Engines thundered beneath the evening sky, echoing off the steel walls of the underground arena. Smoke drifted across the track like a veil, lit up by blinding spotlights. At the start line, a sleek black car crouched low, humming with restrained power. The crowd pressed against the barriers, their cheers fading into a breathless hush as their eyes locked onto one figure behind the wheel — Cha Hayeon.
This wasn't her job. This wasn't some sponsorship gig. Racing was her escape — the thrill, the speed, the silence between gears. It was her secret playground.
She sat effortlessly cool in the driver's seat, fingers wrapped in leather gloves drumming calmly on the steering wheel. Her long hair was tied back in a low, loose ponytail, and her dark sunglasses hid eyes that scanned the track like a queen eyeing her kingdom.
The signal lights blinked once. Twice.
Green.
The world lurched.
Cars shot forward like lightning unleashed — engines screaming, tires shrieking against the asphalt. Blurs of red, blue, and silver darted through the smoke, but it was the black car that cut through clean — graceful, confident, alive.
Inside, Hayeon barely flinched. She leaned with the turns like she was dancing, lips curled in a smirk as the car obeyed her every command. Where others fought the road, she ruled it.
A voice crackled through her earpiece. "Two cars on your tail. You wanna—?"
She cut him off, voice smooth and cool. "This is getting boring. Let's end it."
Her foot sank onto the pedal. The engine roared with a deep growl, and the black car surged forward like a shadow unleashed. One sharp swerve. One clean drift. The finish line tore past.
Silence.
Then — an eruption of cheers.
As her car rolled to a stop, the crowd rushed closer, phones raised, screaming her name. She stepped out slowly, like a goddess returning to earth — not a single hair out of place. Her expression? Unbothered. She didn't need applause. She already knew she'd win.
Her phone buzzed.
Still in her racing gloves, she picked it up and glanced at the screen.
Dad.
She sighed and tapped speaker. "Yeah?"
A loud, overly cheerful voice burst through.
"My cutie little daughter! You're back in the country and didn't even tell me?"
Somewhere in the crowd, fans froze, stunned. Cutie? Did someone just call the Ice Queen of the Circuit... cutie?
Her face flared red. She yanked the phone off speaker. "Dad! Not now! Why are you always so loud?"
Her father chuckled, completely unbothered. "Come to the office. There's something I want to talk to you about."
"Not happening," she said instantly, brushing past her team toward her changing room. "I'm not interested in anything remotely 'office.' You know this."
"Hmm... alright. I guess I'll just give your mother a quick call—"
She froze mid-step. "You wouldn't."
He hummed. "Would I ?"
Her pulse spiked. Seo Mira was not a woman who raised her voice — she didn't need to. With just a glance, she could silence boardrooms, bend deals, and send even the most confident men into backpedals. Elegant, calculating, and unfailingly composed, her mother was the kind of woman who didn't ask twice. And when she was disappointed? That silence was more terrifying than any shout.
"Fine!" she hissed. "Twenty minutes. Don't move."
He laughed softly. "I'll be waiting, my dear daughter."
---
Twenty-five floors above the city, HMM Corporation stood like a monument — HMM Corporation is a prestigious multi-sector empire led by Cha minjae , Cha Hayeon's father. It operates in two major industries: advanced automotive and tech innovation—focusing on luxury cars, AI technology, and possibly defense contracts—and media and entertainment, including film production, celebrity management, and news control. Sleek, powerful, and highly influential, HMM stands as a symbol of modern luxury and dominance in both tech and media sectors.
Hayeon walked through the lobby in jeans and a plain white tee, head held high. Most employees didn't recognize her — which she liked. Let them whisper. Let them guess.
By the time she reached the CEO's floor, the whispers had already started.
"Isn't that...?"
"She's the CEO's daughter."
"She doesn't look like she works here."
She didn't.
She walked like she owned the place — because technically, she could.
Her father greeted her with his usual warm smile, arms open. "There she is! My champion racer, my—"
"Dad. Enough," she interrupted, brushing past him. "What do you want?"
His smile faded slightly. "I want you to work here. No special treatment. No CEO badge. Just start from the bottom, learn how things work. You need the experience."
She raised a brow. "We've been over this. This world of fake smiles and glass meetings? Not for me."
She turned to leave — but stopped. Something caught her eye.
No — someone.
By the window, at a desk half-shadowed by the light, sat a tall man in a white shirt and glasses. He looked... the same. Calm, quiet, focused on his screen like the world didn't matter. His hair was soft, his expression thoughtful. He had that same gentle air — like someone who belonged in a different time. Someone untouched by the chaos around him.
And when he smiled — just a faint, fleeting curve of his lips — her breath caught.
There you are, she thought, her heart clenching. You were here all along.
For the past month, she had been looking for this person — the one she'd been thinking about all day, every day, the reason she couldn't sleep at night.
She stared at him, stunned. "There you are... I searched everywhere for you, lost in thoughts I couldn't quiet — and you were right here the whole time."
She turned sharply and stormed back into the office, the door slamming behind her.
Her father jumped. "What now?"
She faced him, voice steady. "I'll do it."
He blinked. "Do what?"
"I'll work here. As a junior employee. Starting tomorrow."
Before he could reply, she turned and walked out — fast, focused, and completely rattled.
Behind her, the man by the window looked up.
Just for a second.Then he smiled again — softer this time — and went back to typing.