“Connection”
773 Words
Hanuel at Ayan’s Workplace
The company lobby was alive with movement—heels clicking against the marble floors, staff rushing with files, interns balancing trays of coffee.
Phones rang, printers whirred, and the faint hum of conversation filled the air. Everything screamed busy, yet somehow organized chaos.
Hanuel walked in, her tall frame immediately noticeable, though she carried herself casually, like she belonged everywhere without demanding it.
She scanned the lobby, eyes falling on the front desk where the receptionist typed quickly, fingers dancing over the keyboard.
Hanuel: “Hi, good evening.”
The receptionist looked up, eyebrows slightly raised at the polite tone.
Receptionist: “Good evening, ma. How may I help you?”
Hanuel: “I’m here to see Ji Ayan from the live broadcast department.”
The receptionist paused, hands hovering over the keys for a moment.
Receptionist: “Do you have an appointment with her? Or is she aware of your visit?”
Hanuel scratched the back of her neck lightly, smiling with calm confidence.
Hanuel: “Yeah, she’s aware. She told me to use the private elevator… but honestly, I have no idea where it is, so I came here to ask.”
The receptionist’s polite smile faltered slightly, replaced by a stiff formality.
Receptionist: “Ma, I’m sorry. The private elevator isn’t for outsiders. Visitors are required to use the main elevator.”
Hanuel leaned forward just a little, keeping her calm but letting her quiet authority show.
Her smile carried subtle firmness, the kind that made people hesitate.
Hanuel: “Anyone, you say, hm? You don’t even know who I am… or who my brother and my mother are. I’m not just some random person walking in. I’m simply here to see my best friend, Ayan.”
The receptionist blinked, flustered, clearly unsure how to respond to the unexpected confidence and unusual claim.
Just then, a man in a sleek suit strode past—Chang Wook.
His steps slowed as soon as he heard Hanuel say, “my best friend Ayan.”
He stopped, turned slightly, and studied her with sharp, assessing eyes.
Chang Wook (curious, interrupting): “…Best friend, you say?”
Hanuel turned toward him, caught off guard for a moment but unfazed.
She straightened, her shoulders squared, confidence intact, though her curiosity piqued.
For a heartbeat, the lobby’s buzz seemed to fade.
Phones ringing, heels clicking, and distant chatter all blurred into the background.
It was just her and this stranger, connected by the same name: Ayan.
Chang Wook (interjecting again, voice softer this time): “…Best friend… Ayan?”
Hanuel blinked once, then smiled faintly, keeping her composure.
There was a strange, subtle tension in the air—like the room had quietly acknowledged a secret connection, waiting for someone to reveal what it was.
The receptionist shuffled nervously, glancing between the two, sensing the unusual pause in the normally hectic lobby.
Even the interns carrying coffee seemed to move a little slower, like the moment had slowed time around them.
Hanuel straightened fully, meeting Chang Wook’s gaze evenly.
Hanuel (calmly, almost teasing): “Yes… my best friend, Ayan. I’m here to see her.”
For a moment, Chang Wook said nothing.
His sharp eyes studied her, the kind of look that measured more than appearances—it measured intent, presence, and perhaps even courage.
The lobby continued its work around them, but in that quiet pocket of time, the connection through Ayan lingered, unspoken but unmistakable.
Chang Wook, pausing mid-step, eyed Hanuel with curiosity after her sharp words to the receptionist.
Hanuel (turning to him, unimpressed): “And who may you be?”
Chang Wook (with a polite half-smile): “Hi. I’m more like Ayan’s friend… and colleague. We work in the same place.”
Hanuel lifted her chin, standing firm.
Hanuel: “Good. I’m Hanuel—Ayan’s only best friend.”
Chang Wook chuckled softly, nodding.
Chang Wook: “If you’re Hanuel, then that makes sense. I’ve heard her on calls, even mentioning your name to people. Some of her fans even know you’re her best friend.”
Hanuel folded her arms, a faint roll of her eyes punctuating her calm demeanor.
Hanuel (curtly): “Yeah. Where’s the elevator, please?”
Chang Wook gestured to the left, keeping his composure.
Chang Wook: “Just down there, near the hall.
Hanuel (briskly): “Thank you.”
Without another glance, she walked off, heels clicking against the polished floor, leaving a faint aura of authority behind her.
Chang Wook exhaled, shaking his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
Chang Wook (to himself, quietly): “Such a rude girl…”
- Writer
