Chapter 1 : Something's Wrong.
Sapphire Villa — Under Investigation.
Red and blue police lights pulsed in the background, reflecting off the rain-soaked pavement. Yellow crime scene tape fluttered restlessly across the entrance of sapphire Villa.
A reporter stood steady in front of the sealed gates, her expression composed—but her eyes betrayed a quiet tension.
“We are reporting live from outside supphire Villa,” she began, her voice firm, “where authorities have made a deeply disturbing discovery.”
She briefly glanced toward the restricted entrance behind her.
Officers moved with controlled urgency. Forensic teams passed in and out of the property, carrying sealed equipment, their movements precise and silent.
“Earlier today, police recovered two unidentified bodies from within the premises.”
A pause.
The weight of her words lingered in the air.
“According to initial assessments, the remains are in an advanced state of decomposition…”
Her tone lowered slightly.
“…suggesting the individuals may have been deceased for several years.”
The camera shifted subtly.
“What makes this case particularly unusual,” she continued, “is that the bodies were found dressed in what appears to be relatively modern clothing.”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face—but she did not stop.
“This has raised serious questions about how and where the bodies were kept before being discovered.”
A police officer crossed behind the tape. The reporter paused briefly, allowing him to pass.
The wind grew sharper.
The atmosphere heavier.
“Authorities have also confirmed that early forensic indications suggest the identities may belong to the Chairman of Sapphire BioLabs, Mr. Samuel, and his wife, Ms. Eungeol .”
She held steady eye contact with the camera.
“However, officials stress that no final confirmation has been made at this stage.”
A brief silence followed.
Even the background noise seemed distant now.
Muted.
“Adding to the mystery,” she continued, “both individuals were previously reported missing—and their current whereabouts remain unknown.”
Another pause.
This one longer.
“Investigations are ongoing infront of the villa, and forensic teams are conducting detailed analysis as we speak.”
She adjusted her earpiece slightly, listening to instructions from the control room.
“We will continue to bring you updates as this developing story unfolds.”
The camera slowly pulled back.
The reporter remained in frame.
Behind her—suphire Villa.
Silent. Sealed.
And surrounded by flashing lights.
A place where something… did not add up.
✦ ✦ ✦
Four Years Before the Incident — Before Everything Changed.
The silence of the morning was broken as her secretary entered the room.
She moved slowly, deliberately, each step measured and graceful. Bowing slightly, she spoke with a calm, smooth voice.
“Should I explain today’s schedule, Miss sol ah ?”
Sol ah’s dark eyes fixed on her for a moment, studying her with that unreadable, controlled expression.
After a brief pause, she looked away, her gaze flicking toward the window before returning to the secretary.
“Keep it for when I get to the office.”
“Sure, ma’am,” the secretary replied softly.
Without another word, she turned and left the room, her movements as fluid and silent as when she had entered.
✦ ✦ ✦
The Apartment.
Inside a wide, luxurious apartment, everything was wrapped in shades of grey. The furniture was modern and expensive, yet the atmosphere felt cold and distant, almost untouched by warmth. Large windows allowed pale morning light to spill across the marble floor.
In the sleek kitchen, a man stood quietly at the counter.
A knife moved in his hand with smooth precision as he sliced vegetables on the cutting board. Every movement was calm, controlled — as if he had done this a thousand times before.
White earpods rested in his ears.
He wasn’t alone.
“…Tomorrow?” he said suddenly, his voice low.
For a moment, his hand paused mid-slice.
A faint crease appeared between his brows, confusion flickering across his face. Something about what he was hearing clearly didn’t sit right with him.
“Ah… no, there will be no issue,” he said after a short pause.
The knife continued moving again, the soft tap… tap… tap of the blade against the board filling the quiet kitchen.
But his expression still carried a trace of uncertainty.
“…But I have something urgent to do,” he added. “Can you manage it tonight?”
Silence followed as he listened.
Then his tense shoulders finally relaxed.
A small relieved expression appeared on his face.
“Okay,” he said calmly. “Then see you tonight.”
The call ended.
He removed one earpod slowly, placing it on the counter beside him. For a brief moment, he simply stared at the sliced vegetables in front of him, his expression thoughtful — as if something important had just shifted.
Outside the window, the city continued its ordinary morning.
