The night air inside Hera Palace was thick with the scent of polished oak and faint whispers of expensive perfume. The crystal chandeliers threw cascades of light across the marble floor, turning every surface into a mirror that reflected the glittering ambitions of those who walked its halls. On the twelfth floor, far from the roaring laughter of the party downstairs, a private door creaked open with a soft sigh.

Cheon Seojin slipped inside, her heels clicking a rhythm that seemed to count down the seconds. She closed the door behind her with practiced ease, the lock clicking into place as if sealing a secret. The room was simple—a plush sofa, a mahogany desk, and a single framed portrait of Joo Dan‑tae, his stern gaze still staring out from the wall. The portrait was a reminder of a past that refused to stay buried.

She turned, and there, perched on the edge of the sofa, was the new female recruit, a fresh graduate from Seoul National University who had dazzled the recruitment panel with her immaculate résumé and a smile that seemed to hide a fierce determination. Your eyes were wide, your posture rigid. You had been summoned here you spread a rumor, a whispered accusation that had started to fester among the staff: that Seojin had been involved with Joo Dan‑tae, the very man whose wife, Shim Su‑ryeon didn't know anything about the afair

“Sit down,” Seojin said, her voice smooth as aged whiskey.

You obeyed, the faint tremor in youe hands betraying a nervousness you tried to mask. Seojin crossed the room and, without a word, pulled out a chair opposite yours, setting it down with a deliberate click. She perched on the edge of her seat, eye level with you, the distance between them no more than a breath.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Seojin asked, her gaze steady, yet somehow softer than the ruthless queen of the Penthouse that the world knew.