First Class on Hassano Air
Jeanie really owes me for this, Dasom thought bitterly as she sat curled into her first-class seat.
The long flight home had been absolute hell.
Originally, she had planned to travel with her friends, but university exams delayed her departure. Jean, Asher, and Bee had already promised their families they would arrive a week early, leaving Dasom to fly home alone.
Ironically, she almost wished she were seated in economy, surrounded by the comfort and noise of other people instead of the quiet isolation of first class.
To distract herself, Dasom buried her attention in a coding project for a volunteer computer science camp she planned to help run while in Hassano. It was the same camp she had attended as a child long before the accident — an experience she still treasured deeply.
For a while, the flight remained smooth.
Then the turbulence hit.
The plane jolted violently enough for her chest to tighten almost instantly. Anxiety crawled up her spine like ice water.
"Good morning, passengers. This is your captain speaking," the overhead speaker crackled. "We're passing through a rough patch of turbulence. There's nothing to worry about. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened and follow instructions from our flight attendants."
The fasten seatbelt sign illuminated overhead.
Dasom's breathing immediately worsened.
She slammed her laptop shut and shoved it back into her bag before curling into herself, pulling her knees tightly against her chest.
The harder she gripped her legs, the more difficult it became to breathe.
Images from the crash flashed violently through her mind.
Metal twisting.
Screaming.
Fire.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried desperately not to hyperventilate.
Okay. Breathe.
Her therapist's techniques echoed through her mind as she attempted to ground herself. Dasom mentally solved advanced mathematical equations — one of her usual coping methods — but even that failed.
Then she tried controlled breathing exercises.
Still nothing.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as panic overwhelmed her completely.
Pain spread through her arms and legs as her body began slipping into shock.
Just as darkness threatened to swallow her whole, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.
Dasom tried opening her eyes, but tears blurred her vision too heavily to make out the figure beside her.
Then a deep, smooth voice spoke softly beside her.
"Are you alright?"
The calmness in his voice alone almost pulled her out of the panic attack.
Without thinking, Dasom grabbed onto his arms tightly.
The stranger immediately noticed the crest of the Four Dons embroidered subtly across her belongings, but paid it little attention as he crouched beside her seat.
He had likely been returning from the restroom when he spotted her.
"I'm so sorry…" she whispered shakily. "But could you please stay with me?"
He blinked, surprised by how tightly she held onto him — and even more by how violently she was trembling.
"Sure," he replied calmly. "That's fine."
His voice was low and steady.
"I'm—" he stopped himself briefly. "What's your name?"
"Dasom," she breathed weakly. "My friends call me Daisy."
As another harsh wave of turbulence rattled the aircraft, she instinctively gripped his biceps harder and pulled herself closer.
That was when he noticed the tear streaks running down her face.
His brows furrowed with concern.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered again.
"Don't apologise," he said gently. "Just breathe. Slowly."
His deep voice grounded her in a way nothing else had managed to.
"Okay, Daisy," he guided softly. "In…"
He inhaled with her.
"Out."
Again.
"In."
"Out."
Obediently, she matched his breathing rhythm.
He smells really good, Dasom thought hazily.
The faint scent of expensive cologne and clean linen distracted her enough to focus on something other than the violent shaking of the aircraft.
A flight attendant approached cautiously to ask if they required assistance, but the stranger politely assured them everything was under control.
So he stayed.
Even after the turbulence eased, he remained beside her until her breathing slowed and the trembling lessened.
Though still shaken, her thoughts slowly began returning to normal.
His muscles are ridiculously firm…
The thought came out of nowhere.
I wonder what he'd look like without that blazer—
Dasom mentally recoiled in horror.
You're actually unbelievable. Stop thinking like this.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
Embarrassed by her own thoughts, she abruptly released his arms and leaned away.
The sudden movement startled him slightly, but he simply smiled faintly.
"You're going to be okay," he reassured quietly. "I promise."
"If we don't end up okay," she croaked weakly, still sniffling, "I'm blaming you."
A soft laugh escaped him.
"Then I guess I'll have to keep my promise."
Dasom still hadn't fully opened her eyes.
After watching her for a moment, he spoke again.
"Why don't you try sleeping?"
He disappeared briefly before returning with a blanket and a pair of headphones from his seat.
Carefully, he draped the blanket over her before helping recline her chair slightly.
