Chapter 7

The moment Ara Jeon stepped into the university hallway, she felt it—whispers, glances, the weight of unspoken words pressing against her. But she ignored them. She had already learned that people would talk no matter what.

The real problem, however, was the person standing in front of her.

Arianna Park.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, time seemed to rewind. In high school, Ara had never feared Arianna—she had always met her challenges head-on, confident in her abilities. She was the top student in modeling, the girl who walked like she owned every stage.

But that girl had died the night she was left broken in the streets.

Still, as she stood here now, facing Arianna again, something inside her stirred.

Arianna smiled, the kind of smile that wasn't warm but wasn't entirely cruel either. It was the smile of someone who had been waiting for this moment.

"Ara Jeon," Arianna mused, tilting her head. "I thought you disappeared for good."

Ara remained silent, gripping the strap of her bag.

Arianna's friends giggled behind her, their eyes filled with amusement. One of them scoffed. "So, after all this time, you finally decided to crawl back to society?"

"Maybe she got tired of hiding," another added, smirking.

Ara clenched her jaw. The old her would have shot back with a sharp remark, unafraid of confrontation. But the new her—the one who had spent months trying to convince herself that she was strong—knew words alone weren't enough anymore.

Arianna took a step forward, her voice laced with amusement. "You know, I always told you, Ara… You weren't made for the fashion industry. You were just a distraction in my life."

A quiet laugh escaped Ara's lips. It wasn't out of humor, but something else. Something bitter.

"You really think that?" she asked, her voice calm. "You really think I was just a distraction?"

Arianna raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you? You wasted years competing with me, trying to prove something you were never meant to be. And look at you now—you lost everything."

Ara exhaled sharply through her nose. "And yet, here I am. Standing right in front of you."

Arianna's smirk faltered just slightly.

Ara continued, her voice steady. "You're right. I lost everything. I lost the life I built, I lost the future I thought I'd have… I lost myself." She took a step closer. "But I didn't disappear. And I'm not broken beyond repair."

Arianna's friends scoffed. "You're acting tough now? Like you didn't spend the last year running away?"

Ara turned to them, her expression unreadable. "Do you have any idea what I went through?"

The laughter stopped.

Arianna's eyes narrowed. "We all know what happened, Ara. We all heard the rumors. And if you expect me to pity you—"

"Are you pitying me?" Ara cut her off.

The sharpness of her words left Arianna momentarily speechless.

Ara's heart was pounding, but she didn't let it show. "I never needed your pity, Arianna. I never needed anyone's. Do you really think I came back just to be looked down on?"

Arianna let out a quiet chuckle, but there was something new in her gaze—something thoughtful. "You've changed."

Ara nodded. "Of course, I have. Because I had no other choice."

Arianna crossed her arms, observing her carefully. Then, after a long pause, she said, "Good."

Ara blinked. "…What?"

Arianna smirked, but this time, it lacked its usual cruelty. "You finally know where you belong. You finally know your own path."

Her friends looked at her in confusion, but Arianna ignored them. She simply turned and began walking away, leaving everyone—including Ara—stunned.

Ara stood there, her hands clenched at her sides.

She wasn't the same confident girl she used to be. That confidence had been stolen from her, ripped away in the most brutal way possible.

But maybe… just maybe… she was starting to find a new kind of strength.

One that no one could take from her ever again.

As the last class of the day ended, Ara Jeon gathered her belongings and stepped out of the university building. The sky had begun to darken, the golden hues of the sunset blending into the cool blues of the evening. Today had been exhausting—not just physically, but mentally. Confronting Arianna had drained her, but at the same time, she felt something new stirring inside her.

She wasn't broken. She wasn't weak.

She was still standing.

But right now, she needed to hurry.

The city streets were busier than usual, packed with people rushing to their destinations. She glanced at her watch and cursed under her breath—she was late for her part-time job at the café.

Dodging through the crowd, she quickened her pace. The sounds of honking cars, chattering pedestrians, and occasional street performers filled the air. Just as she turned a corner, she collided hard into someone, almost falling backward.

A strong hand caught her arm, steadying her.

Ara's entire body tensed.

Her breath hitched as a cold shiver ran down her spine. The sudden touch made her stomach twist with fear, her mind flashing back to that terrible night—the rough hands, the suffocating darkness, the pain.

For a moment, she couldn't move. She wanted to pull away, to run.

"Are you alright?" a deep, controlled voice asked.

She snapped back to reality, yanking her arm free as she took a step back, her heart hammering inside her chest.

The man in front of her was tall, well-dressed in an expensive three-piece suit, and clearly much older—perhaps in his late forties or early fifties. His neatly combed hair and sharp gaze gave away his status. This wasn't just any man—he was someone important.

He studied her, his expression unreadable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, in a calm yet assessing tone, he asked, "Have you ever been in the fashion industry?"

Ara froze.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, confusion flashing across her face. "What…?"

The man's piercing gaze didn't waver. "I asked if you've ever been in the fashion industry."

Ara hesitated before shaking her head. "No, never." Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled slightly.

He hummed thoughtfully, then reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a sleek black business card. With a small smile, he extended it to her.

"You'll need this later," he said.

Ara stared at the card, then back at him. "What do you mean?"

"You'll understand when the time comes."

She hesitated before slowly taking the card from his hand. The name and logo printed on it were unfamiliar to her, but it was clearly a fashion-related company.

Before she could ask anything else, the man gave her one last glance, then walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Ara stood there for a moment, staring down at the card in her hand.

Her heart was still beating too fast, her skin still tingling with the ghost of that touch.

What just happened?

And why did it feel like her past—the very thing she had been running from—was about to catch up with her again?

She clenched the card in her hand, her jaw tightening.

No.

She didn't want this. She didn't want to go back to that world. The world that had once been her dream had turned into her worst nightmare. Fashion had been her passion, but now it only reminded her of betrayal, of lost innocence, of a life that had been stolen from her.

She had already given up on that dream.

All she wanted was a fresh start—a new path where she wasn't defined by her past.

Without hesitation, she shoved the card deep into her bag, determined to forget about it.

She took a deep breath, forcing her mind back to reality.

She was late.

That was the only thing that mattered right now.

Pushing her thoughts aside, she turned and hurried toward the café, unaware that this small encounter had already started changing the course of her life.