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Chapter: 4
“Ugh, not again. This elevator’s always like this.”
Mijeong grumbled as even the elevator’s number panel went dark.
“Let’s try calling the management office,” Eunjae suggested calmly and pressed the emergency call button.
But all that came through was a dial tone—no one answered.
“Wait. If you hit it a few times, it opens.”
Mijeong pounded the open button repeatedly with her fist.
“Wait, is it okay to hit it like that?”
“Yeah. It opens if you hit it right.”
With practiced ease, Mijeong jabbed at the button. After a few more strikes, to Eunjae’s amazement, the door actually opened.
“-What seems to be the problem?”
A delayed voice came through the speaker.
“Oh, it’s fine! It’s fixed now.”
Mijeong called out casually and dragged Eunjae along.
“Busy as I am, this is the last thing I need.”
“Shouldn’t we report the malfunction?”
“I did. Reported it a few times, but they never actually fix it.”
Mijeong passed on her pro tip: avoid this elevator whenever possible.
“Did you see that? I’m good with machines.”
“Now I get why it keeps breaking.”
“Machines only work when you give them a good smack.”
Eunjae chuckled lightly at her friend’s banter as they rounded the corner.
“Hey. Over there. That’s your brother.”
“······!”
Woo-Kyung stood in front of the evidence storage room—tall, with a head above everyone else, and a striking face visible even from afar.
Dressed in a black suit with a vest like armor, he radiated an aura impossible to ignore.
“Go on ahead. I need the restroom.”
Eunjae instinctively turned away; she didn’t want to run into him even outside the office.
“Huh? You should go with me, at least to say hello. Shame.”
Ignoring the disappointed colleague, Eunjae walked in the opposite direction of her destination.
Fortunately, Woo-Kyung wasn’t there when she emerged from the restroom.
Eunjae exhaled and entered the evidence storage room. She hadn’t realized how uncomfortable it was to run into an ex at work. Even without doing anything wrong, the whole day felt like walking on thin ice.
“How do people stay friends with their exes?”
Even just crossing paths like this felt like her heart was being sliced with a knife.
Shaking off the thought, she focused on finding the evidence. Time to return to her desk.
“I don’t want to go.”
She couldn’t believe it had been less than a week since Prosecutor Baek Woo-Kyung’s assignment.
“When will the transfer request even be processed?”
It had been less than half a day since she submitted it, and she was restless.
As she walked down the hallway, she instinctively reached for her phone—but remembered she’d left it on her desk. She had only stepped out briefly.
“I’m a mess.”
Either way, she had to return to her desk within Woo-Kyung’s line of sight.
Sighing, she pressed the elevator button.
She instinctively stepped toward the open door—but then:
“······!”
The familiar citrus scent hit her nose, filling the narrow space. Shiny black shoes and black suit pants came into view, one after another.
Woo-Kyung, who had disappeared earlier, was there.
“······.”
His sharp eyes, glancing up from the papers he leaned against the wall, met hers. Eunjae froze, unable to step inside.
What is it?
His mouth tilted slightly, silently mocking her.
‘Why am I the only one who has to avoid him?’
A stubborn determination surged within her. As soon as Eunjae stepped into the elevator, the doors slammed shut.
One second. Another second.
Time crawled as Eunjae stared at the changing numbers on the panel. The humming of the elevator filled the awkward silence, and she relied on it, hoping the ride would end quickly.
Clank. Clunk.
An ominous sound, very different from the usual hum, echoed.
No way…
She recalled what had happened with Park Mijeong earlier. And she had ended up in this elevator again.
“······!”
Her ominous intuition proved correct: thud, boom, a loud racket. The elevator had stopped.
Eunjae and Woo-Kyung’s eyes met in the confined space.
Brushing his hair back in annoyance, Woo-Kyung pressed the emergency call button. As expected, no one answered from the management office.
“I-I’ll try.”
