The sun had barely risen when Kang Seol was awakened by the sound of knocking on the door. Groaning, she swung her legs off the bed, stretched lazily, and shuffled toward the front door. Peering through the peephole, she saw a young delivery man standing outside with a box in his hands.
"Delivery for Kang Seol," the man said with a polite smile when she opened the door.
"I didn't order anything," Seol muttered, eyeing the box suspiciously.
"It's prepaid. Must be from someone else," the man replied, handing her the package and leaving quickly.
She set the box on the table and carefully opened it. Inside was a sleek black envelope with her name scrawled in neat handwriting. Her brows furrowed as she pulled out the letter.
"Meet me at the rooftop café near Han River at noon. It's important."
The note wasn't signed, but Seol's gut told her exactly who it was from. "Jung Haesung," she muttered under her breath, her expression hardening.
By noon, Seol arrived at the café as instructed, her cap pulled low over her eyes and her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. The rooftop was quiet, with only a few patrons enjoying the winter sun.
Haesung was already there, sitting at a table near the edge, sipping a cup of coffee. Unlike the bloodied figure she had seen the night before, he looked calm and composed, dressed in a tailored dark suit that only added to his intimidating aura.
"You came," he said without looking up, his voice smooth and measured.
"I almost didn't," Seol replied as she pulled out a chair and sat across from him. "What do you want?"
Haesung finally met her gaze, his eyes sharp and unreadable. "It's about your grandfather."
Seol's jaw tightened. "What about him?"
Haesung leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "You're in danger, Seol. And so is he. There are people looking for answers—answers that only he has."
Seol crossed her arms, her skepticism evident. "You're being awfully vague. Why should I trust anything you say?"
Before Haesung could respond, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen and frowned. "We don't have much time. Just know this: your grandfather's past is far more complicated than you realize. Protect him, and stay alert. I'll handle the rest."
As he stood to leave, Seol grabbed his wrist, her grip firm. "Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"
Haesung paused, his gaze softening for just a moment. "Let's just say I owe your grandfather a debt I can never repay."
With that, he pulled away and disappeared down the stairs, leaving Seol with more questions than answers.
Later that evening, as Seol sat in the dim light of her living room, her grandfather shuffled into the room with a worn-out blanket draped over his shoulders.
"You're thinking too much again," he said, his voice gentle yet knowing.
Seol looked up at him, her eyes searching for the truth she desperately needed. "Grandpa, what happened in the past? Why is Jung Haesung so involved in our lives?"
Her grandfather's expression darkened, and for the first time, she saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes.
"Some secrets are better left buried, Seol," he said quietly before retreating to his room, leaving her alone with the weight of his words.
The next day, Seol couldn't shake the heaviness lingering in her chest. Her grandfather's words echoed in her mind, and Haesung's cryptic warning only added to her turmoil. What secrets was her grandfather hiding, and why was Haesung, a man with such a commanding presence, seemingly indebted to him?
Deciding she couldn't sit idle any longer, Seol made her way to the old storage room tucked away in the back of their modest home. It was a place her grandfather rarely allowed anyone to enter, filled with dusty boxes, faded photographs, and relics of the past.
Sliding open the creaky door, she was met with the faint scent of age and neglect. Her eyes scanned the room, and she began rummaging through the boxes, determined to find some kind of clue.
Her fingers grazed a small, locked metal box buried under a pile of old newspapers. Intrigued, she pulled it out and set it on the table. The lock looked ancient, but with a little persistence—and a bobby pin—she managed to pry it open.
Inside was a collection of old documents, photographs, and a leather-bound journal. Seol's heart raced as she flipped through the pages, her eyes widening with each revelation. There were coded notes, names of people she didn't recognize, and references to events that seemed to involve underground organizations and dangerous dealings.
At the bottom of the box was a photograph of her grandfather, much younger, standing alongside a group of men. To her shock, one of them bore a striking resemblance to Jung Haesung—but it wasn't him. It was an older man, almost identical to Haesung, though the photo seemed to be decades old.
"What the…" Seol whispered, her fingers trembling as she held the photo.
Her brows furrowed. If this man wasn't Haesung, then who was he? And what connection did he have to her grandfather?
Before she could process it further, a sudden noise outside startled her. She quickly shoved the contents back into the box and closed it, her instincts telling her to stay alert.
Meanwhile, across town, Haesung stood in a dimly lit room, his phone pressed to his ear. His subordinate, the same man who had been with him during the bloody ordeal, stood nearby, arms crossed.
"She's starting to dig," Haesung said, his tone calm but laced with tension. "It won't be long before she uncovers everything."
A voice on the other end responded, low and gravelly. "That's a risk we can't afford. If she finds out the truth, it could put everyone in danger."
Haesung's jaw tightened. "I'll handle it. But I'm warning you—if anyone tries to harm her or her grandfather, they'll answer to me."
Ending the call, Haesung turned to his subordinate. "Prepare the team. We need to keep a closer eye on her."
The man nodded. "Understood, boss. But… are you sure she can be trusted? If she gets too close to the truth—"
"She's not the threat," Haesung interrupted, his voice firm. "The ones after her grandfather are."
Later that night, as Seol sat in her room, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of her grandfather's voice calling her name. She hurried to the living room, where he sat in his old armchair, his face pale and his hands trembling.
"Grandpa, are you okay?" she asked, kneeling beside him.
He nodded weakly but avoided her gaze. "Seol, there's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's about my past… and why Haesung is involved."
Her heart raced as she leaned closer, hanging on his every word.
"Years ago, I was part of something dangerous," he confessed, his eyes filled with regret. "I made choices that put people in harm's way, choices I thought were for the greater good. Haesung's grandpa… he was one of the few who stood by me, even when things went wrong. He owes me nothing, Seol. If anything, I owe him."
Seol's mind swirled with questions, but before she could speak, a loud crash from outside sent her instincts into overdrive.
"Stay here," she said firmly, grabbing the nearest object she could use as a weapon—a heavy metal flashlight—and heading toward the source of the noise.
As she stepped out into the cold night, her eyes scanned the shadows. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, a sense of foreboding washing over her.
"Who's there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.
From the darkness emerged a figure she didn't recognize—a man dressed in all black, his face obscured by a mask. He didn't speak, but his stance was aggressive.
Seol tightened her grip on the flashlight, ready for a fight. But before she could make a move, another shadow appeared—Haesung.
With swift, calculated movements, Haesung disarmed the intruder, pinning him to the ground. His expression was as cold as ice as he looked down at the man.
"You picked the wrong target," he said, his voice dripping with menace.
Seol stood frozen, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to come together. Whatever her grandfather's past was, it was clear that the danger Haesung warned her about was very real—and it had just arrived at her doorstep.
The next morning, Seol approached Haesung, the photograph from the box in her hand. She held it up, her gaze sharp.
"This man," she said. "Who is he? And why does he look exactly like you?"
Haesung stared at the photo, his expression unreadable. "That's my grandfather," he finally said, his tone heavy with meaning.
"And what does he have to do with my grandfather?" Seol demanded.
Haesung's jaw tightened. "Everything."