"This might help," he said softly. "Play some music and get some rest."
Before she could properly thank him, he had already stepped away.
Dasom finally managed to open her eyes slightly, but exhaustion weighed too heavily on her body.
Two sleepless nights, stress from university, and the panic attack had completely drained her.
I'll thank Mr Turbulence when I wake up, she thought drowsily as soft music filled her ears.
Within minutes, sleep claimed her.
Mr Turbulence, however, didn't immediately return to his seat.
He lingered nearby, quietly watching to ensure she had calmed down properly.
Something about the way she had shaken so violently unsettled him.
She had looked terrified.
Eventually, the steady rise and fall of her breathing told him she was finally asleep, and only then did he return to his seat and resume working on his laptop.
Dasom slept surprisingly well.
For the first time in years, she experienced no nightmares.
When the plane finally landed, she immediately began searching for the mysterious stranger.
She asked several passengers if they had seen a tall man in a dark designer blazer, but no one could identify who she meant — especially since nearly every man in first class had been dressed similarly.
Even the flight attendant who had checked on her apologised and explained that he had been one of the first passengers to leave the aircraft.
After failing to find him, Dasom stared down at the headphones still resting in her hands.
Thanks, Mr Turbulence, she thought quietly.
She hurried into the airport restroom to fix her makeup, but the second she looked into the mirror, she nearly groaned aloud.
Her eyes were swollen, her makeup smudged, and she looked exhausted.
He saw me looking like this?
The embarrassment alone nearly made her want to disappear.
As she exited the terminal into the warm Hassano sunlight, she found herself replaying the interaction over and over in her head.
The stranger had been patient, calm, and strangely comforting.
Almost like someone familiar with trauma himself.
Before she could think any deeper into it, a sleek black car pulled smoothly into the VIP pickup area.
The Lee family chauffeur, Jae Choi, stepped out and opened the door for her immediately.
"Young Madam Lee," he greeted warmly. "It's been far too long."
He glanced at her through the rear-view mirror once they started driving.
"You look exactly like your mother."
Dasom laughed softly.
"Thanks, Uncle Jae. I've missed you."
The two quickly fell into easy conversation during the drive back to the estate.
"How are Jihyo and Jae Junior?" Dasom asked. "Last time I saw them, they were still babies."
"The twins are huge now," Jae chuckled proudly. "They start school this year."
His smile softened slightly.
"After their mother passed, things were difficult for a while… but we managed."
Then he glanced at her teasingly.
"What about you, Young Madam? Anyone special in your life?"
Dasom looked out the window.
Many men had tried.
None survived the combined interference of her overprotective brother and fiercely loyal friends.
There had only been one serious relationship — and it had ended badly after his infidelity and toxic behavior surfaced.
"It'll feel strange being home without Aunt Suzy here," Dasom said quietly. "I'll visit her grave when I can."
Then she smiled lightly.
"And Uncle Jae… you don't have to speak so formally to me."
The older man visibly softened at her words.
Even after all these years, she still treated him like family.
For the remainder of the drive, however, Dasom's thoughts drifted back toward Mr Turbulence.
Kind.
Patient.
Strong.
Clearly wealthy.
And dangerously attractive.
That's literally all I know about him, she thought. Could he be a businessman? A lawyer? An architect?
She sighed inwardly.
Guess I'll never know.
As the car finally entered the Lee estate, melancholy slowly crept into her chest.
They passed the large persimmon tree near the gardens — the same tree where a bright yellow ribbon had been tied in memory of her parents.
It was still perfectly maintained.
Dasom instantly knew Mingyu had cared for it personally.
She had been the one to teach him how to tie the ribbon that way.
Her family used to spend afternoons beneath that tree together.
Picnics.
Games.
Laughter.
Those memories now felt impossibly distant.
Lost in thought, she barely noticed the car stopping until Jae stepped out and opened her door.
"Madam Bunny," he said gently, "whenever you're ready."
Dasom blinked before smiling softly.
"Sorry, Uncle Jae."
"Don't apologise," he replied warmly. "It's always a pleasure."
It had been eight and a half years since Dasom last stepped foot inside the Lee family mansion.
Yet as she stared up at it now, she realised almost nothing had changed.
It felt less like returning home and more like stepping into a time capsule.
I'm really back… huh?
Taking a slow breath, Dasom climbed the grand entrance steps and walked through the towering mansion doors once more.