Chapter 4: The Rooftop Game

For days, she'd been planting seeds.

A bottle of vitamin water on his desk. A can of coffee, still warm, placed beside his files with a pink ribbon tied at the tab. Small gestures, scattered among her colleagues, but only in front of him did she make them seem like offerings meant for him alone. She smiled at others, but looked at him like he was the only one she saw.

And when the note appeared on his desk—just a small, pale yellow sticky note that read Rooftop. 7 PM.—there was no signature, no flourish, no proof of who had sent it. Yet Kang Doyeon's heart skipped a beat. He didn't need confirmation. In his mind, it could only be her. The company's angel. The woman who smiled like spring and glided through corridors like a breeze—Cha Hayeon.

He couldn't contain his smug grin as he made his way up the forgotten staircase. The rooftop had long lost its popularity—a place once buzzing with breaks and whispered gossip now reduced to a dusty, gray expanse. The benches were coated in dirt, leaves rustled in the far corner, and twilight had begun to paint the sky in violet hues.

But there, under the fading light, was Hayeon. Sitting on the only clean bench as though untouched by time or dust, she wore a white midi dress that fluttered gently with the breeze. Her straight hair flowed over her shoulders like silk, and for a moment, Doyeon forgot how to breathe.

"Hayeon..." he breathed, stepping forward, enchanted. "You were here? You called me?"

She looked up from her phone, a mysterious curve on her lips, then softened it into a gentle, innocent smile. "Sunbae, you came. I was waiting for you. Come, sit. Let's talk."

Doyeon didn't hesitate. He settled beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of her skin, and tried to slip his hand over hers. She let him— Just a few seconds. Long enough for him to believe the lie, to drop his guard completely.

"You know, sunbae…" she began, her voice a soft whisper, "I feel like you're the only person here who would understand me. I feel safe around you."

His heart swelled. "Of course," he replied, puffing with pride. "You should feel safe. Women always feel safe around me."

Then, his expression turned sour.

"But… you should be careful around that team leader of yours, Jihoon."

She blinked at him, feigning innocence. "Why? He seems kind."

"You don't know him like I do," Doyeon said darkly. "He's sly. Dangerous. Don't be fooled by his face. He stole a project from me just because the director—who happens to be a woman—fell for his pretty-boy act. That's the only reason he got the deal. Not because he earned it."

There was a pause.

Then, in a voice as cold as steel cloaked in silk, she murmured, "So that was the reason… You beat him. All because of your petty jealousy."

He blinked, confused. "What are you talking about, Hayeon?"

She smiled again—sweet, gentle, like sugar laced with arsenic. "Oh, sunbae… I think I dropped my earring on the way here. Would you be kind enough to look for it?"

Doyeon nodded immediately. "Of course. Anything for you."

He spotted it near the edge of the bench and bent to pick it up.

And then—crack.

A thud echoed through the empty rooftop as the back of his head collided with something hard. Darkness swallowed him.

When he came to, the world was spinning. He was on the cold floor, coughing in dust, arms restrained. In front of him, Hayeon sat on the clean bench, inspecting her nails like nothing had happened.

"Ma'am," one of her men said, "What should we do with him?"

She didn't even look up. "Can't we just kill him?" Her voice was light, as though asking about the weather. "What use is an insect like this? The world is already full of filth. I'd be doing nature a favor."

"Ma'am, we can't. That would land you in prison."

She sighed, as if his life were merely an inconvenience. "Then at least… leave him something to remember this night by."

The blow came swift and hard—not to his hands, but to his shoulder. He cried out, but it wasn't enough to draw attention from the street below. Another hit landed across his ribs, and then another. Not enough to cripple, but enough to bruise deeply—enough to make it hurt every time he moved, to remind him every single day.

When they stepped back, he was curled on the ground, wheezing.

She rose, stepped toward him in her white dress like a fallen angel.

"You thought a smile or two could buy you closeness… and that your empty charm gave you the right to defile what I hold dear. How laughably small you are."

He whimpered. "I didn't know…"

She tilted her head and whispered, "Don't worry. I won't kill you. I can't. But if I could, I would. Consider yourself lucky."

Then, with mock tenderness, she patted his face. "Now, hush. Be grateful I'm letting you crawl away."

As she walked away, her heels echoing against the rooftop concrete, she paused by the door. Without turning back, she said coolly, "You better watch that mouth of yours. If a single word of what happened today slips from your mouth, I'll make sure it's the last word you ever speak.

"I won't," he croaked. "I swear. I'll keep quiet. I won't tell anyone—not even a fly."

She didn't respond. She didn't need to.

By morning, Kang Doyeon had vanished. No resignation. No message. Nothing. A man who once strutted around the office with pride was now just a missing name on a list.

Even Hayeon raised a brow. We didn't break his hands… she thought. Then where did he go?

The mystery would unfold later.

For now, she had other things to take care of.

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