But inside the cold grey apartment, the calm man in the kitchen was already planning something for tonight.
✦ ✦ ✦
Inside the Car.
The black car moved steadily through the morning traffic.
Sol ah sat quietly in the back seat, her gaze resting on the city beyond the tinted window.
In the front seat, her secretary checked the tablet again.
“One last thing, Miss sol ah,” she said carefully. “At 9:30 tonight, you have dinner scheduled with **Chairman hyein geuol son, sae geol” **
Sol ah eyes shifted immediately.
Her gaze snapped toward the secretary.
“What?” she said flatly. “You mean a date… again?”
The sharpness in her voice filled the quiet car.
“Who made this schedule?” sol ah asked, raising her eyes slightly.
The secretary had clearly expected this reaction.
“I’m sorry, Miss sol ah ” she replied calmly. “It was Mrs. Eungeol’s’ order.”
“tell her i don’t want to ” sol ah said without hesitation.
A brief pause followed.
“I can’t,” the secretary answered quietly.
Sol ah’s gaze hardened.
The secretary turned slightly in her seat and continued,
“Mrs. Eungeol said… this has to be done today at any cost.”
Silence settled in the car again, heavier this time.
For a moment, sol ah looked out the window, her expression unreadable.
Then she spoke.
“…Fine.”
She leaned back slightly.
“Let’s finish this dispute of hers.”
Sol ah glanced back at the secretary once more, her tone calm but cold.
“Then we’ll see.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Samuel Corporation.
Sol ah walked through the corridor of sameuol Corporation with firm, confident steps. Employees who passed by quickly lowered their gazes. Everyone knew the atmosphere around the CEO today felt… different.
Without slowing down, sol ah reached the door of Chairman sameul’s office.
She didn’t knock.
The door opened sharply as she stepped inside.
Chairman sameuol looked up from the files spread across his desk, slightly startled. His eyes met sol ah immediately.
Sol ah stood there, her posture straight, her expression burning with restrained anger.
“When are you two going to stop?” she asked coldly. “That’s enough now.”
Mr. Samuel slowly closed the file he had been reading and leaned back in his chair.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, pretending not to understand.
Sol ah’s eyes narrowed.
“You know very well.”
Before sol ah could continue, another voice entered the room.
“Oh… you’re already here.”
Mrs. Samuel stood at the office doorway.
Sol ah didn’t turn around. She only tilted her head slightly to the side, acknowledging her presence without actually looking at her.
Mr. Samuel glanced between them.
“Will anyone tell me what’s going on here?”
Mrs. Samuel walked forward until she stood directly in front of Eden.
“Let’s talk,” she said calmly.
“Sure,” sol ah replied.
She walked toward the sofa area of the office and sat down with controlled elegance, crossing one leg over the other. Her movements were calm, but her eyes remained unreadable
Sol ah kept her gaze fixed on Mrs. sameol, following her every movement… until she walked over and took a seat right in front of her.
The air turned still. Heavy.
“I don’t want any debate right now,” Mrs. sameol said calmly, her tone carrying quiet authority.
“So we’ll keep this conversation short.”
didn’t respond.
Not a word.
Not even a flicker of emotion.
Her face remained unreadable—like a perfectly sealed mask.
A pause lingered between them.
“Sol ah ,” Mrs. Hallows continued, her voice smooth,
“Vice Chairman Halen is a gentle man. I don’t think you should miss this opportunity.”
She reached for her teacup, lifting it gracefully, the saucer steady beneath it.
Her eyes never left Sol ah .
“Besides… Chairman John is prepared to support us with the largest yearly investment in our upcoming project.”
A faint smile curved on her lips.
“You should be grateful… that he wants you as his daughter-in-law.”
Silence.
Only the soft clink of porcelain echoed in the room.
“Mother.”
Sol ah finally spoke.
Her voice was quiet… but cold enough to cut through the air.
“Every good opportunity… comes with the worst consequences.”
For a split second, the atmosphere shifted.
“At least we can give it a try,” Mrs. sameol replied almost instantly.
Sol ah’s expression didn’t change.
But something flickered in her eyes—something sharp… calculating
She slowly picked up her cup, took a small sip, then placed it back down with precision.
“Sure… you’re right.”
A pause.
“There’s nothing wrong… with giving it a try.”
