* * *

Just then, the traffic light changed.

I took a deep breath, straightened my back, and in that moment, Doha began running toward me.

At the same time, the footsteps I’d heard behind me quickened.

A shiver ran up my spine as goosebumps erupted across my body.

“For fuck’s sake, get over here, now!”

Almost spellbound, I forced myself to move, pushing my feet against the ground.

Maybe it was because I’d been running so long, but my legs felt unsteady.

I barely managed a step before someone grabbed the back of my neck.

“Yul-ah!”

“Urgh…!”

I had to get away.

The thought jolted through me, and I jerked my head around, struggling.

But the grip on my neck only tightened, pulling me backward.

My body crashed to the ground, and in the corner of my eye, something glinted in the light.

A hand raised high came into view—an unfamiliar hand that suddenly slammed down toward my face, crushing it.

Whack!

No scream came out. It got caught in my throat.

My head throbbed with a jarring pain, as if my brain were being shaken and broken into pieces.

My vision went dark, then flickered back.

The sounds around me faded, like they were submerged underwater.

“…Ah.”

I managed to let out a single sound, but that was it.

Yellow and red neon lights flashed before my eyes.

Who was it?

I tried to lift my hand to defend myself, but my arm remained glued to the ground.

Our eyes met for a fleeting moment—dark eyes glistening with madness.

Before I could recognize who it was, a sharp, hot pain shot through my chest, forcing my mouth open.

“…!”

“You bastard! You damn bastard, it’s your fault. It’s all because of you. Everything would be fine if it weren’t for you. If only you, you…damn it, you!”

I was in so much pain, yet no sound came out.

My mouth opened and closed, but no voice escaped, as if I’d lost it entirely.

The pain in my chest felt like a searing rod.

My head spun.

The shapes of everything around me blurred, merging and breaking apart repeatedly.

It wasn’t as if someone was turning the neon lights on and off, but my vision kept flickering.

Everything around me moved sluggishly, except for the voice piercing my ears with resentment.

“It’s your fault. You… it’s all because of you. Because of you!”

The iron rod stabbing into me was yanked out.

Heat bloomed and seeped through my abdomen, warm and spreading.

Breathing became difficult.

I needed to inhale, but the air slipped away, gurgling from my throat.

With a trembling hand, I touched the painful spot and looked down.

My palm was stained deep red.

Blood.

Dizziness overwhelmed me as my surroundings spun.

The concrete, the blood, and a faint smell of the sea seemed to blend together, making me feel faint.

The world was spinning around me, but no sound of my pain emerged.

I blinked slowly, parting my lips, catching a glimpse of Doha’s face, his eyes trembling as he looked down at me.

He lifted his head, looking somewhere else before he quickly left my side.

I wanted to reach out, but all I touched was the cold concrete.

Cough…

It felt like someone was wringing out my insides.

I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed.

My mind flickered in and out.

It felt like a long time had passed, but everything around me stayed the same—the black night sky, the neon lights casting multicolored reflections over my body.

My vision wavered, and a sharp ringing filled my ears, clinging persistently.

With a labored breath, I managed to move my tongue.

“Do…ha…”

A tear rolled down, wetting the concrete beneath me.

The metallic taste of blood filled my nose, clinging thickly.

Ah, I should have apologized.

I should have listened to what he had to say.

I shouldn’t have yelled.

I shouldn’t have run away…

As I inched closer to him in my thoughts, memories of the pitiful past flooded back, reminding me of everything I feared would disappear.

“Ha…”

The tangled mess of thoughts ended where they began—with him.

My breathing grew faint, as darkness settled over me, my fading breaths and the distant sounds of people calling my name blending into the noise around me.

---

The faint smell of antiseptic tickled my nose, and as I opened my eyes, an ivory ceiling greeted me.

Soft lights glowed indirectly, illuminating the square ceiling without hurting my eyes.

I took a breath, my throat dry and scratchy, and lifted a hand.

My fingers brushed against something—a nasal oxygen mask.

I removed it, drawing a cooler breath, and managed to sit up, exhaling shakily.

From somewhere nearby, hurried footsteps echoed, and the door burst open, a group of people in white coats appearing.

“Help the patient lie back down.”

One of the nurses gently helped me lie back down and reattached the oxygen mask.

