A woman I hadn't met before greeted me with a polite but distant smile. "You must be Hana. Welcome. I'm Mira, Ji-Hoon's personal assistant. I'll be showing you to your quarters."
I followed her down the hallway, each step feeling more surreal than the last. The floors beneath me were marble, shining as if they had never seen a single scuff. The walls were adorned with framed photograph, pictures of Ji-Hoon at various events, his ever-present smile shining back at me from every corner.
I had seen him before, of course. On TV. On stage. On the cover of magazines. But seeing him here, as a part of his life, was entirely different.
"You'll be working in the guest wing of the house, where the staff lives," Mira explained, breaking my reverie. "It's quiet, and we prefer to keep the staff's quarters separate from Ji-Hoon's. You'll find everything you need there."
"Thank you," I said, my voice small as we reached a door that led into what could only be described as a luxury suite.
This place wasn't for a maid, it was for someone who had already made it big. But as I stepped inside, I realized that everything about this was a reminder of my place in this world. I wasn't here because I belonged. I was here because I had no other choice.
Mira gave me a quick rundown of the house rules. "You'll assist with housekeeping, preparing meals, and any other requests Ji-Hoon might have. Please make sure to stay out of his personal space unless you're called upon. His schedule is strict, and his privacy is paramount. Do you understand?"
"I understand," I said, my voice tight with anticipation.
The hours after that were a bit frustrating. I was introduced to the other staff members, but they all seemed to glide around with practiced ease, while I stumbled through everything I did. There was no room for mistakes here. I had to blend in, be invisible, and make myself useful.
But nothing felt natural. I wasn't here to be just another staff member. I was here for a purpose.
Later in the evening, after dinner, I stood in the kitchen cleaning up, my hands moving robotically. Then, I heard the sound of footsteps. I froze, my heart leaping into my throat.
Ji-Hoon.
He entered the kitchen, his presence unmistakable even before I saw him. I turned, barely able to breathe.
His eyes, dark and intense, flicked over me, pausing for a moment as he took in my presence. He said nothing, his face unreadable.
I lowered my gaze, suddenly aware of how small I felt in his presence, how much I didn't belong here.
"You're the new maid?" he asked, his voice cool but with an edge I couldn't quite place.
"Yes, Mr. Park," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "I'm here to help however I can."
He nodded briefly, then turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing in the empty kitchen.
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
This was it. I had just taken the first real step toward everything I wanted.
But as I stood there, staring after him, the truth settled in, the line between love and revenge was far thinner than I had ever imagined.
****
The days that followed my first encounter with Ji-Hoon felt like they were happening in slow motion. The luxurious house, the distant glances he gave me whenever he noticed I was around, the quiet hum of the house, it all made me feel like I was living in a dream, or maybe a nightmare.
I spent the next few days doing what I had been hired to do: cleaning, organizing, preparing meals, and making sure everything was in order. The staff treated me with a kind of distant politeness, as if they knew something I didn't. Most of them had been working for Ji-Hoon for years, and their familiarity with the house felt like an invisible barrier between them and me. I had to remind myself why I was here. This wasn't just about doing chores, it was about getting close to Ji-Hoon, understanding his world, and most importantly, getting the revenge I had promised my mother, and that can only happen through him.
Every time I saw him, it was like my heart skipped a beat. He was beautiful, there was no denying that. His features were sharp, almost too perfect, with a jawline that looked like it had been chiseled from stone. His dark grey eyes, always guarded, could pierce through anyone with a single glance. But there was something in the way he carried himself, an air of coldness, of isolation, that made it clear he didn't let anyone in easily.
I, on the other hand, had never felt so far from anyone in my life. I was just a maid in his house, a face in the background, completely invisible.
It was late one evening when I found myself in the kitchen again, cleaning up after dinner. Ji-Hoon had been quieter than usual, retreating to his study after his meal. The other staff had gone home for the night, leaving me alone to finish up the chores. The house was eerily silent, and the lights outside the windows cast long shadows across the walls.
I was wiping down the counter when I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps. My pulse quickened. I turned, and there he was, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking every bit the star he was.
He didn't say anything at first. He just stood there, his expression unreadable as he watched me work. I froze, my hands gripped around the dish towel, unsure of what to do next.
"Can I help you, Mr. Park?" I asked, trying to sound confident. But my voice betrayed me, wavering just slightly.
He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised that I had addressed him. "Just Ji-Hoon is fine," he said, his tone casual but with a hint of authority.
