Chapter Nine
676 Words
The small apartment was quiet after Joon-ho left, but Ji-eun lay awake, staring at the ceiling long after dawn crept through the thin curtains.
The night played over and over in her mind — his gentle hands pressing the cool cloth to her burning forehead, his voice, usually so cold and distant, murmuring words of comfort.
> “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Don’t let their lies tear you down.”
Her chest tightened, but this time not with despair.
He didn’t have to come.
He didn’t have to stay.
And yet, he had.
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A Battle Within
By morning, her fever had broken, leaving behind an aching weariness that went deeper than her bones.
Ji-eun sat up slowly, wrapping her thin blanket around her shoulders, staring at the chipped paint on the wall.
Should I go back?
Part of her wanted to hide forever — to curl up in this small room where no one whispered behind her back, where no one looked at her as if she were less.
But another part of her — the part that had survived all these years of hardship — clenched its fists.
You can’t let them win.
For her grandmother. For herself.
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The Return
Two days later, Ji-eun stood in front of the cracked mirror in her small bathroom.
She’d ironed her blouse the night before, the one that didn’t have loose threads. Her skirt was plain but neat.
She drew in a shaky breath, smoothing her hair back.
You can do this.
---
The company lobby was grand as ever — high ceilings, polished floors that reflected the crystal lights above.
Ji-eun’s steps echoed as she crossed the marble tiles. Conversations hushed. Eyes followed her.
Let them look.
Her heart pounded, but her chin lifted.
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Through the Glass
From the top floor, Joon-ho watched.
He hadn’t meant to look — but his eyes were drawn to her the moment she entered the building.
There she was, small against the gleaming lobby, but standing tall.
A wave of relief washed over him.
She came back.
And beneath that — pride.
They don’t deserve her strength.
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Quiet Protection
That day, he kept an ear open.
When he overheard a manager snicker about her behind a closed door, he summoned him immediately.
The man left the CEO’s office pale, stammering apologies.
When a senior staff member tried to offload extra work onto Ji-eun under the guise of “helping the team,” Joon-ho quietly reassigned it.
At lunch, when she didn’t join the others, he made sure the break room had tea she liked, small comforts he doubted she would even notice came from him.
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Ji-eun Feels the Change
At first, Ji-eun didn’t understand what had shifted.
The stares weren’t as sharp. The snide remarks seemed to die on lips before they could be spoken.
No more impossible piles of work on her desk.
Had they grown bored of tormenting her?
Or was there another reason?
Her gaze drifted, just once, toward the CEO’s office.
No. It couldn’t be.
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A Late Evening
The office grew quiet as evening fell, the last of the employees trickling out.
Ji-eun gathered her things, the weight of the day heavy but bearable.
Outside, the night air was cool, the city lights flickering like distant stars.
She drew in a deep breath, savoring the simple relief of surviving the day.
High above, behind the glass, Joon-ho stood watching.
You don’t have to be alone anymore.
He didn’t say it.
But in his heart, the promise was made.
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His Thoughts, Long After
In his office, long after she had gone, Joon-ho sat alone, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
Her face haunted him — not because of the scandal, not because of duty — but because he recognized that quiet strength.
Mother had it too.
The same fire that refused to go out, no matter how cruel the world became.
And with that realization came resolve.
I’ll protect her. Even if I have to fight everyone to do it.
- Writer
