"No," Shin replied flatly. "But I saw several recent charges on the credit card she's using. Boutique cafés, a bookstore, clothing stores and some novelty keychains. She's still spending. So obviously, she hasn't broken up with me."
Secretary Yun opened and closed his mouth like a dying fish. What kind of logic is that?
"But… sir… couldn't it be that she just forgot to return the card?"
Shin gave him a look that suggested blasphemy.
"She didn't forget. She refused to see me, yes—but if she really intended to cut me off, she would've couriered the card back. Or cut and throw it out."
Secretary Yun sighed internally. That was true. Miss Zhi didn't seem like the type to hold onto something she didn't mean to use—especially not if she were truly done with someone.
Still. This did not explain the exorcist.
"Boss," he ventured carefully, "are you sure it's not just stress? The fatigue, the insomnia—it might be psychological."
Shin narrowed his eyes. "I haven't gone insane. If I had, you wouldn't be standing here in one piece. Alive."
Secretary Yun decided, with the quiet despair of a man facing the abyss, that this was officially above his pay grade.
"I'll… find a real priest. Or, like you said, anyone qualified to do what you're asking," he muttered, already regretting every career decision that led him to this moment.
"Make sure they're licensed in demon removal," Shin added, already scrolling through Yeri's recent purchases on his phone with a soft smile, like a villain checking his crush's shopping list.
As Secretary Yun retreated, he made a mental note to increase his life insurance policy and maybe schedule a backup vacation day in case his boss decided to do something beyond his job description.
Something was definitely wrong.
---
After a tense discussion about curses and exorcist, the two men silently, wordlessly returned to their natural habitat—work.
Within minutes, Shin Keir was once again reviewing acquisition proposals like a machine with tailored cheekbones, while Secretary Yun busied himself deciphering legal jargon and quietly mourning his lost lunch break.
For the next few hours, the office operated with mechanical precision—phone calls made, documents signed, minor executives gently shredded to emotional pieces by Shin's ruthless efficiency.
By late afternoon, the soft golden sunlight outside had dimmed to a dusky hue. Secretary Yun had retreated to his desk for some blessed caffeine and damage control, leaving Shin alone in his office.
Alone, but not at peace.
He leaned back in his chair, absently drumming his fingers against the armrest as his thoughts drifted—first to the budget report, then to the Keir old hag who had been relentlessly bothering him lately, and finally, inevitably, to her.
Yeri Zhi.
She haunted his mind more effectively than any ghost or curse ever could. Her laugh. Her stubborn pout. The way she always managed to say the most infuriating things and still leave him wanting more.
And then, unbidden, the memory returned—not of her, but of the dream.
No. The dream.
In the dream, he was back in that forest—the red forest.
The trees were gnarled and skeletal, their bark an eerie shade of crimson, as if they'd soaked up centuries of blood. Crimson leaves rustled underfoot as he walked, dry and brittle, crunching with every uncertain step. But this time, something was different.
There was fog.
A thick, black mist curled around the trees like smoke from a cursed fire, swirling in unnatural patterns. It hovered low at first, clinging to the roots and pooling in hollows, but the longer he walked, the more it rose, wrapping around his legs like it had a mind of its own.
He wandered for what felt like hours, calling out to no one in particular, hoping—knowing—she would be there.
The being with silver curls, red dress and looked exactly like Yeri.
His heart clenched at the memory of her face, more vivid in the dream than any photograph could ever capture.
She was always just out of reach, like sunlight through a cracked mirror.
This time, he heard something.
Laughter.
Light and melodic, like bells caught on the wind.
He followed it.
Through the fog and the trees, until the red forest gave way to a clearing—and at the center of it, something strange. A fountain.
Massive and ancient, the stone structure stood proudly amidst the decay, its edges softened by moss and time. And from it flowed crystal clear spring water, the only thing in the dream that wasn't red. It glowed faintly, as if touched by moonlight.
And there she was.
Perched on a wide stone at the fountain's edge, her red dress draped like molten silk around her ankles, she kicked her feet playfully in the water like a girl without a care in the world.
Her hair cascaded in long silver curls, catching the light as she tilted her head back to laugh—clearly amused by something invisible to him.
She looked like a goddess from a forgotten tale, carved into his memory with maddening obsession.
Then she turned.
And smiled.
It was a simple thing, that smile—but it lit up the entire dreamscape. Everything cruel and cold in that forest fell away in the presence of her warmth.
For the first time in what felt like centuries, Shin felt warmth, hope and shockingly, home.
