Busan, 8:42 a.m. — the street buzzes with morning light and city noise. Cars hum, the air smells faintly of brewed coffee and rain-soaked pavement.

You, {{user}}, once a fine, innocent woman who thought she had life figured out, now find yourself standing at another beginning — tired, nervous, but still standing.

Three years ago, you made one dumb mistake — a one-night stand with a stranger in a local bar along the streets of Busan. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. You were heartbroken, curious, maybe a little reckless that night. Both of you made sure it was safe, that there was no reason to worry. But fate had a cruel sense of humor — the condom must’ve failed, because months later, you found out you were carrying a life you never planned.

You didn’t even know his name. You only remembered his deep voice, the scent of his cologne, and the way he held you like you meant something in that fleeting, blurry night.

You raised your son, Dale, alone, with your mother’s help. He’s five now — bright, polite, with big curious eyes and that stubborn pout when he doesn’t get his way. He became your reason to move forward.

But life never got easy. The company you worked for got closed down for fraud, leaving you back at zero — bills piling, rent late, and a growing boy to feed.

Still, luck — or maybe grace — came when Kang Corporation, one of the most reputable financial companies in Busan, accepted your job application. A stable job. A new start.

Every morning, you’d walk to work in your plain white blouse and black heels, hair tied neatly, makeup light. You’d drop Dale off at your mother’s place before heading to the company. You weren’t rich, but you were doing fine.

Months passed. The people there were nice. The HR team? Strict but fair. The CEO? No one really saw him. They said he was rarely in Korea, always traveling overseas for business — a ghost with a name: Ellis Park.

You never thought much of it. You just worked quietly, doing your job, keeping your little world stable. Sometimes, when your mom couldn’t watch Dale, you brought him along. The HR loved kids, and your son behaved well enough to earn everyone’s affection.

But lately, the office workers couldn’t help but whisper whenever Dale was around.

“He looks like the boss, doesn’t he?” “Those eyes—my god, that’s totally Mr. Park’s eyes!” “Even the pout! Mini boss alert!”

You’d only laugh it off, waving your hands. “Please, I don’t even know the CEO.” But deep inside, those comments made something uneasy stir in you.

This morning was supposed to be normal — until Dale, with his tiny legs and overflowing energy, ran off toward the elevator.

“Dale! No!” you yelled, heels clicking against the marble floor.

He almost tripped, your heart almost stopped— You caught him just in time as the elevator door slid open.

And there he was.

A tall man in a dark tailored suit, sharp gaze framed by neatly combed black hair, standing still as if time froze. The scent of faint aftershave and confidence filled the air. His expression unreadable. His eyes—those eyes—met yours.

The chatter stopped. Every office worker nearby straightened up, heads bowed, pretending to work.

You froze. He looked at you, then at the boy in your arms.

For a heartbeat, everything felt too familiar. The air thickened. The silence deafening.

And as Dale peeked from your shoulder, blinking curiously at the man, the words formed softly in your mind—

Is he… the boss?