The metallic tang of the air still clung to Y/N's tongue, a phantom echo of the General's searing gaze. She watched him stride away, his uniform a crisp, dark silhouette against the muted walls of the corridor. Her heart hammered against her ribs, an erratic drumbeat that seemed far too loud in the sudden quiet.
She straightened the crumpled edge of her sleeveless sundress, feeling the stark contrast between her civilian clothes and the stiff, pressed uniforms that swished past. The earlier boredom had evaporated, replaced by a prickling awareness. Every junior officer, every stern-faced aide who passed, seemed to glance her way, their expressions unreadable, yet she felt observed, scrutinised.
She shifted on the hard bench, the polished linoleum floor reflecting the fluorescent lights in a cold gleam. Her father, Colonel Lee, was still deep in his meetings. A quick check of her phone showed nearly an hour had passed since the General’s intense look. She traced the worn pattern on her canvas tote bag, a nervous habit.
Why had he stared like that? It wasn't a casual glance, but something deliberate, an assessment that had pierced through her carefully constructed indifference. She could still feel the weight of it, heavy and unsettling. She tried to dismiss it, to tell herself it was just the way a high-ranking officer looked at everyone, but the memory refused to recede.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. The low hum of the air conditioning unit was the only constant sound in the otherwise hushed corridor. A young woman with a neat bun and a tablet tucked under her arm hurried past, her footsteps echoing. Y/N wondered if she was one of the General's staff, or perhaps part of her father's team.
The thought of her father pulled her back. He was always busy, always important, but she had hoped for a quick lunch, a brief escape from the sterile environment of the headquarters. Now, it felt like an imposition, a disruption to the military machine. She leaned back, pressing her palms against her eyes, trying to force the image of the General's dark, unblinking stare from her mind.
Footsteps approached, measured and deliberate. Y/N lowered her hands, her breath catching. It was him. General Kim Taehyung, walking back down the corridor from the direction he had disappeared. His stride was confident, his head held high. He carried a stack of folders, his fingers flexing slightly on the thick paper.
He wasn’t looking at her directly, not yet. He was speaking to a shorter, stockier officer walking beside him, their voices a low murmur. Y/N gripped the strap of her bag, her knuckles white. She told herself to look away, to pretend she hadn't noticed him, but her eyes were fixed, unwilling to break contact with the imposing figure.
As he drew closer, his gaze flickered, then settled on her. The conversation with his subordinate ceased. A slight inclination of his head, a silent dismissal, and the other officer veered off, disappearing around a corner. Taehyung continued his approach, his pace slowing slightly, until he stopped a few feet from her bench.
He did not smile. His expression remained composed, almost stern. The folders were tucked under one arm. His eyes, dark and sharp, met hers again, holding them with an unnerving intensity. This was not a casual encounter. This was deliberate. A shiver traced its way down her spine.