A faint smile appeared on her lips.
But it wasn’t warm.
It was dangerous.
“Good,” Mrs. Sol ah said, setting her cup back onto the table.
“Then don’t be late for The Noble Dine.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Inside the Kitchen — Service Begins.
The kitchen no longer felt like a kitchen.
It felt sacred.
Stainless steel surfaces reflected a muted glow, as though even light had learned restraint in his presence. Conversations had already dissolved into silence long before he arrived—but now, even breathing felt deliberate.
The doors did not burst open.
They yielded.
And he entered.
No announcement. No applause. Only presence.
Chef Hanjeong stepped through in a plain uniform, sleeves rolled with quiet discipline. There was nothing theatrical about him—yet everything about him felt like theatre paused at its most critical moment.
From a corner, a junior chef froze mid-motion. Someone lowered their gaze instantly. Even the executive chef hesitated before stepping forward.
“Chef… welcome,” he said carefully.
A small nod.
Nothing more.
No smile. No excess acknowledgment.
Only observation.
His eyes moved across the kitchen slowly, like a blade without urgency—stations, ingredients, heat levels, timing boards—absorbing everything as though the room had been waiting for him all along.
Then, softly:
“Clear the pass.”
The voice was not loud.
It did not need to be.
Within seconds, the kitchen reorganized itself around him—not out of fear, but instinct. As though everyone understood they had become part of something temporary… and irreversible.
He stepped into his station.
A single black pan was placed before him.
The air shifted.
Silence deepened.
Manger Yoon stood at the side, a quiet, proud smile forming as he said,
“Here he starts.”
“Service begins now,” the executive chef announced softly.
But Chef Hanjeol was no longer listening.
His focus had narrowed completely—to what lay before him.
Charred proteins. Dark reductions. Ash-like seasoning. Bitter herbs—waiting like memories that refused to fade.
He exhaled once.
Then moved.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Perfectly measured.
The first sear hit the pan like a whisper turning into fire. Smoke rose instantly, curling upward as though it recognized something it had once belonged to.
He did not step back.
He did not react.
He simply watched it transform.
A junior chef whispered under his breath,
“He’s not cooking… he’s remembering.”
No one corrected him.
Blackened edges formed under precise control. A reduction thickened into a deep crimson gloss—slow as regret. Ash salt fell like dust over something once alive.
And still, he spoke almost nothing.
Only once did a sous chef ask carefully,
“Chef… doneness?”
Without looking up, he answered:
“It is not doneness.”
A pause.
“It is silence… made edible.”
The kitchen did not respond.
Because there was nothing left to respond to.
Only understanding.
Plating began.
Every movement slowed further, as though time itself had stepped closer to watch. The dish formed—minimal, dark, hauntingly beautiful. Not designed to impress.
Designed to remain.
He placed the final garnish.
Held his hand above the plate for a fraction of a second.
Then released it.
“Fire the pass,” he said quietly.
And for the first time that night, the kitchen moved as one.
But no one felt they had completed something.
They felt they had witnessed something that could not be repeated.
As the plate left the kitchen, one junior chef finally asked the question no one dared:
“Chef… why is it called Ashes of Silence?”
Chef Hanjeong did not turn back.
But his voice arrived anyway—soft, distant, final:
“Because everything I once said…”
A pause.
“…burned before I learned how to cook.”
✦ ✦ ✦
The Noble Dine.
A waitress guided Sol ah toward the table.
Im Sol ah followed calmly, her steps steady, her expression unreadable.
But before she could even reach her chair—
Vice Chairman sae geol spoke.
“You’re fifteen minutes late, Miss Sol ah.”
He was already seated.
He did not stand.
He did not pull the chair for her either.
Just a cold voice… and a colder gaze.
His expression was difficult to read—almost blank—but underneath it lay something unpleasant. Judgmental. Detached. As if her presence itself was inconvenient.
Sol ah paused for a fraction of a second.
Then, without hesitation, she pulled the chair herself and sat down across from him.
Her eyes met his immediately.
Sharp.
Warning.
“I’m not late,” she said calmly. “You’re fifteen minutes early. Seems like you have a lot of free time.”
A flicker passed through his expression.
“Huh… you think so? I’m busier than you.”
