The sun barely peeked over the horizon when I opened my eyes. It wasn't the soft light that woke me, it was the familiar hum of my alarm clock, pulling me from the warmth of my bed. I groaned, my body protesting as I stretched beneath the thin covers. Another day. Another grind.

I didn't need to check the time. I knew what it meant.

"Late again," I muttered to myself, forcing my limbs to move. The reality of my small, unremarkable life hit me as soon as my feet touched the floor. I had no time to lie in bed, no luxury to indulge in the simple pleasure of staying still. Not with the bills stacking up, not with the never-ending list of things to do.

My apartment wasn't much. It was small, one room with just enough space for a bed, a tiny kitchen nook, and a cramped bathroom. The walls were bare, except for a few framed pictures I'd put up when I first moved in. I liked it here, though. It was mine. The only thing I had.

I sighed and glanced at the clock again. 6:15 AM. I needed to hurry.

I'd been awake for less than five minutes, but I was already in motion, throwing on clothes that I'd worn too many times to count. A faded shirt and some old jeans I'd picked up from the second-hand shop down the street. I didn't mind the clothes. In fact, I preferred them this way. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. Besides, people like me didn't have the luxury of worrying about appearances. Not when survival was the only thing that mattered.

The next few hours were a blur: getting dressed, packing a small lunch, grabbing a cup of coffee on the go, and rushing out the door. The walk to the café wasn't far, just a ten-minute trek through the bustling streets of Seoul. I could hardly count how many times I'd made this journey. This city, full of dreams and high-rises, felt small in comparison to the life I had.

But that was fine. I didn't mind. At least I was working. At least I was paying rent and surviving.

I pushed open the door to the café and was hit by the familiar scent of espresso, warm pastries, and the low hum of early morning conversations. The world outside might have been loud and chaotic, but here, behind the counter, everything felt simple. I found my usual spot in the kitchen, where I worked as a barista, and immediately set to work.

My routine was always the same, but it didn't bother me. I liked the predictability of it. It kept my mind off other things, the things I couldn't control.

But there was one thing that always found its way into my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried to focus on work.

Ji-Hoon Park.

Just the thought of his name made my stomach flip. I couldn't even remember the first time I'd heard his music. All I knew was that it felt like fate when I first saw him perform live. I'd been at a concert with a few friends, but as soon as Ji-Hoon had stepped onto the stage, everything else had faded away. His voice, his presence, the way he moved, he was like nothing I had ever seen before.

It was more than just his looks, though. It was the way he seemed so... perfect. Like he was someone from a world I could never touch, yet something inside me dared to believe otherwise.

I didn't even dare to dream of meeting him. It was ridiculous. People like me, with no money, no connections, how could someone like Ji-Hoon even notice someone like me?

But that didn't stop me from following his career. I knew everything about him, every interview, every song, every little detail the tabloids had somehow managed to dig up. I followed his Instagram, his fan pages, even the online fan forums where I could read about his daily activities. It was my way of staying close, even when I knew it was impossible.

One night, after a particularly long shift at the café, I sat in front of my computer screen and watched him live-streaming a Q&A with his fans. It had been a few months since the last one, and I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I couldn't help it. I had to watch.

There he was, his face lighting up the screen, his smile making my heart race. He greeted his fans, his voice as smooth and calming as ever, and I felt like I could drown in it.

"Thank you for your support," Ji-Hoon said, looking into the camera, his eyes meeting the lens. I couldn't help but feel like he was speaking directly to me. "I wouldn't be here without you."

It was a line he probably said every time, but it felt different to me. As if, for just a second, he had made eye contact with every single person watching. It was silly, I knew. He probably didn't even know I existed. He couldn't. People like him didn't notice people like me.

And yet, as I sat there, staring at his face on the screen, something deep inside me stirred, a tiny ember of hope.

Maybe one day, I would meet him. Maybe one day, I could tell him how much his music had meant to me, how it had been my escape from a life I never asked for. Maybe one day, I'd be more than just a fan in the crowd.

But that was a fantasy. A daydream. Nothing more.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. I woke up, worked long hours, came home, and tried to get some sleep. But the thought of Ji-Hoon never fully left my mind. It wasn't healthy. I knew that. I had friends who teased me about it, who joked that I should just marry him already.

But the truth was, I didn't think anyone could ever understand. My feelings for him weren't just about his fame. It was something deeper, something way more personal. Something that had been buried inside me since that first concert.

It wasn't until one evening that everything shifted.

I had just finished my shift at the café when Soo-jin, my best friend, called me. I stepped outside to take the call, brushing the sweat off my brow. The air was thick with humidity, typical for Seoul in the summer.

"Hana," Soo-jin's voice was light, teasing. "Did you hear the news?"

I felt a jolt in my chest, my pulse quickening. "What news?"

"Ji-Hoon's agency is hiring!" Soo-jin exclaimed. "They're looking for a personal maid."

My stomach dropped. "What? Are you serious?"

"I'm serious! They're looking for someone to help out with his apartment. Maybe you should apply!"

I stared at the ground, my thoughts racing. Was this real? Could I, no, this was crazy. People like me didn't get opportunities like that. But the thought of working for him, even as just a maid, was like a dream. It was the closest I could ever get to him.

I swallowed, trying to push down the excitement that bubbled inside me. "I don't know, Soo-jin. I'm not cut out for that kind of thing."

"Come on, Hana. You've got the right attitude. You can do this. If anyone can make it, it's you."

I wasn't sure if it was the heat or the adrenaline, but I found myself nodding. "I'll think about it."

But I knew. I knew that this might be my one shot. If I didn't at least try, I'd regret it for the rest of my life.

So, I sent in my application.

This was just the beginning