Threads of Fate

Episode 3 – Threads of Fate

The auditorium buzzed with murmurs, camera shutters, and the faint shuffle of papers.

Han Ji Ah sat in the second row, her posture straight, pen poised against her notebook. She wasn’t here for fame or networking—she was here for knowledge.

On stage stood Jung Hyun Woo.

The spotlight wrapped around him as if it belonged there. He spoke with measured clarity, every word sharp as a blade.

“In both business and law, shortcuts lead to destruction. We don’t build legacies on sand we build them on stone.”

Applause rippled through the hall. Ji Ah’s eyes narrowed, following his calm confidence. His tone wasn’t boastful.. it was absolute.

And then, without warning, his gaze lifted.

Straight to hers.

The hall, filled with hundreds, seemed to shrink. His words didn’t falter, but his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary. Ji Ah’s pen froze mid-stroke.

When the speech ended, she moved quickly, slipping her notebook into her bag. Time to go before anyone bothers me.

But fate was impatient.

As she exited into the lobby, a sharp voice stopped her.

“Leaving so soon?”

Ji Ah turned. Hyun Woo stood there, tie loosened now, his presence even heavier offstage.

“I don’t stay for cocktail chatter,” she replied simply.

His lips curved faintly. “Then you’re different from most.”

“I hear that often,” she said, adjusting her bag strap.

“Different isn’t bad,” he murmured.

A silence stretched brief but loaded. Ji Ah inclined her head politely, stepping past him. Hyun Woo watched her go, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

Meanwhile, thirty thousand feet above sea level

Han Ji Won crossed her legs in first class, sunglasses on, magazine open. Determined this time: ignore the pilot.

The intercom crackled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re entering a patch of light turbulence. Please fasten your seatbelts.”

Ji Won gripped her armrest, knuckles whitening. She would never admit it aloud, but turbulence terrified her.

Then came his voice again.

steady, calm, almost playful.

“Don’t worry. It’s only the sky stretching its arms. Nothing to fear.”

Ji Won blinked. Against her will, her heart eased. His tone carried something no fashion magazine ever did: assurance.

When the flight landed safely, she walked briskly out, pretending not to glance toward the cockpit. Yet, as she reached the exit, movement caught her eye.

Lee Tae Hyun was outside, not in uniform now, helping an elderly passenger with heavy luggage. His boyish grin flashed as he bowed respectfully.

Ji Won paused, hidden in the crowd, watching.

For the first time, she didn’t roll her eyes. She just… wondered.

In their shared apartment, Ji Ah was buried in case files, glasses perched low. Ji Won sprawled across the couch, groaning.

“My back is broken. Do you know how many poses I had to do today?!”

“Tragic,” Ji Ah murmured, eyes never leaving the paper.

“I’m serious! The photographer was a tyrant.” Ji Won flipped over dramatically. “Do you even care about your sister’s suffering?”

Ji Ah sighed, finally lowering her glasses. “You’re alive. I care enough.”

Silence fell for a moment. Both sisters stared at the ceiling, yet their thoughts weren’t on work anymore.

Ji Ah’s mind replayed the way Hyun Woo’s eyes held hers.

Ji Won’s ears echoed with Tae Hyun’s steady voice.

Neither said a word. But both hearts stirred quietly.