He leaned slightly forward, then added in a formal tone,
“Let’s forget that. Tell me about yourself. Your future goals… your interests.”
It sounded rehearsed.
Like a script being read out rather than a conversation being held.
Sol ah tilted her head slightly.
“Are you reading from a script?”
A pause.
His brows lifted faintly. “Sorry?”
“It seems like every word you say is pre-written,” she replied coolly.
Silence dropped between them.
For the first time, his expression shifted—just slightly.
He leaned back into his chair, turning his face to the side for a moment, lips pressing into a faint, dismissive curve.
Then he looked back at her.
The air between them tightened.
Not loud.
Not explosive.
Just… dangerously still.
A low, quiet laugh escaped him.
Not amused.
Not warm.
Something darker.
Vice Chairman sae geol leaned back slightly, studying her with a sharp, unsettling focus.
“You’re… different,” he said.
“Not easy to handle.”
A brief pause.
“Impressive.”
A faint, almost villainous smile curved on his lips.
Sol ah didn’t react.
Im Sol ah held his gaze—steady, unwavering.
“Now that,” she replied softly, her voice calm but cutting,
“is exactly what you are.”
Silence fell between them.
Then—
“I’ve heard about you,” Vice Chairman sae geol said, his tone shifting slightly.
“That you’re a man-hater.”
The words landed deliberately.
Like a challenge.
He leaned forward, placing his hand on the table—slow, controlled. His fingers moved slightly as if measuring the distance between them.
Then his eyes locked onto hers.
“What can you cook for me?”
The question was simple.
But not innocent.
Everything seemed to pause at the edge of that sentence.
It wasn’t curiosity.
It was a test.
A provocation.
A quiet attempt to reduce her—to something measurable.
For a brief moment, the world around Sol ah faded into the background.
Noise blurred.
Light dimmed.
Only his words remained.
What can you cook for me?
Her patience was being tested.
Deliberately.
Carefully.
And he didn’t even try to hide it.
But Sol ah didn’t react.
Not outwardly.
Inside, something cold settled into place.
Stubborn… provoking… predictable.
He was worse than the men she had dealt with before—
Yet still trying to pull her down to his level.
A mistake.
Because Sol ah didn’t fall.
She waited.
Sol ah was not someone who gave expressions easily.
But his words—
They drew something out of her.
A faint smile appeared.
Not soft.
Not polite.
Something darker.
Almost… cruel.
Im Sol ah tilted her head slightly, her eyes locked onto his.
“Businesswomen,” she said calmly, her voice smooth but edged with quiet hostility,
“don’t work or clean for men.”
A brief pause.
“In other words… we don’t serve them.”
Silence.
For the first time—
Vice Chairman Sae geol had no immediate response.
His lips parted slightly, as if to speak—
But nothing came out.
His mind searched for something sharp enough to counter her.
Nothing fit.
Across the table, Sol ah’s gaze didn’t move.
It stayed on him.
Cold.
Warning.
Don’t push further.
Before the tension could escalate—
The sharp rhythm of heels echoed across the floor.
A waitress approached with smooth precision, her posture flawless. Behind her, junior waiters followed in a line, each carrying a dish with careful balance.
They stopped at the table.
She gave a subtle hand signal.
One by one, the dishes were placed down.
Perfect.
Silent.
Controlled.
Then—
A presence stepped forward from behind.
Chef Hanjeong.
The atmosphere shifted almost instantly.
“Chef Hanjeong” Vice Chairman Sae geol said, a trace of pride entering his tone,
“the most renowned chef in Seoul.”
Her attention had already shifted.
To the chef.
To the plate.
To something… deeper.
She lifted her gaze slightly.
Then asked, calm and direct—
“What’s so special about your dish today?”
The plate was set down with quiet precision.
For a moment, the chef said nothing.
He let the dish speak first.
Then—
“This is called Ashes of Silence.”
Chef Hanjeong’s voice was low. Steady. Distant—like something that had already moved on.
A faint trace of smoke lingered in the air between them.
“What you see here… is not meant to impress you.”
A slight pause.
His gaze lifted—meeting theirs for only a second. Sharp. Unreadable.
“It is meant to stay with you.”
He gestured toward the plate without touching it.
“The exterior is deliberately charred—pushed to the edge of burning.
Not as a mistake…”
A beat.
“But as a memory.”
