The gates of the majestic Ahn family mansion creaked open as Mian stepped inside for the first time. Her eyes widened at the vastness of the compound—a beautiful, serene garden lined with cherry blossom trees, marble statues standing proud by the fountain, and the mansion itself towering like something out of a dream.
She was nervous, but she didn't let it show. Mian had just been hired as one of the maids, and although her heart fluttered with uncertainty, she was more grateful than afraid. She needed this job, not for luxury or ambition, but to simply survive—her mother and she depended on it.
At just twenty-four, Mian had a youthful charm that often made people mistake her for a teenager. Her skin was flawless, her eyes bright with hope, and her voice soft but clear. Life hadn't been easy, but it hadn't hardened her completely either. She still believed in kindness.
"This house belongs to the Ahn family," the head maid explained, walking beside her as they moved through the grand hallways. "You'll be responsible for daily cleaning tasks—kitchen, living rooms, hallways. Once your shift is over, you are free to return home. No need for night duties unless specified."
Mian smiled, relieved. The idea of going home each evening brought her comfort.
She was led through various rooms, shown the supplies closet, instructed on schedules, and introduced to a few of the other workers. They were mostly older women, who gave her polite smiles but kept to themselves.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a door at the far end of the west wing.
"This room," the head maid said, her voice lowering slightly, "belongs to the young master, Jin Ahn. He rarely comes home, but when he does, you are only to enter and clean when he is present. Never open this door in his absence. Understand?"
Mian nodded, her smile tight. "Yes, ma'am."
She was handed a neatly folded uniform—black and white with a subtle silver trim—and told to go home, get some rest, and be ready to start at dawn.
"Thank you," she whispered with a small bow before leaving the mansion.
When Mian got home, her mother greeted her at the door with a warm smile that melted away the exhaustion.
"How was it?" her mom asked, ushering her in.
"I was just shown around. They gave me my uniform… I start tomorrow."
Her mother reached out and took the uniform from her. "Where is it? I'll iron it for you. You go and rest."
Mian smiled, touched. "Thank you, ma."
"Anything for my princess," her mother replied, brushing a strand of hair from Mian's face. "You've done well."
After a warm shower and a quiet dinner, Mian collapsed onto her bed. Tomorrow marked the beginning of a new chapter.
The days passed in a quiet rhythm. Mian arrived early each morning, completed her tasks meticulously, and left just as the sun began to set. She grew familiar with the other maids, kept her head down, and followed the rules carefully.
Yet, one room continued to pique her curiosity—the one at the far end of the west wing. Jin Ahn's room.
Five days had passed and not once had she seen him. It made the mystery only grow thicker in her mind. Who was he? Why such strict rules around a room that was always empty?
Still, she dared not cross the line.
That evening, she finished her chores, changed out of her uniform, and packed her bag to leave. The sky outside had begun to turn golden, a soft breeze moving through the hedges near the gates.
As she stepped out onto the front lawn, a series of sleek black cars suddenly pulled into the driveway. Mian stopped in her tracks, eyes narrowing as she watched.
The doors opened.
Guards in black suits stepped out first—expressionless and alert. Then, from the back of the third car, a man emerged. He moved with silent confidence, his tall figure casting a long shadow across the stone path. His tailored coat swept behind him, his face unreadable.
He looked like a man carved from ice.
Mian's eyes widened. Is that him? she thought. The mysterious owner of the forbidden room?
It was.
Jin Ahn.
A man known in elite circles as a powerful entrepreneur, ruthless and brilliant. Rumors said he never smiled, never wasted time. Cold. Calculating. Dangerous. But undeniably striking.
Jin's sharp gaze flicked toward her. "Who is she?" he asked one of his bodyguards.
"She's the new maid, sir."
"Tell her to clean my room."
The bodyguard nodded and walked toward Mian.
She hesitated. She'd already changed, ready to head home. But refusing wasn't an option—not in a place like this, not with a job like hers.
Without complaint, Mian changed back into her uniform, gathered her supplies, and made her way to the forbidden door.
It was the first time she entered Jin Ahn's space.
The room was immaculate, yet cold—deep gray walls, black furniture, expensive artwork, and an air of silence that felt heavy. She cleaned quietly, not daring to touch anything she wasn't supposed to. When she was done, she packed up and left.
But what she didn't know was that Jin had been standing just around the corner, watching.
"She's grown," he murmured to himself.
The bodyguard tilted his head. "Sir?"
"Her name is Mian, right?"
"Yes, sir."
Jin's mind wandered back to the past—back to a simpler time, before the power, before the isolation. A time when he had watched a little girl run through the neighborhood streets, laughing, carefree. She had teased him once, calling him a 'boring rich kid'. He had never forgotten that.
"She hasn't changed," he said, almost to himself. "Same pretty face."
The bodyguard remained silent, thoroughly confused.
That night, Mian returned home, visibly exhausted. Her mother greeted her as always, concern in her eyes.
"You're late. What happened?"
"The owner of that room showed up. He made me clean it before I left."
Her mother's brow furrowed, but she said nothing. Instead, she pulled her daughter into a gentle hug.
"Rest, Mian. You've done well."
Mian nodded, her eyes already closing. After a quick shower, she crawled into bed, her body heavy with fatigue, her mind still lingering on the tall figure who had silently watched her.
Somewhere in her dreams, cherry blossoms fell like rain, and a boy stood in the shadows of memory, waiting to be remembered.