Even after everything at the hospital, after hearing the real reason for my closeness with his father, Seo Jae Min remains distant. He avoids me like nothing changed. Maybe that bothers me more than I want to admit.

After sharing a truth that should have brought us closer, all that remains is discomfort. An indifference I swallow for the sake of composure.

Mr. Seo, on the other hand, understood my decision. There was no blame. No disappointment. Just that knowing look of his, one that speaks louder than any apology ever could.

"Not thinking about it," I mutter to myself. "Barely time to think as it is."

Tonight is the launch party for Rising Flame's new MV. And the meeting with the president of Nova Sound Entertainment.

We gather the team to review the production's progress. I present the updated cost spreadsheet, breaking down final-phase expenses, adjustments to post-production supplier payments, and what still needs allocation. When I finish, I can feel the approving stares around the room.

As the meeting wraps up, the team’s serious mood begins to shift, anticipation for the night starts to take over.

On my way out, I spot Seo Jae Min talking to his father in one of the corridors. They seem closer. Genuinely. I look away, smile slightly, and head back to my office.

📶 SIGNAL_WEAK // Something’s about to break

The party starts at 10 p.m. And I don't want to be late.

"Tonight, I want good drinks," I tell the mirror, smoothing down my now-straightened hair, the ends curled softly. I pick a silk ivory dress with thin straps and a flowing cut that hugs without trying. Gold mid-heeled sandals. A touch of highlighter, a deep wine lipstick. Done.

I call a cab and head to Gangnam.

Almost everyone’s already here.

I make my rounds. Chat with Nova Sound shareholders, coworkers. Greet Seo Joon Hyuk and his wife with proper formality. Then finally, I congratulate the Rising Flame members.

With alcohol softening the week’s stress, I let myself dance. Not looking for company. But I do scan the room.

And find him.

Seo Jae Min. Impeccable. Tense. Intense.

He stands out in the room like a sharp note in a slow song.

There’s a strange sense of déjà vu. I move the same way I did that first night, without meaning to. And just like then, he watches. From a distance. Like he’s been here before. His gaze glued to me. And even if the scene isn’t new, he still can’t look away.

There’s something magnetic in being watched like that. Not as an object, but as a presence that never left. A silence he still hears.

I head to the bar. Order another drink. But the noise, the heat, the pulsing lights, it pushes me upstairs. To the rooftop of the five-star hotel.

The change is instant. Cool air. The muffled bass from below. Seoul’s city lights stretched out before me. These rooftop spaces carry secrets. Wind brushes my skin. It chills and ignites all at once.

I sip slowly. The drink helps untangle thoughts, or knot them tighter.

I’ve been here before. Alone. Quietly full of unsaid things. Eyes on the skyline, trying to forget what I can’t control.

I don’t like him. But I am drawn to him.

And what I want most tonight is to be seen by him for what I really am: an ally. A bridge between him and his father.

"This is becoming a habit... finding you alone with a drink in hand."

That voice.

"Seo Jae Min!" I say, surprised.

He stands beside me. Silence stretches between us.

"Does this view bring back memories? Or are you just not afraid of heights?" he asks, eyes on me, more suggestion than question. Just like that first time.

"Neither."

A lie. But I’m too caught off guard for something clever.

He smiles. Brief.

"Want to talk about my father?"

I nod.

"Last time didn’t go well. But if you’re willing to try again..."

"Thank you. And... I’m sorry."

I don’t answer. Because what I have to say needs more than he’s ready to hear.

"What if he dies? What do I do? What about the company? Can I even handle it?"

He smells like whiskey. And fear.

"He’s still here. And you’re not alone. You have Mizuki. The company’s in good hands. Be a good son. That’s all."

He takes another sip.

"About Mizuki... it’s not official. Just... something happening."

I smile. No sarcasm.

"You don’t owe me an explanation."

He laughs. For the first time, it sounds real.

Then silence again. Until:

"Isabelle..."

"Hm?"

"Don’t get the wrong idea... me apologizing doesn’t change what we are. We’re not friends. We’re not close. And I’m not the kind of man who should be here with you right now."

He looks at my mouth, caught between stepping back or stepping in. Like he’s standing at the edge of something dangerous.

"And do I seem like the kind of woman who should be here, pretending I’m not feeling exactly what you are?"

I glance at his lips. Full. Parted. Hesitant.

Neither of us moves away. Neither can. But no one dares to break the silence first.

Three years. So different. And yet we always end up here. At this same tension. Where silence becomes memory. And desire, an old addiction.

He steps closer. I don’t back down. There’s a stretch of time between us, tight and trembling with everything unsaid.

"Can I?" he whispers. Breath shallow. Eyes locked on mine. Asking permission he already knows I’ll give.

I nod. Soft. Eyes closed.

The kiss happens.

But this time, it’s not just want. It’s memory. Bitterness. Unresolved tenderness.

A long kiss. Full of everything we left behind. My fingers slide into his hair. His skin burns beneath mine. Mine hums under his.

Our eyes meet mid-kiss. We don’t speak. We don’t need to. His eyes ask if I remember. Mine answer that I never forgot.

It’s not like that first night. Not impulsive. But something long-suppressed, finally surfacing. Nostalgia with a body. A name. A taste.

The glasses we held drop to the ground, as if our hands know the only thing to hold onto now is each other.

For a moment, we are everything we shouldn’t be. And everything we want to be.

His hands search me. He presses me against the wall. One hand slips lower, finding the slit of my dress. His fingers trace my thigh. I feel him tremble. His breath hot against my skin.

My lips part, meeting his again.

"I think about that night more than I should," he whispers. "And if we were anywhere else, Isabelle... I’d say sorry the only way I know would make you forgive me."

"Don’t say that," I breathe. "Or I might not forgive you on purpose."

He closes his eyes. A dangerous second. Like trying to keep control.

His hand trails my back. The other grips my thigh. Slowly, he lifts it around his waist, pulling me closer. Pinning me between the wall and him.

"Isabelle..."

"You need to stop saying my name like that," I whisper, voice shaking. I can’t think rationally about how wrong this is. Or where we are.

He smiles against my mouth.

And kisses me again.

Then, footsteps. Mr. Seo’s voice.

We pull apart fast. The world spins back into motion.

Jae Min moves quickly. Guides me to the rooftop’s edge, behind a decorative wall of plants. He adjusts his collar. Smooths his hair. Steps out calmly.

"Appa!" he says easily. "I was just showing Isabelle the view for our next campaign. Thought we could use the city’s lights as inspiration for the teaser."

"Ah..." Mr. Seo nods. Surprised. But not suspicious. "Sounds like a good idea."

Jae Min glances back at me. Brief. Measured.

And for once, he includes me in the lie without hesitation.

My body’s still reeling. My lips taste like memory. And yet, I’m expected to slip into someone else, the poised, professional version of myself that this party demands. It’s dizzying, the speed with which I have to rewrite my expression. Rewrite us.

"It really is a stunning view. We’re thinking of designing visuals that echo Seoul’s nighttime energy," I say, stepping forward, voice steady.

Mr. Seo smiles, pleased.

"I like it. It’s nice to see the two of you working in sync."

Everyone nods, satisfied. The rest of the team following his lead.

I exchange a look with Jae Min.

No more touches. No more words.

Just the silent truth:

We crossed a line.

And nothing will ever be the same again.