Chapter Four: The Calm Before the Storm

The morning sun slipped gently through the sheer curtains of Minji’s dorm room, casting golden lines over the soft beige walls. She stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the collar of her navy-blue formal blouse. The silk hugged her figure in all the right ways, matched perfectly with her high-waisted black skirt and simple nude heels. Her long black hair flowed down her back in soft waves, cascading like a raven waterfall.

Minji Park wasn’t dressed to impress—this was just her standard. Polished. Graceful. Unbothered. Her doe eyes were lined delicately, her lips painted with a muted coral tint. The mirror didn’t reflect a girl trying to look good for others—it reflected a queen comfortable in her throne.

Behind her, Mia practically squealed, throwing herself dramatically onto Minji’s bed. “You’re seriously going to make all the professors question their life choices,” she teased, watching her best friend apply a final touch of highlighter.

Minji smirked without breaking her focus. “It’s not my fault elegance is a curse.”

“God, you’re impossible,” Mia laughed. “How are you even good at everything? Like seriously—science, art, dance, gaming, and now anchoring a seminar for a CEO?”

Minji turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Don't forget fighting. I beat that black-belt guy in sparring club last week.”

Mia waved a hand. “Oh please, he practically cried. I'm still convinced you’re some secret agent in disguise.”

They both laughed, the sound of it filling the room with warmth and ease.

But Minji hadn’t always been this way. Confidence wasn’t handed to her; she’d built it, layer by layer, through sweat and sleepless nights, pushing past the judgments, the expectations, and the quiet voice that sometimes whispered she wasn’t enough. Now? That voice didn’t stand a chance.

A knock at the door interrupted their fun.

Professor Han stood at the entrance of the hallway, his face calm but his posture firm. “Minji, you’re ready?”

She nodded. “Completely.”

He gave a tight smile. “Good. We’re expecting a large turnout. The seminar will begin in an hour, and the guest is... well, let’s just say he’s not someone to keep waiting.”

Mia leaned into the doorframe. “The mysterious donor everyone whispers about?”

Professor Han didn’t deny it. “The same. CEO Jinwoo Choi. A very private man, but his generosity to the university has been… overwhelming.”

Minji tilted her head. “And what exactly do you need me to do?”

The professor handed her a printed sheet. “This is the script. You’ll be welcoming him on stage, giving a brief introduction, and thanking him on behalf of the university for his continuous support. Keep it formal, respectful, and powerful. You know how to own a room.”

Minji scanned the lines quickly. It wasn’t difficult. She could do this in her sleep.

“Got it,” she said confidently.

Professor Han nodded and left with a relieved expression, knowing she was the best person for the job.

Once he was gone, Mia turned with a devilish grin. “You’re about to meet a millionaire. Better not fall in love.”

Minji rolled her eyes. “You watch too many dramas.”

“Seriously though,” Mia said, walking beside her as they headed toward the auditorium, “what if he’s young? And hot? And mysterious with a tragic past?”

Minji laughed, tucking the script into her folder. “Then I’ll thank him properly, wish him a nice day, and go back to studying the digestive system.”

Mia pretended to gag. “You’re impossible.”

As they walked through the sunlit corridors of the university, students turned to look. Minji wasn’t just admired—she was respected. Teachers greeted her, juniors looked up to her, and even the campus staff smiled with a sense of quiet affection. She carried herself like she knew she belonged, and everyone around her recognized it.

But even she didn’t know what was waiting on the other side of that auditorium door.

That evening, after the rehearsal and last-minute planning, Mia dragged her out for their favorite post-pressure tradition—karaoke. Dressed back in casuals, both girls belted out classic ballads, danced like no one was watching, and laughed until their stomachs hurt.

“Tomorrow,” Mia said, catching her breath between songs, “you’re gonna steal the show. He won’t even know what hit him.”

Minji raised her water bottle in a mock toast. “To doing our duty, dazzling crowds, and then forgetting all about it.”

They clinked bottles, completely unaware that the man arriving tomorrow wouldn’t just be dazzled.

He’d be obsessed.

And Minji’s world—the one she had built so perfectly—was about to start cracking open.

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