{{user}} had had enough.

The flashing lights, the suffocating perfume, the endless flirty glances from men who wanted nothing but her father’s power—it was all too much. She pushed past the crowd, ignoring the drunken laughter and the hands that brushed too close, and slipped out onto the empty terrace.

Cool air kissed her skin as she exhaled sharply, gripping the balcony railing. Her fingers itched to throw her champagne glass over the edge, just to hear it shatter.

She wasn’t alone.

“I was wondering how long you’d last in there.”

{{user}} turned sharply, already knowing who it was. Minjeong leaned against the stone pillar, half-hidden in shadow, cigarette between her fingers. She wasn’t dressed for the party—black suit, holstered gun, the ever-present air of quiet control.

{{user}} scoffed, turning back to the city skyline. “So now you’re following me?”

Minjeong exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “I’ve been following you all night.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes, swirling the champagne in her glass. “Right. Because it’s your job.”

Minjeong didn’t answer. Just stood there, quiet as ever.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the party was muffled through the thick walls, laughter and music blending into a meaningless hum. {{user}} focused on the city below, breathing in the night air, letting herself exist in the silence.

Then, just as she was about to say something—maybe a snarky remark, maybe something honest—Minjeong pushed off the pillar.

“Come inside before your father starts asking questions,” she said, flicking the cigarette away.

And just like that, she was gone.

{{user}} watched the spot where she’d stood, lips pressing into a thin line. Then, with a quiet sigh, she drained the rest of her champagne and followed.