ChapterFive-Han Jiwon
770 Words
She barely recognized the woman staring back from the office window.
Han Jiwon stood there for a long minute, looking at her own reflection like it was a stranger wearing her clothes. The city lights bled into the glass, softening the edges of her usually sharp silhouette.
“This is stupid,” she muttered under her breath.
Han Jiwon had always liked herself. Her posture, her voice, her reputation. She was self-aware enough to admit that without blushing. She was the lawyer other lawyers in Seoul talked about in hushed tones. The one who never lost her cool. The one who won cases with clean, precise cuts and never left an emotional mess behind.
She was famous for never breaking.
But right now, the woman in the glass was lying.
Her lips were pressed into a thin, pale line. Her eyes were red, not from tears because she didn’t cry but from a night without sleep. Her hand shook a little as she straightened her blazer, even though it didn’t need straightening.
“Get a grip”, she told herself.
But her mind wouldn’t listen.
It kept circling back to the note.
Last night, after everything had finally gone quiet in her apartment, she’d opened her desk drawer and found it just sitting there. Bold as you please, like it belonged.
“I know what you did.”
She’d stared at it for way too long. Then she’d burned it in the bathroom sink before her husband could wander in and ask questions she didn’t want to answer.
But the words stuck.
Who wrote it?
Naomi Choi? That widow with the quiet eyes and the unreadable face?
Kang Minseok? The loudmouth who was always sweating through his shirts?
Or someone else? Someone she hadn’t even noticed?
“It doesn’t matter,” Jiwon whispered to the empty office.
But when a knock came at the door sharp, firm, deliberate her whole body flinched.
“Attorney Han?”
She caught her breath, then smoothed her voice out. “Yes. Come in.”
Detective Yoon walked in. His face gave nothing away. He moved like a man who knew that silence could be scarier than shouting.
He sat down across from her without being asked and flipped open his notebook.
“Just a few follow-up questions,” he said.
Jiwon offered her polite, professional smile. “Of course. Anything to help.”
His eyes stayed on her face a beat too long.
“Where were you the night of the incident?” he asked.
She didn’t hesitate. “At the party. Like everyone else. Talking, networking. Drinking champagne.”
“And afterwards?”
She paused. Just for a breath.
“I left when the police finished their initial round. I went straight home. I had court in the morning.”
He scribbled something down. “Can anyone confirm that?”
“My husband,” she answered, maybe a little too quickly.
Detective Yoon didn’t react. He just kept writing. The sound of his pen on the paper made her skin crawl.
She folded her hands in her lap, hiding the little half-moon marks her nails were digging into her palms.
After a moment, he stood up.
“We’ll be in touch,” he said, his voice flat.
“Any time,” Jiwon replied.
He gave a single nod and left.
Only when the door clicked shut did she let out the breath she’d been holding.
By midnight, the Tower was quiet again.
From her balcony, Seoul sprawled out below, all glitter and shadow. It looked beautiful and powerful. And just out of reach, like the control she was desperately trying to hang onto.
Her husband was asleep in the bedroom. Clueless. Safe.
She poured herself a glass of wine and sat down at her desk.
“I’m still in control,” she said out loud, just to hear the words.
Then she saw it.
Another note.
It was lying neatly on her chair, right where she was supposed to be sitting.
The wineglass slipped, splashing red across the cream-colored rug.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
“How?” was all she could whisper.
She picked up the paper.
‘Make Naomi pay. Tonight.’
Her mouth went dry.
This wasn’t a warning.
This wasn’t even a threat.
It was an order.
Her eyes flicked to the closed bedroom door, then to the dark window. Somewhere in this same building, Naomi Choi was breathing the same air.
“Make Naomi pay.”
And for the first time in her life, Han Jiwon felt the solid ground under her feet start to c***k.
- Writer
