No More Tears left~

10 Years Later
(Manager’s POV)

The soft click of heels against the marble floor echoed in the grand office. I hesitated at the door, clutching the folder to my chest.

"Are you sure, ma'am?" I asked carefully, my voice almost a whisper. "Are you really ready to go back... to Korea?"

The woman, sitting at the wide glass window, didn’t turn to face me. Her back was straight, poised—elegant even in silence. The city lights reflected around her like a halo, but she remained still, untouched by it all.

Only a slow, deliberate nod came as her answer.

I bowed respectfully, swallowing the emotions tightening my throat.
"Understood," I said softly, stepping back.
I left the office, quietly closing the door behind me.

Inside, she remained seated, fingers tracing lazy circles on the armrest of her chair.

The flight was booked. The return was inevitable.
After a whole decade away, the girl who once disappeared like a ghost... was finally coming home.

But she wasn’t the broken YN who had left.

No.

This YN was stronger, colder, and more untouchable than ever before.

And far away from here, in the same country she would soon return to, there was still a man who woke up every day reaching for a memory...
A man whose guilt had built him a prison he could never escape.
A man named Jungkook, who still carried her name like a scar across his soul.

And destiny... destiny was about to make them collide again.

10 Years Later
Location: YN’s Private Office — London.

The doors to the top floor opened with a soft ding. Employees instinctively stood straighter, whispers silencing mid-air. Heels tapped with precision, never a second off beat.

She walked in.

YN.

The woman who built a fashion empire in less than a decade. The woman who wrote novels under a pseudonym that hit bestseller lists—books drenched in pain and longing that readers assumed were fiction. They weren’t.

To the outside world, she was power in motion. Icy, brilliant, terrifying. Her presence was a storm in still water—calm on the surface, but too silent to be safe.

No smiles. No small talk. No laughter.

Employees never dared speak unless it was strictly work-related.
Some whispered she had no emotions. Others said she had everything but joy.

Only Lara—her manager—knew the truth.

She had watched YN rise from the ashes.
Had seen the nights when she woke screaming.
Had seen her write lines that bled.
Had helped her hide the scars beneath long sleeves and expensive silk.

Lara had once asked, “Why give so much to the world, if you let the world believe you don’t care?”
YN had simply said,
"Because I didn’t survive just to be seen—I survived to give others what I never had."

She quietly funded shelters for orphan girls, sponsored trauma therapy centers, donated anonymously to survivors of abuse.
No press. No headlines.
Just quiet rebellion against the life she was once forced to live.

And now, she sat behind a glass desk with Seoul beneath her feet, the skyline stretching as far as the horizon.

Independent. Unshaken. Unreachable.
Just like her mother once dreamed.