I nodded, not sure whether I should feel relieved or more nervous than before. "Of course. Ji-Hoon."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. I turned back to the counter, trying to focus on the dishes in front of me, but the tension in the air was palpable.
Finally, he broke the silence. "You've been here for a few days now. Getting used to the house?" His voice was quieter now, less distant.
I nodded again, feeling a strange flutter in my stomach. "It's... different from what I'm used to, but I'm adjusting."
His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than I expected. "You don't seem like the kind of person who would work here. I mean, no offense, but it's a little hard to picture you in this kind of job."
His words stung, but I masked my reaction. "No offense taken," I replied, keeping my voice steady. "Sometimes you have to do what you have to do."
He seemed to mull over that for a moment, his gaze flickering across my face. "Right," he murmured, almost to himself.
The silence stretched between us again. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, the tension thick in the air. Was this my chance? Should I try to make a move, get closer to him?
Before I could form a coherent thought, Ji-Hoon stepped closer to the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were studying me. "Why did you take this job?" he asked, his voice quiet but direct.
I hesitated. The truth was too complicated, too painful to explain. So, I did what I always did....I lied.
"I needed the work," I said, my tone even. "It's not easy to find a job in this city."
He seemed to accept that answer, though his gaze still lingered on me, searching for something more. But after a moment, he shrugged and stepped back.
"Alright. Just make sure you do your job well. I don't want any trouble." His tone had shifted back to that cold, professional manner, and just like that, the brief connection between us vanished.
"Of course, Ji-Hoon. I'll make sure everything is perfect."
He nodded once and turned to leave. "Good night, Hana. See you tomorrow."
"Good night, Ji-Hoon."
As he walked away, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My heart was still pounding in my chest, my palms slightly sweaty.
That was it. The closest I'd been to him.
I stared at the door he'd just exited through, my thoughts a jumbled mess.
Was it too much to hope for? Could I really get close to him, even after everything that had happened? Could I balance the love I still felt for him with the need for vengeance that burned so fiercely inside me?
I didn't know the answers to those questions, but I was starting to realize that getting what I wanted, getting close to him wasn't going to be easy.
It was going to take more than a few awkward conversations in the kitchen.
****
The next few days were just as difficult as the first. I kept my head down, staying out of Ji-Hoon's way whenever I could. But every time I saw him, every glance we exchanged, I couldn't ignore the pull between us. There was something there. Something real, even if I was too afraid to acknowledge it.
But the more I tried to focus on my job, the more I felt the weight of my mission pressing down on me. The reason I was here wasn't just to clean his house, to serve him. I was here to uncover the truth about the man who had destroyed my family, and to make him pay for what he did.
As the days wore on, I found myself torn between the life I had left behind and the one I was slowly building here, in the shadows of Ji-Hoon's world.
And the question I couldn't shake was this: Would I be able to hold on to the love I still felt for him, or would the fire of revenge consume everything else?
**********
The days blurred into one another. My routine was set: wake up, clean, prepare meals, tend to the house. At night, when the house grew silent, I would curl up in my modest little room, stare at the ceiling, and let the weight of my thoughts crash over me.
But as the days passed, the fleeting moments when Ji-Hoon and I were in the same space felt like tiny, unspoken words that lingered in the air. Every glance he gave me, every brief interaction, seemed to hold more weight than it should. I couldn't help myself, his presence had an effect on me that I wasn't prepared for. Despite everything, despite the revenge I was planning, despite how much they had hurt my family, I couldn't ignore the ache in my chest whenever I saw him.
It was on one faithful evening when I saw him again, this time after he had returned from a photo shoot. I was in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. The house was quiet, and I had the sense that something was about to shift, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why.
Suddenly, I heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching, then the distinct click of the door opening. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I quickly turned, wiping my hands on my apron.
Ji-Hoon stepped into the kitchen, his presence filling the room. He had just finished his photoshoot and still wore the designer clothes from the session, black leather jacket, white shirt that clung to his frame in a way that made my heart skip a beat. His hair was slightly disheveled, a few strands falling into his eyes, and his usual icy demeanor had softened just a bit.
He paused in the doorway, as if unsure of how to proceed. I tried to act normal, though my pulse was racing. I couldn't help but wonder what he wanted. Did he need something?
"Hana," he said, his voice softer than usual. My name on his lips sounded different. More sweet and romantic 🫣. "Do you... have a moment?"