The word settled heavier than the rest.
“Inside, it remains tender. Intact.
Because not everything breaks… even when it should.”
A quiet breath left him.
He continued, softer now—
“The ash you see is edible. Smoked herbs and mineral salt.
It carries bitterness… the kind that lingers longer than flavor.”
The deep crimson reduction caught the light.
“And this—”
A slight nod toward the sauce.
“—is sweetness, reduced until it turns dark.
It begins gently…”
A pause.
“But it does not end that way.”
Silence followed.
Not empty.
Intentional.
Then—
“I suggest you take the first bite without expectation.”
A final pause.
“It changes… the longer you stay with it.”
Vice Chairman Sae geol suddenly broke the silence—
Clapping.
Slow. Deliberate. Overdone.
The sound cut through the atmosphere.
“Miss Sol ah ,” he said with a mocking edge,
“didn’t you like the meal?”
No response.
Im Sol ah calmly lifted her glass and took a sip.
“What is this drink?” she asked.
“Minimalis Mocktail,” he replied.
She turned her gaze to the waitress.
“Non-alcoholic wine, please.”
A subtle hand gesture followed.
Sae geol let out a quiet scoff.
“Seems like you don’t have much experience with expensive drinks.”
Sol ah didn’t even look at him.
“I have a specific taste,” she said evenly.
“I just don’t have the need to chase expensive things anymore.”
A pause.
“I choose… what lasts. Not what costs.”
The waitress returned, carefully carrying a tray.
Just as she stepped closer—
Sae geol extended his foot.
Deliberately.
She tripped.
The tray slipped.
Wine spilled—straight onto his suit.
Silence shattered.
“Are you insane?!” he snapped, standing abruptly.
“What kind of service is this?!”
“I—I’m really sorry, sir—” the waitress stammered.
The head waitress rushed in, apologizing repeatedly—yet instead of checking the fallen girl, she forced her to bow.
“Apologize properly!”
The girl bowed again, shaken.
Sae geol glanced down at her heels with a sneer.
“Those heels… Louboutin?” he said mockingly.
“Or just a cheap copy?”
Sol ah watched everything.
Silently.
Carefully.
And then she understood.
This isn’t about the waitress.
This is his anger… redirected.
He couldn’t dominate her—
so he chose someone weaker.
A display.
A performance of control.
A mistake.
The shaken waitress hurried away.
Sol ah stood.
“Where are you going?” Halen demanded.
She ignored him.
In the mirror-lined hallway, she found the girl struggling with her broken heel.
“Are you okay?” Sol ah asked.
The girl nodded faintly.
“My friend gave me these… they’re original,” she said quietly, almost defensively.
“I know,” Sol ah replied softly.
“You can explain—”
“She’s not here anymore,” the girl interrupted.
A pause.
Something shifted in Sol ah’s expression.
Then—
“I’ll buy you a new pair.”
“No… it’s not your fault,” the girl said quickly.
“It’s mine.”
Sol ah looked at her for a moment.
Then said calmly—
“Wait here.”
Sol ah walked back.
Her steps were steady—
…but something inside her had changed.
She sat down again.
Sae geol scoffed.
“I don’t believe this,” he muttered.
“You went after that pathetic waitress?”
No response.
“Say something,” he snapped, irritation rising.
“Are you ignoring me now?”
Sol ah slowly lifted her gaze.
This time—
She answered.
“You’re pathetic.”
Silence.
“What did you just say?” he demanded.
She leaned forward slightly.
“I said… you’re the one who’s pathetic.”
A beat.
“And a pervert.”
Her voice remained calm.
“Definitely not my type.”
She picked up her clutch.
“We’re done here.”
As she turned to leave—
He grabbed her arm.
Firm. Possessive.
“I’m not done.”
Everything stilled.
For a second—
No one moved.
He didn’t see it coming.
A faint metallic sound—
Then—
In one swift motion, pulled the chain from her clutch and looped it around his neck.
Tight.
She yanked him back against the chair.
The impact was sharp.
His breath caught.
The chain pressed cold against his throat, restricting movement.
He tried to react—
Couldn’t.
Her grip was firm.
Controlled.
Deliberate.
“Don’t,” she said quietly.
Not loud.
Not emotional.
Just enough.