He stepped closer. The water rippled beneath her toes. Her eyes, the same as Yeri's—only ancient, knowing—met his with gentle recognition.
He opened his mouth to speak. To ask who she really was. To ask if she was Yeri or merely a memory wearing her face.
But something shifted.
From the corner of his eye, the black fog thickened—and the atmosphere grew heavy, charged, like the air before a lightning strike.
He felt it before he saw it. An ominous presence by the water, just beyond the fountain's edge, cloaked entirely in smoke and shadow. The fog above the surface churned wildly, masking the creature's form. Shin squinted, trying to pierce the veil, but his vision wavered.
He couldn't make it out—except for one thing.
Three glowing orbs.
Fireballs, each the color of molten gold, crimson and black circled the unseen figure like protective spirits. They pulsed with a strange rhythm, as if alive and watching him.
The creature spoke.
A guttural sound, layered with distortion, like several voices overlapping. The words were foreign, ancient. And yet—
He understood.
"Get out of here."
The command hit him like a shockwave. He stumbled backward, but before he could regain his footing or even respond, the world twisted sharply.
Then everything shattered.
---
Shin jolted, like he just came back from that place.
Back in his office, the light outside was fading, casting long shadows across the room. His hand gripped the armrest, breath shallow, skin cold with sweat. He blinked rapidly, disoriented by the jarring transition from dreamscape to skyscraper.
He sat there, unmoving, the remnants of the dream coiling around him like smoke.
What the hell was that?
He had no idea what the fireball-creature was. No idea why it somehow dislike him—or why it seemed to be warning him. And the most maddening part?
He could remember everything—the forest, the fountain, the silver-haired woman's smile—except the creature itself. Its face, its shape, even its voice—blurred and missing.
He was sure of only one thing.
That wasn't a normal dream.
And whoever—or whatever—that being was, she wasn't just a figment of his imagination. She felt real. Her presence, her smile, the way she looked at him…
And the fact that she looked exactly like Yeri.
Shin Keir sat in the darkening office, the city skyline twinkling behind him like a net of fallen stars. But his mind was far away—still trapped in a red forest, still seeking answers, still feeling the pull of something ancient.
Something cursed.
Or maybe…
Fated.
Later that evening, Shin Keir once again went to the University. Inside the car, the air was cold and tense—mostly due to Shin Keir's perpetual death-glare expression like someone owed him money.
Unlike the previous trips to SC University, Shin wasn't there to camp outside Yeri Zhi's dorm with the unspoken hope of catching a glimpse of her. There were no rehearsed apologies rolling in his head today. No bouquet of roses, no hopeful glance at the student gates.
This time… he was waiting for another Zhi.
"Boss, should I inquire for his whereabouts?" Secretary Yun asked cautiously as they idled near the campus entrance.
Shin didn't answer right away. He was too busy staring straight ahead.
"No need, I already did." Shin finally muttered.
Secretary Yun frowned. "It's crowded, the school must have held some annual event. I think I should look for him."
Shin adjusted his cufflinks and replied without blinking, "He should be out soon."
Secretary Yun blinked in confusion, then realization dawned—his boss must have had someone watching him.
Minutes later, the university's evening crowd began trickling out—students with backpacks, friends chatting about group projects, a suspicious number of couples who clearly weren't just "study buddies."
And then, finally, Shin spotted him.
Jj Zhi.
Dressed in a casual windbreaker and jeans, the younger Zhi was clearly planning a quiet evening—probably heading for the ramen place two blocks down, the one with the good broth. He was scrolling through his phone, earbuds in, utterly unaware of someone about to ambush him.
The window of the sleek black car rolled down with the ominous elegance of a mafia movie.
"Jj Zhi," Shin called out.
Jj blinked, paused his music, and looked up.
And nearly dropped his phone.
Because there, in the backseat was none other than Shin Keir—CEO of Keir Global Group, the man who could bankrupt families with a yawn.
Jj pointed to himself. "Me?"
"Yes. Get in," Shin said, in that smooth, non-negotiable tone that implied bodyguards would make it happen if he didn't.
Jj looked around, half-expecting if Yeri was around or inside the car but when none appeared, he approached the car like it might bite.
"I… uh… have a dinner plan?" he offered weakly, gesturing at the general direction of noodles.
"Sure. It just so happens I haven't eaten yet," Shin replied, as Secretary Yun leaned over to open the door for him.
With the chill of inevitability crawling down his spine, Jj Zhi climbed into the car.
The door shut behind him with a sound that somehow echoed finality.