chapter 1:whispers of a hidden flame
1134 Words
The thump of bass, the swirl of colored lights, and the energy of bodies moving in sync—it was a world Kang Mirae had once owned. The hottest DJ in Gangnam, she made the crowd dance like they were under her spell. Her signature? Confidence. Her weapon? Charisma.
But tonight, she wasn’t spinning tracks. She was holding a brush and a clipboard.
“Make sure all the stylists are ready! CEO Lee is on his way down,” barked the floor manager.
Mirae straightened her black blazer and wiped her palms down her jeans. Gone was the leather-wearing club queen. She was now a stylist—part of StarWave Entertainment’s elite team that prepped Korea’s biggest stars.
She was just one of many.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
“Out of the hallway, please!” someone called out.
The air shifted.
People moved.
And then, he appeared.
Lee Jihan.
Tall, intense, and effortlessly magnetic. He didn’t walk—he owned the space with every step. His black suit fit like it had been sewn onto him. Sharp jawline, unreadable eyes, the confidence of a man who had built an empire from scratch.
Mirae’s breath caught. She hadn’t seen him since... that night.
The night her life changed forever.
One night. One mistake. One memory she had buried deep.
But the result of that night? Sleeping peacefully at home, clutching a stuffed penguin, was her 3-year-old son—Minjun.
And he had his father’s eyes.
“Don’t look at him,” Mirae whispered to herself, shifting her gaze to the floor. “Blend in. You’re invisible.”
She turned to leave but heard his voice before she could take a step.
“You. Stylist.”
Her spine went stiff. She slowly turned around, heart thudding.
Jihan was looking straight at her.
“I haven’t seen you before,” he said, tilting his head. “New?”
“Yes, sir,” Mirae said, hoping her voice didn’t shake.
He studied her for a second. A flicker of something crossed his face—recognition? Curiosity?
“Name?”
“Kang Mirae.”
Something tightened in his jaw.
“You’ll be on my personal styling team for the press tour,” he said, then walked away as if it was a casual announcement—not a bombshell.
Mirae stood frozen, her mind racing.
Why her? Why now?
mirae went home in a very emotional way thinking about what jihan said
Back at the apartment, Kang Hana was feeding Minjun grapes.
“He said what? You’re on his styling team?” she gasped.
Mirae dropped her bag and collapsed onto the couch. “For two weeks straight. He looked right at me, Hana. I don’t think he remembers me. But something… something was in his eyes.”
“Girl, your life is a K-drama.”
“No, my life is a mess.”
Minjun ran in with a wide smile. “Umma!”
Mirae scooped him up, kissing his soft cheek.
“Your appa almost found you today,” she whispered.
Minjun blinked, then pointed at the TV where an ad featuring Jihan was playing. “Appa!”
Hana and Mirae exchanged a look.
“That boy knows,” Hana said.
“Don’t,” Mirae warned. “Don’t say it. He can’t ever know. I don’t want his money. I don’t want him claiming custody. I just want to do my job and disappear again.”
“You sure you’re not still in love with him?” Hana teased.
Mirae hesitated.
“I don’t know what I felt that night. But I know what I feel now—panic.”
The next morning, Mirae arrived at the studio early. She checked her kit twice, adjusted her ponytail, and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach.
The elevator opened, and there he was.
Jihan stepped out, eyes scanning the room until they landed on her.
“You’re early,” he said.
“I like to prepare, sir.”
“Good. I hate chaos.”
He walked toward her, stopped inches away. “You’re not like the others.”
“How do you mean?”
“You don’t try to impress me.”
“I’m here to do my job, not charm you.”
His lips twitched slightly. Was that... amusement?
“Very well,” he said, then turned. “Follow me.”
For the next two hours, Mirae styled him in silence. He didn't talk much. Just a few grunts of approval or disapproval. Yet every brush of her fingers against his collar, every glance, stirred memories she didn’t want to relive.
“You have good hands,” he said suddenly.
Mirae blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re precise. You don’t waste time.”
“I don’t like to waste anything, sir.”
He gave her a look—deep, unreadable.
“Have we met before?” he asked.
Her throat tightened.
“No, sir.”
He stared at her like he didn’t believe it.
That night, Jihan poured himself a drink in his penthouse and pulled up the employee file on his tablet.
Kang Mirae. Age 27. New hire. Former freelance stylist. Single mother.
Single mother?
He frowned.
Something wasn’t right.
He clicked on her profile picture. Something about her face tugged at his memory. A laugh. A song. A night drenched in whiskey and neon lights.
His phone buzzed.
Seo Yuna: “You’re ignoring me again. We need to talk.”
He tossed the phone aside.
Yuna was a storm he didn’t want to deal with.
He went back to Mirae’s file. The name echoed louder now.
Kang Mirae.
Why did it feel like he had whispered it before?
The next day, Seo Yuna strutted into the studio in full diva mode.
When her eyes landed on Mirae, she smirked.
“Oh, you’re the new toy?”
Mirae ignored her, brushing lint from Jihan’s blazer.
“I know his type,” Yuna said loudly. “Pretty face. Quiet mouth. But they never last.”
Jihan stepped in before Mirae could respond.
“Yuna. Leave.”
The air chilled.
She stormed out.
Jihan turned to Mirae. “You okay?”
“I’m used to people like her.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
His voice was softer now.
And Mirae’s heart did the one thing she’d warned it not to do—it skipped.
Later That Night
As she tucked Minjun into bed, he looked up with those same dark eyes.
“Umma, when will Appa come home?”
She swallowed.
“Appa is… far away, baby.”
Minjun blinked, then yawned.
But Mirae couldn’t sleep that night.
Because her biggest secret was now standing inches away from the man who could destroy everything.
And fate? Fate was just getting started.
- Writer