Eunjae gently pushed Woo-Kyung aside and pounded the open button with her fist.
“What are you doing?”
“See? It works if you do this.”
Bang, bang, bang. With every strike, Woo-Kyung’s brow furrowed.
“You’re trying to fix the elevator by hitting it?”
“After a few hits, it starts moving again.”
“Hah. Ridiculous.”
Eunjae kept hitting the buttons as Woo-Kyung looked on in exasperation. But the elevator remained silent.
“Strange… it worked before.”
“Stop this reckless thing. Step aside.”
Eunjae stepped back a little, intimidated, watching him press the emergency button while her hands burned red from hitting the panel.
Truuuu… The endless dial tone suddenly cut off. The lights went out with a snap.
“······!”
Complete darkness descended.
Phone. I need to turn on the flashlight.
She rifled through her pockets, remembering she had left her phone on her desk.
“I-I left my phone… what do I do?”
No response.
“Prosecutor, do you have your phone?”
Eunjae spun toward the direction she thought he was in.
Suddenly, a fragment of memory struck her: his claustrophobia.
Woo-Kyung couldn’t endure dark, confined spaces. It stemmed from a traumatic childhood kidnapping by money-hungry intruders.
‘Woo-Kyung! Hey, wake up! Baek Woo-Kyung!’
‘Doctor! Quickly, call Professor Kang!’
When he was in elementary school, and Eunjae a little girl, a serious incident occurred at the Do-Young mansion.
The elevator in the main building broke down suddenly, trapping Woo-Kyung inside. Since it happened late at night, no one noticed until morning. When they finally pulled him out, he was unconscious and barely breathing.
‘If even a minute later… he would have died. It’s a miracle.’
Eunjae had secretly gone to the mansion, curious if he was okay, and overheard the doctor’s briefing.
‘Claustrophobia must be overcome personally, but Woo-Kyung is too young, so prevention is the best course.’
Because the heir had nearly died, the whole household was thrown into chaos. The enraged Chairman Baek immediately removed all elevators. All employees, including Eunjae’s mother, received thorough safety and first-aid training. CCTV was installed everywhere—her mother complained about the lack of privacy.
And now… this situation was exactly the same. Trapped in a narrow, enclosed, pitch-dark elevator.
“Prosecutor?”
No answer. Eunjae reached out blindly.
“Prosecutor! Oppa. Oppa? Woo-Kyung oppa!”
Finally, she felt his body—firm, solid, stiff. Eunjae groped him frantically.
“Oppa, are you okay?”
What should I do? Panic overtook her empty mind. She recalled the tightly buttoned suit he was wearing earlier.
“L-Let’s start by taking off your clothes.”
She remembered her basic first-aid training: for patients struggling to breathe, free the airway immediately.
Her trembling hands unbuttoned his suit and removed the jacket.
“Sorry, I need to take this off.”
As she freed his muscular arms from the jacket, a button popped with a snap. Still, Eunjae persisted, removing both the jacket and vest.
Ah, right. The tie.
Her small hands found the end of it and tugged firmly. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, determined to secure his breathing.
“Jung Eunjae.”
Finally, his low, husky voice came through the opening. He was conscious—thankfully.
“Stop.”
“Almost done! Just one more, oppa.”
She kept checking how far she had unbuttoned, pressing firmly against his solid chest. It was enough; his chest was exposed.
“Hey.”
“What about your phone? Do you have it?”
Eunjae slid her hand to where she guessed the jacket pocket was—nothing.
“I’ll turn on the flashlight at least. Light helps.”
Moving past the jacket to the pants pocket, her hand finally hit a solid object.
“This is the phone, right?”
A hard object filled her palm, the exact width of a smartphone. Yet somehow… it felt awkwardly familiar. A phone should be flatter. This felt thick, more like a column than a flat device.
“Nope. Not a phone.”
A lazy low voice sounded, almost mocking. Was she imagining it?
