Chapter 4
“Why, there's that company partnered with Logitex. Nobcore.”
Nobcore boasted one of the highest market caps among American semiconductor firms, and lately it had become the cornerstone stock for Korea's heavyweight investors.
From smartphones and cars to even military missiles—any machine worth its salt was built on Nobcore designs. It was a spin-off from one of the most renowned semiconductor giants on U.S. soil, practically the golden child that had struck it big.
Everyone agreed that once AI tech really took off, its dominance would be absolute.
Recently, they'd started collaborating with Logitex, the only domestic firm with production lines capable of turning their designs into chips. That had cemented Nobcore's massive influence in Korea since 2020.
Everyone knew the name, but it landed so out of left field that puzzled looks rippled through the group.
“Why bring them up?”
“There's a woman in a common-law marriage with their CEO. Anna Yoo. She dotes on her so much she even made her the strategy director handling Korea ops...”
To sum up the story that followed: Anna Yoo—Yoo Soo-hee in Korean—had lost her sister in a freak accident. She'd raised the woman's daughter like her own in devoted care. Then one day, the girl headed out for a hike and vanished.
Half out of her mind, Soo-hee threw every resource she had into the search but came up empty. She threw herself into work to cope with the grief.
Everyone buzzed that it had to be a hiking accident or a trafficking ring. But Soo-hee never gave up, scouring for her niece for over a decade... and finally, as if her tireless efforts had paid off, the girl came back alive.
“Anyway, there was a ton of talk. Like she slacked off because it wasn't her own kid, and that's what caused it.”
Weary of the gossip—or maybe for other reasons—Soo-hee had taken the Korea branch presidency, brought her niece back with her, and moved into that very penthouse.
“Bigger fish than I thought living next door.”
“You could say that.”
They shrugged and fell silent for a beat. Even among these people—who lacked for nothing—relative deprivation was a real thing. They'd been itching to haze the new neighbor, but now the vibe deflated.
One sharp-eyed woman caught on quick and opened with a sly grin.
“But get this...”
Curiosity flickered back to life on the uneasy faces.
“Anna Yoo? Rumor has it she's been more than friendly with Hosung Group's Chairman Baek.”
The fresh kindling sparked sly exchanged glances and nasty smirks.
“Really? News to me.”
A lot of folks bonded by tearing others down or venting negativity, and it didn't matter if they were sipping hundred-grand tea sets for fun. The evening was deepening, and their target du jour was the mysterious new neighbor who'd shown up out of nowhere.
***
Knock knock.
Ha-jin, brushing her hair at the vanity, glanced at the door reflected in the mirror.
“Yes. Come in.”
With permission granted, someone cracked the door cautiously and peeked in. It was Im Yeo-sa, who'd been the house's housekeeper for over a decade.
“Miss, you busy?”
“No. Come on in.”
The atmosphere had been nail-bitingly tense for the past few weeks. Yoo Soo-hee, newly appointed as Nobcore Korea branch president, was set for her official launch with the press after returning home. And today—a few days earlier—was her birthday.
The invite-only birthday bash for handpicked VIPs was basically a rally for her inner circle. No exaggeration. She was putting even more effort into it than the launch event itself, which had everyone, Ha-jin included, running ragged.
“It's just that Madam asked me to pass something along.”
“What is it?”
Im Yeo-sa approached Ha-jin, eyeing her up and down with a pleased smile.
“Oh my god. You must've taken lessons just for makeup and hair. How are you this pretty?”
Ha-jin's hand paused mid-stroke on her freshly waved locks.
“You can always call in salon pros, but if you can't handle basic primping yourself, you're just amateur hour. You've gotta know what styles suit your face, how to look crisp and put-together.”
It was the total opposite of the harsh critiques she'd gotten back when she was clueless about dressing properly, ages ago.
“It's nothing fancy, just the basics.”
Ha-jin smiled softly, meeting Im Yeo-sa's eyes in the mirror and nodding. The housekeeper lifted what was draped over her arm.
“Take a look at this. A gift from Madam.”
She might as well have unveiled it with a fanfare—minus the sound effects. It was a single black satin dress, so luxurious you could almost feel its buttery softness just looking at it.
“Ah...”
“Isn't it gorgeous? A few days ago, she was flipping through catalogs at home and spotted this new piece. 'Perfect for the young miss,' she said, and called Director Cha right then and there.”
Madam's love for her one and only niece runs this deep, Im Yeo-sa gushed, beaming like she'd gotten the gift herself as she went on about her employer.
Ha-jin trailed her fingertips slowly over the dress laid across her lap. The shiveringly smooth texture promised it'd hug her body just right. After staring at it for a long moment, she spoke.
“So, I should put it on now...”
“Ma'am.”
“Yes?”
Ha-jin flashed a picture-perfect smile.
“I'm almost done getting ready. Mind stepping out?”
“Oh dear... look at me. Sorry, miss.”
Im Yeo-sa clapped a hand over her mouth and backed away with an awkward, apologetic chuckle.
“Finish up and come down when you're ready.”
“Sure.”
Ha-jin saw her off with polite, even composure to the end, then gazed at her reflection. For someone plagued by nightmares night after night, her skin was impossibly clear, her eyes bright and alive.
Of course it was. Three squares a day of gourmet meals tailored to her body's needs, plus regular spa visits for hair and skin care. She smirked cynically at the thought, and the fresh-faced woman in the mirror smirked right back.
In the old days, she couldn't have dreamed of treating anyone—not just Im Yeo-sa—with that perfect blend of firm poise and cool detachment.
“Acting all subservient like that, fumbling when you should be commanding respect? You have no idea how pathetic it makes you look.”
The icy voice and pitying stare floated up unbidden. Old habits died hard—they couldn't be swapped out or hidden flawlessly. So she'd strived to overhaul herself like a machine with every worn part replaced, from one to ten.
Truth be told, nothing about her now was the same. She'd beaten herself mercilessly into this shape.
She peered into the mirror as if searching for some lingering shard of the past, but she and that girl were the same person—and yet worlds apart after all this time. She wasn't Shin Ha-jin anymore. She'd been living as Yoo Ha-jin for ages. Some things, once crossed, could never be undone. Like Myeong-hyeon's death.
Ha-jin let a faint, resigned smile curve her lips, then rose to her feet. It was time to tackle the challenges waiting ahead, one by one.