His hand rose instinctively, gripping the chain, trying to breathe—trying to think.
His heartbeat spiked.
But his eyes—
Still locked onto hers.
Not afraid.
Not yet.
And before he could recover—
She reached for his glass.
The Minimalist Mocktail.
In one cold, precise motion—
She threw it straight at his face.
Liquid splashed across his skin, dripping down his jaw, soaking into his collar.
Silence froze.
Sol ah leaned in slightly, her gaze fixed on him—unblinking, merciless.
“Even this mocktail,” she said quietly,
“can’t wash your filth.”
A pause.
Her voice dropped further.
“It’s not even worthy of being wasted on you.”
Sol ah leaned closer.
Her voice dropped near his ear.
“You were trash from the beginning,” she whispered.
“So you deserve trash.”
A pause.
“Find someone who will serve you.”
Her tone sharpened.
“Women like us don’t bow to men like you.”
Another breath.
“We survive… by becoming harder than people like you.”
Then—
She released him.
Pulled the chair back—
Let it fall.
He hit the ground.
The room remained frozen.
The waitress watched—shocked.
Sol ah walked away.
Then stopped.
Turned slightly.
And said, without looking at him—
“Her Louboutin heels… are more valuable than you.”
She left.
Behind her—
Sae geol stood slowly, adjusting his tie.
Silent.
But no longer in control
✦ ✦ ✦
Moving Through the City.
The car moved in silence.
Soft. Controlled.
Rain tapped lightly against the glass—irregular, almost hesitant.
In the back seat, Sol ah sat still, her gaze unfocused.
“It changes… the longer you stay with it.”
The words lingered.
Chef Hanjeong’s voice echoed somewhere in her mind—distant, yet sharp.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Tired.
Fading.
“What if it doesn’t…” she murmured softly.
Her eyes glistened.
For a moment, she looked… human.
Fragile.
Like someone carrying a life that refused to move forward—
because the past never loosened its grip.
The rain grew heavier.
The car slowed.
Then—
Turned.
Her villa came into view.
But something was wrong.
A crowd had gathered at the entrance.
Too many people.
Too quiet.
Too still.
Sol ah’s gaze sharpened.
“Stop.”
The car halted.
She stepped out.
A bodyguard moved instantly, holding an umbrella over her—but she barely noticed.
Her eyes were fixed ahead.
The air felt… wrong.
Heavy.
As if something had already happened—
and the world was still trying to process it.
Voices whispered in fragments:
“Who are they…?”
“They look—”
“No… that’s not possible…”
Sol ah moved forward.
The crowd parted slowly, uneasily, making space for her.
Then—
She smelled it.
A familiar scent.
Her father’s perfume.
Her breath stilled.
Her steps quickened.
The umbrella slipped slightly behind as she moved ahead—rain now touching her hair, dampening it strand by strand.
And then she saw them.
Two bodies.
Lying still.
Dressed perfectly.
Untouched—
Except they weren’t.
Their skin…
Partially decayed.
Not fresh.
Not recent.
Wrong.
For a moment—
Her mind refused.
This doesn’t make sense.
This isn’t real.
She stepped closer.
Lower.
And knelt beside them.
Her hand moved slowly… almost carefully.
She pulled the white cloth away from her father’s face.
Silence.
No scream.
No collapse.
Her eyes searched.
Not for life—
But for something else.
Recognition.
Connection.
Something that would make this real.
And then—
She felt it.
Not his body.
Not his face.
But something… fading.
Like a presence slipping away.
A soul that no longer belonged here.
Her breath caught.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to shift something inside her.
Tears fell.
Quietly.
Without resistance.
Her face remained composed—
But her eyes reddened, her lashes heavy with rain and grief.
So it’s true…
They’re gone.
People moved behind her.
Hands reached—trying to steady her.
But she didn’t react.
Didn’t even notice.
Because something else had already taken hold of her mind.
Why do they look like this…?
This isn’t normal.
This isn’t how death looks.
But in that moment—
She didn’t question it.
Didn’t fight it.
Because the feeling of losing them—
Was stronger than logic.
Stronger than fear.
And so she accepted it.
Not the bodies.
Not the decay.
But the absence.
As the rain fell harder…
No one noticed—
That what lay before her…
Was not meant to exist that way.
✦ ✦ ✦
