Chapter 18
Swish.
The guard standing at the fork in the road extended his arm, politely blocking the way.
“Excuse me, ma’am. This area is restricted to hotel guests only.”
His tone carried the kind of courteousness expected from security at a high-rise hotel built on the most expensive land in Seoul’s city center. But the meaning was simple—do not proceed further.
The uninvited guest, who clearly didn’t fit with the “inside,” nodded calmly.
“I know. I have business here.”
“I’m sorry, but from this point forward only registered guests are allowed entry.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, yet it carried a strange weight.
Behind the thick lenses of her strong prescription glasses, her eyes blinked with an almost defiant steadiness. The faint smile on her lips was unreadable, sly.
“……”
It was the kind of leisure most of those inside possessed—the air of a predator.
Years of experience as a guard told him not to judge people by appearances, and he didn’t.
“May I confirm your reservation name?”
Without unnecessary words, the guard holding a tablet asked politely.
She pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and answered.
“Go Woo-ri.”
Her bold, confident voice masked the pounding of her heart, which the guard couldn’t hear.
“One moment, please.”
He checked something on his tablet.
Meanwhile, sweat formed on the hand gripping her bag. Tap, tap. After a few touches on the screen, the guard held out the tablet to her.
“Thank you for waiting. Please enter your ID number.”
She quickly typed in the number she had memorized.
The confirmation screen appeared without issue, and the guard stepped aside with a bow.
“Thank you for visiting us. Please enjoy your time.”
The procedure was far simpler than she had feared.
She gave a slight bow and walked past the way he opened for her. Still, her heart continued pounding as she exhaled a long breath and rolled her eyes.
Jackpot.
Her lips quivered with barely contained excitement.
She had reached the private bar inside the Seoul hotel. It wasn’t known by any specific name; regulars simply called it the “inner room.” Entry was only allowed with a reservation.
Of course, “reservation” meant a membership—an expensive registration that required numerous steps each year. Drinks and food were all handled through the membership card.
And apparently, Go Woo-ri’s membership was still valid, even though she was dead.
Strange.
Who would have thought she’d end up calling someone else’s name as her own?
But the thought faded the moment she stepped inside and the soft sound of jazz filled her ears.
She walked past patrons immersed in the low-lit atmosphere and took a seat at the bar.
“Welcome, ma’am. It’s an honor to have you. May I take your order?”
The bartender, a familiar face who once even joked with her in the past, greeted politely. But to him now, she was a stranger.
Weird feeling.
It felt almost like the whole world was playing a hidden camera prank on her.
“One peach highball, please. Double shot.”
“Right away.”
Normally, this bartender would have chatted a bit. Now, he only bowed lightly and left.
She realized anew that every bond tied to “Go Woo-ri” had vanished. She had chosen to leave it all behind, so there was no regret—but still, it felt strange.
She crossed her legs, rested her chin on her hand.
At least now I can finally eat peaches.
Setting aside the strangeness, she simply waited for her peach highball.
Now that her allergy was gone, she dreamed of conquering peach desserts and drinks one by one. She adjusted her glasses with that thought.
But then her fingerprints smudged the lens.
“Ugh, seriously.”
Of everything about this new body she was getting used to, the glasses were the hardest. The blurred handprints instantly obstructed her view, forcing her to take them off.
“I should just get LASIK. What a pain.”
How did people live with glasses all their lives? She didn’t even have a proper cloth, so she wiped them clumsily with the edge of her shirt.
Thud.
“Oh!”
Just then, someone brushed past her elbow, knocking the glasses from her hand.
“I’m so sorry!”
The man quickly picked them up and handed them back.
She couldn’t tell if their eyes had met. The lighting was dim, and without glasses she couldn’t make out his face.
“It’s fine.”
First thing tomorrow, I’m checking clinics for LASIK.
She brushed off the apology and firmed her resolve.
But when she finally lifted her head with her glasses back on, a tall shadow still loomed over her.
A stranger’s face came into focus.
“Do you need something?”
Seeing he had lingered, she asked bluntly. The man casually sat down beside her.
“You must be new here.”
“No. I’ve been here often.”
“Strange, I don’t recognize you.”
“Sure. I don’t recognize you either.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her sharp replies shut his mouth.
Unbothered, she tucked her messy hair behind her ear as the bartender returned with her drink.
“Your peach highball.”
The golden clarity of the drink, one of the cheapest on the menu, still sparkled beautifully. Her eyes lit up with it.
She lifted the glass gracefully. The man seized the moment.
“Look, I feel bad about earlier, so—”
“If you really feel bad, just leave me alone.”
Her walls stayed firm. The man muttered bitterly under his breath.
“…… Acting all high and mighty.”
She flinched. Luckily, that was the end of it, and he left. Still, her fingertips trembled from the tension.
[Die, die!]
……Bastard. I should tear him apart.
No doubt this lingering fear came from the accident on the plane—something she’d never forget.
She shook her head to chase away the dirty feeling. At least here, unlike the airplane, the space was wide, and guards were everywhere.
She turned her focus back to the glass in front of her.
Just one drink. No more, no less. One.
For a heavy drinker like Go Woo-ri, one was nothing, but today she intended to keep it light.
Sip.
“……Nice.”
The sweet unfamiliar taste touched her lips, and she exhaled deeply.
So this is what it tastes like.
Peach sweetness, layered with alcohol’s warmth. More than intoxication, it was the way it raised her body temperature that reminded her she was alive.
That was why she loved drinking.
Sip, sip.
She savored the gentle music, the smooth swallow, tilting her glass little by little.
“This is life.”
Whatever body she was in, tasting was always bliss.
Entranced, she drank slowly, steadily—until she suddenly noticed her vision swaying.
“……Huh?”
By the time she realized, the glass was nearly empty.
At first, she thought her glasses were smudged again. She left them on, but the haze worsened. She cleaned them—no change.
Weird.
Her eyesight was always poor, but the problem was her body.
Her hands shook strangely, hard to control. Was she sick? Had the peach allergy returned?
Panic rising, she clutched the bar table.
“Wait, wait. What’s happening to me?”
Barely holding herself up, she shook her head, confusion and fear spiraling.
Then it hit her.
……Am I drunk?
Her body slipped further out of control. Her eyes shook violently.
Me? Go Woo-ri, who could down alcohol like water without batting an eye?
“No. That’s not right.”
She wasn’t Go Woo-ri anymore. She was Joo Ae-jung. Meaning this body might not handle even one drink.
No, this wasn’t right. Something was very wrong.
She tried to stand, maybe head to the restroom. Bad idea.
Stumble.
“Ugh……!”
If she couldn’t even stay upright sitting down, standing was worse.
A wave of dizziness hit, her legs gave way. She grabbed at the table, but her body crumpled forward—straight into the arms of a predator who had been waiting for just this moment.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
The man from earlier, who she thought had left, was suddenly beside her.
His hands gripped her shoulders. His eyes gleamed, feigning concern but betraying intent.
Startled, she tried to twist away, clinging to consciousness.
“I said I’m fine. I can handle—”
But twisting free drained her last strength.
She collapsed. In that split second, she braced for the shame of hitting the floor—
Thud.
Instead, a firm arm slipped smoothly under her, catching her perfectly.
Like magic, her weakened body was supported effortlessly, pulled into a steady embrace.
A low whisper brushed her ear.
“I don’t recall giving permission for the wind to take you.”
