance at the digital clock—it's blinking 9:00.
What a way to start the day!
First, a nightmare about a stranger, and now I've overslept. Great. But what a strange dream. I've never had anything like it before. A stranger who feels so familiar... and why was I crying for him? And did I... did I scream his name?
Joohwan.
Why does that name feel so familiar?
I try to shake the thought from my head. But no, no—it's not time to think about that now.
I grabbed my phone, which was placed on the side table, and saw the missed calls and messages from my team leader and then a colleague at my office, who is my best friend at work.
Yoo-dae-ri-nim, where are you? Please come ASAP—Park Minjae (team leader).
Yah, Han Sungmin, please hurry and respond to my messages. - Kang Bongseon.
Gwajang-nim is asking about the files for the presentation today. - Kang Bongseon.
The third message sends a jolt of panic through me. I almost trip over my bed as I scramble to find my laptop and check the files for the presentation. A relieved sigh escapes from my lips when I see that everything is in order and ready to go. I quickly reply to my team leader and my colleague, letting them know that everything is under control and that I'll be there shortly.
I rush to the bathroom. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I wore a white, short-sleeved t-shirt worn underneath a black, sleeveless sweater vest, pairing it with high-waisted, beige, wide-leg trousers. Putting my watch on my left wrist, I grabbed my black crossbody bag, putting my laptop and notebook inside. I completed the look with a pair of black loafers.
I didn't even take a look at myself in the mirror and rushed outside my home, closing the main door as it beeped, indicating it was locked. Thanks to today's technology, my time would not have been wasted by the lock and key.
I quickly made my way down the stairs, feeling the weight of the morning's rush lingering. My heart was still pounding from the chaotic start to the day, but I was thankful I didn't live on the top floor. That would have been a disaster. If I had taken the elevator, I would have been stuck waiting in a cramped space, and by the time I made it downstairs, I'd probably have collapsed from exhaustion.
It might be silly, but during the morning hours, everything's a blur—people are hurrying to work, trying to catch the elevator, and racing to get out of the building. It's like a never-ending game of Tetris. So, I prefer to take the stairs and get it over with. At least this way, I'm guaranteed to get to the ground floor without being stuck waiting for a lift that'll take forever.
As I reached the ground floor, I quickly stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting me as I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder. I walked the parking space way to my car.
As I settled into my car, the cool morning air still fresh on my skin, I glanced at the time again—9:25. I was cutting it close, but I'd make it to the office on time.
Just as I buckled up, my phone rang, interrupting the rush of thoughts running through my head. It was Bongseon. I quickly answered, not bothering with pleasantries. "I'm coming—"
"Yah! Han Sungmin, you know about our manager, don't you?" Bongseon's voice was sharp, cutting me off mid-sentence.
"Ah, I know, okay, now I'm on my way, Bongseon-ah," I replied, trying to sound calm as I turned the wheel.
I could practically hear her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Sungmin, don't you even dare complain or whine when he comes down on you for being late."
"Ah, okay!" I snapped back, ending the call before she could say more.
I muttered under my breath as I pulled out of the parking lot. "Sheesh, that little brat..."
The image of our manager, Joo Junwoo, flashed in front of my eyes.
Joo Junwoo, 27, the youngest manager in the company, was the reason I was in such a rush. He wasn't always like this, though. I remembered him when he first joined—just a shy 23-year-old intern too young for this corporate world, and he was someone who could barely make eye contact with me when asking for a pen. Back then, I saw potential in him, the thirst to live and survive in this cutthroat environment.
I took it upon myself to help him adjust to the office environment. I taught him the ropes, how to navigate the sometimes-turbulent waters of office politics, and how to gain respect. I watched him slowly build up his confidence, and within a span of four years, he had directly become manager of his own team, meaning our team, while I got promoted as assistant manager.
No, I wasn't disappointed in it. Because why should I? I was proud to see him succeed and grow under my guidance. But it was hard to believe how much he'd changed.
Now, the same guy who once stuttered when asking for help was giving orders with the authority of someone far beyond his age. He had become a different person—a strict, no-nonsense manager who had no hesitation about calling people out for their mistakes. That change was both impressive and irritating.
"Disrespectful brat," I muttered again, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. I never expected this kind of attitude from him, but it wasn't entirely true. The company had done that to him. It always did. It was just... a lot to get used to. Watching someone you once took care of rise to the top so quickly was both impressive and a little frustrating.
Still, he was the manager, and as much as I wanted to complain, I knew better than to do so now. The consequences of being late with a deadline or, worse, making him feel disrespected, were not something I wanted to deal with today.
I stepped on the gas and drove down the road, my mind briefly returning to my dream. Joohwan... Why did that name come out? Why did he seem so familiar, as if I knew him from somewhere? As the questions were raised, I shook my head, clearing them, focusing on the road ahead. There was no time to think about dreams or the mystery of Joohwan right now.
With one last glance at the clock on the dashboard as a loud gasp left my mouth, it was 9:35, just 5
minutes to spare—I pushed the thought aside and refocused on the task ahead.
And that's how my day has started.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━
Thanks for reading. See you in the next chapter.
If you like this chapter, do vote and comment.
━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━