I gestured that I was fine, but a doctor stepped closer.

“Patient, without the mask, your oxygen intake isn’t adequate. Please wear it. Now, can you tell me where you are? Can you state your name?”

“…”

“Patient, please tell us your name.”

As I remained silent, the doctor’s face turned pale.

This really is a hospital, after all.

Amid the bustle around me, I barely managed to part my lips.

It was closer to a gust of air than actual words, but the doctors repeatedly expressed relief that my cognitive abilities were intact.

Once the commotion settled and the doctors finished a few checks, they assessed that my condition was better than expected.

They even added that my recovery was progressing quickly given my injuries.

Can you call it a quick recovery when I was in a coma for two weeks?

I thought so momentarily, but ultimately, I survived.

The diagnosis was a punctured lung from a chest stab wound.

So that’s why breathing had been difficult, I nodded quietly.

Only thoughts possible for someone who had survived.

The doctor who gave me the brief update on my condition politely excused himself and left the room.

One of the nurses, who came in periodically to check on me, mentioned that there were guards stationed outside 24/7.

I asked if anyone had come to visit, but she only gave a vague smile and didn’t answer.

Could this also be Doha’s doing?

But there was no one to confirm that.

Two days later, Mr. Lee from the secretary’s office visited and shared quite a bit of information.

The person who stabbed me was the ex-boyfriend of Yoon Sanghye, one of our employees, and the one who incited him was none other than Kim Jungha.

They had both been apprehended and sent to the prosecutors.

However, Kim Jungha left no direct trace of the transaction, so he managed to slip through, while the ex-boyfriend took the fall alone.

During the investigation, the ex-boyfriend reportedly shouted my name like a madman, blaming everything on me.

It turned out he didn’t have the genetics of a high rank.

He was a Beta pretending to be an Alpha by using pheromone perfume.

To mask his lingering scent, the bride’s family recommended he take a suppressant, and she ended up giving him some, disguised as vitamins, which led to severe side effects.

When a Beta takes suppressants long-term, it causes pituitary problems, altering hormone levels.

Eventually, it destroys the hippocampus responsible for memory.

This sequentially affects the frontal lobe, leading to uncontrollable anger and violent outbursts, similar to a mental breakdown—a horrifying side effect.

Knowing this, Hajeong Pharmaceuticals, the company that manufactured and distributed the suppressants, was now under investigation.

Once again, I was struck by Doha’s foresight.

Since when had he known Hajeong Pharmaceuticals was shady?

“Sanghye was right. It was just… karma.”

“Yeah, and it’s been a nightmare. Honestly, Betas have no need for suppressants, yet due to this incident, all suppressants circulating in the market were recalled… and it only added to the distrust in medication. Merion Pharmaceuticals quickly released a neutralizing agent, but there’s this sense that everyone knew yet went along with it.”

Nodding along, I asked about my last work assignment.

“What happened with the ad deal? And the shares?”

“Oh, that ad? Oh man, you have no idea—the whole secretarial office was in chaos because of it! I’m losing my mind over here.”

Seeing my curious expression, Mr. Lee began a long explanation of recent events, which boiled down to this:

“People are curious about the strangest things.”

Calls flooded Reed Construction’s office asking who I was, and the ad caused a massive stir.

He said it kept trending across all sorts of online platforms, SNS, video sites, and more.

Though sales didn’t necessarily spike, brand awareness had certainly increased.

The double-contract model had been let go by their agency and was effectively blacklisted from the industry.

Vice President Han Jiwan, the executive who created this mess, didn’t bother defending the model, who became a disposable pawn.

Vice President Han Jiwan himself was reassigned to a U.S. branch.

A week ago, he boarded a plane hand-in-hand with his wife, Jin Gaye.

No one knew the exact deal he had struck with the Chairman, but they seemed quite pleased to depart together.

Had sales picked up, it might have been worth keeping him, but I was left puzzled by how cleanly they had washed their hands of him.

Mr. Lee, however, had no more information to offer.

Doha had publicly declared a 45.2% shareholding, establishing himself as the majority shareholder.

It turned out he didn’t need to acquire any minor affiliates.

His confidence came from having transferred all of his mother’s shares just before family consolidation laws were repealed.

To add to the revelation, shares previously thought to be the Chairman’s were, in fact, in his mother’s name.

* * *