Ah-rin sat curled on the couch, a thick shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. The fabric did little to stop the faint tremor still running through her body.
The incident replayed in flashes.
Headlights.
A horn.
A hand gripping her arm.
She swallowed hard.
The living room was dim, only the standing lamp in the corner casting a soft amber glow. The city outside the window was quieter now, but her pulse still hadn't settled.
Footsteps approached.
Park Evan walked in, two steaming cups in his hands. He didn't say anything at first. He simply handed one to her.
"Drink."
She obeyed without protest. The warmth seeped into her cold fingers.
He sat beside her, closer than usual.
Then he exhaled sharply.
"What were you even thinking at that time, huh?" His voice wasn't loud — but it was tight. Controlled anger. Fear disguised as frustration. "What would have happened if I was even a minute late? Do you have any idea what would happen to your children if something happened to you?"
His words struck harder than he intended.
She kept quiet.
Because he was right.
Because she had no defense.
Because for a moment, she hadn't been thinking of anything at all.
The silence stretched.
"You're not alone anymore," Evan continued, his tone shifting into something steadier. "You don't get to act recklessly like that."
Her fingers tightened around the cup.
Then, quietly—
"You said you're going to the Yeongdo construction site tomorrow, right?"
He blinked, thrown off by the sudden change.
"Yes. Why though?"
"I'll accompany you tomorrow."
"Wae?!" The protest slipped out before he could stop it. But it faded when he noticed her expression.
She wasn't irritated.
She wasn't stubborn.
She looked… unsettled.
Distracted.
He turned fully toward her and took her hand gently in his.
"What happened?" His voice softened. "Tell me."
She inhaled slowly.
"I just need a break," she said, staring at the untouched surface of her coffee. "Space from everything. To think clearly."
What she didn't say:
To stop myself from breaking.
To stop myself from running back.
To stop myself from believing what I saw.
Evan studied her carefully.
He knew that look.
She was hurting.
But she wouldn't admit why.
"Fine," he said after a moment. "We'll go tomorrow. Together."
She gave him a tight-lipped smile.
It didn't reach her eyes.
"Go to sleep now," he added gently.
She nodded.
They stood almost at the same time.
The apartment fell quiet as the lights went out one by one.
But sleep did not come easily to either of them.
Meanwhile…
After Hae-in left, Joon-woo returned to his office.
The hallway lights were dimmed, the building nearly empty. His footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor as he entered his private office.
He sat down slowly.
For a moment, he did nothing.
Then something flickered in his mind.
A message.
Ah-rin had texted him earlier.
Before Hae-in came to meet.
She had said she needed to meet him.
Something important.
His eyes shifted toward the clock.
She should have been here by now.
He reached for his phone and dialed her number.
It rang.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
A faint crease formed between his brows.
He called a third time.
This time, it went straight to voicemail.
Switched off.
That wasn't like her.
His jaw tightened slightly.
He immediately dialed another number.
The private detective he had discreetly hired weeks ago — a precaution he had told no one about.
The line rang.
And rang.
And then—
Call failed.
Joon-woo stared at the screen.
Slowly, deliberately, he stood up.
Outside his window, the city stretched in endless lights.
Somewhere in that vast maze of streets—
Ah-rin had almost been hit by a car.
And he didn't know.
His phone buzzed suddenly in his hand.
Unknown number.
He hesitated for half a second before answering.
"…Hello?"
Silence.
Then—
A low voice.
"Mr. Kim… I believe someone is trying to reach you through her."
The line went dead.
Joon-woo's grip on the phone tightened.
For the first time that night—
His calm fractured.
Morning arrived without warmth.
The city was already awake — traffic swelling, headlines refreshing, notifications buzzing across screens.
Inside his office, Joon-woo stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, tie loosened, untouched coffee cooling on his desk. He hadn't slept. The unknown call from the previous night still echoed in the back of his mind.
His phone vibrated sharply against the glass desk.
Breaking News.
He glanced down, only half-interested.
Then he opened it.
The newsroom logo flashed across the screen before cutting to live footage: twisted metal, flashing red and blue lights, a crowd held back by police tape. The camera zoomed in on a mangled sedan at a highway junction.
The anchor's voice followed — steady, detached.
"A car accident occurred earlier this morning at the East Highway Junction. Two vehicles collided at high speed. A man was discovered severely injured inside one of the cars. The driver of the second vehicle fled the scene immediately after the crash. Authorities have yet to identify the suspect.
The injured man is currently in critical condition and has been admitted to City Hospital. Stay tuned for further updates."
The footage shifted.
A blurred close-up of the injured man being transferred onto a stretcher.
The camera lingered for just a second too long.
Long enough.
Joon-woo's breath stalled.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
The face — pale, blood streaked, eyes closed — was unmistakable.
The private detective he had hired.
The one assigned to discreetly monitor Ah-rin.
The one who had not answered his call last night.
The room seemed to tilt slightly.
No.
That wasn't coincidence.
It couldn't be.
His jaw locked as the timeline assembled in brutal clarity:
The unanswered calls.
The unknown voice.
The detective's silence.
And now — a hit-and-run.
His mind didn't race.
It sharpened.
He replayed the caller's words from last night.
"I believe someone is trying to reach you through her."
Through her.
Ah-rin.
His chest tightened.
Was this a warning?
Or was this a message?
He dialed City Hospital immediately.
The line connected after two rings.
"This is Kim Joon-woo," he said, voice calm — too calm. "I need confirmation on the accident victim brought in from the East Highway Junction."
A pause.
"Yes, sir. He's in emergency surgery right now. His condition is unstable."
"Was he conscious at any point?"
"No, sir."
Joon-woo ended the call slowly.
He stared at the frozen frame of the news footage still glowing on his phone.
Someone had run.
Someone had made sure there were no witnesses.
And he hd called him before the news broke.
This wasn't random.
It was deliberate.
His gaze shifted towrd the city below.
Somewhere out there—
Ah-rin was unaware.
Unaware that the man secretly watching over her was now fighting for his own life.
Unaware that the net tightening around her was no longer invisible.
His phone buzzed again.
A new message.
Unknown number.
This time, it wasn't a call.
It was a photo.
A blurred image taken from a distance.
Ah-rin.
Standing outside her apartment building with an unknown man.
Time-stamped: ten minutes ago.
Beneath it, a single line of text:
"Accidents happen."
For the first time since the news broadcast began—
Joon-woo felt something colder than anger.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
And whoever was behind this… had just made it clear.
This was only the beginning.
To Be Continued...