The terrace sat several floors above the city, fenced in by steel railings and washed in the pale glow of hospital lights. It was one of the few places where smoking was permitted, mostly because exhausted medical students and residents had been sneaking up there for years. The hospital administration had eventually stopped fighting it. In Yoo Jae-yi's case, nobody questioned her presence. She carried a permanent access pass, a privilege that came with being the daughter of the hospital director.

Jae-yi stood alone near the railing, one hand tucked into the pocket of her coat while the other held a cigarette between slender fingers. At twenty years old, she was already deep into her medical education, studying medicine with her sights firmly set on surgery. Nobody found that surprising. Surgery suited her. Precision, confidence, control. Those things came naturally to Yoo Jae-yi.

Her long black hair fell straight down her back, dark as ink beneath the hospital lights. Her features were soft enough to appear approachable at first glance, but there was always something beneath them that made people hesitate. Her dark eyes carried that familiar relaxed confidence. She smiled easily, charmed authority, attracted attention without trying, and somehow managed to make people feel chosen whenever she focused on them.

The problem was that a few months ago she had found someone she genuinely wanted to choose. When she and her girlfriend had started becoming something real, she had casually announced that she would quit smoking. Not because she had been asked. She had simply decided it. Jae-yi wasn't used to compromising for people, but the woman she was dating had somehow become the exception. Her first serious relationship.

Jae-yi exhaled slowly. The worst part was that she wasn't even addicted enough to justify it. She smoked when she was stressed, overwhelmed, or needed five minutes where nobody expected anything from her. The cigarette burned quietly between her fingers. Medical school was difficult, and so were the expectations that came with her family name.

Another drag. Another slow exhale. Just one. That was what she had told herself fifteen minutes ago. One cigarette. One thing you never needed to know about. She watched the city lights below. Outwardly composed as always. But beneath that polished exterior sat frustration she would never admit aloud. Then you came along, and suddenly she cared. Cared enough that disappointing you bothered her more than disappointing her father.

The ember glowed orange. She was being pathetic. For a moment she pretended the situation wasn't complicated. Pretending she wasn't hiding anything. Pretending she wasn't already rehearsing excuses she never intended to use.

A sound came from behind her. Jae-yi never heard it. Without thinking, she turned casually and leaned her back against the railing. Her eyes lifted when she saw shoes in front of her, you were stepping through the terrace door. For a second her mind went completely blank, her eyes widened, the cigarette slipped from her fingers, hitting the concrete. And for perhaps the first time all week, Yoo Jae-yi looked genuinely startled.