The glass elevator—the "electric crane" that climbed the side of the mountain—was already waiting, its doors humming as they prepared to slide shut. I stepped inside, the heavy wool of the borrowed coat trailing behind me like a royal cape.
Just as the sensor began to trigger the close, a gloved hand shot between the doors.
I gasped, jumping back as the doors rebounded. A tall figure blurred into the small cabin, slightly out of breath, his chest heaving under the black hoodie.
"Woonbae?" I breathed, my eyes wide. "I thought you were staying up there."
He didn't look at me directly, his cap still pulled low, his breath hitching behind the black mask. "It is late," he said, his voice that same gravelly, muffled pitch. "A gentleman does not let a lady descend the mountain alone. I will see you to the base."
The elevator began its slow, mechanical crawl downward. The cable hummed, and the world of the peak began to sink, replaced by the dizzying, panoramic sprawl of the city through the floor-to-ceiling glass.
I turned toward the windows, my breath fogging the cold glass. Suddenly, a series of brilliant, muffled thumps echoed from the valley below.
"Oh!" I cried out, pressing my palms against the glass like a little child. "Woonbae, look! Look at the sky!"
Far below, near the Han River, a sudden eruption of light shattered the darkness. Bursts of crimson, gold, and violet bloomed against the black velvet of the Seoul sky. Fireworks. A celebration I hadn't expected, transforming the horizon into a canvas of falling glitter.
"Isn't it so beautiful?" I whispered, my voice thick with wonder. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking as I tried to capture the fleeting sparks. "I've seen fireworks in India during Diwali, but seeing them here... from up here... it feels like the stars are falling just for us."
I turned my head to see if he was watching. "Don't you think it's beautiful, Woonbae
The glass cabin was small, barely three meters wide. In the confined space, the scent of her—that intoxicating mix of jasmine and the cold mountain air—was overwhelming.
She was pressed against the glass, her dark eyes reflecting the explosions of light outside. She looked so small inside my coat, her face lit up by the rhythmic flashes of red and gold. She looked innocent, joyful, and entirely unaware of the chaos she was causing in my heart.
"Yes," I murmured, my voice failing to stay in the 'Woonbae' register for a split second. "It is... truly beautiful."
But I wasn't looking at the fireworks.
I was looking at the way her eyelashes cast long, delicate shadows on her cheeks. I was looking at the way her lips parted in a soft 'O' of surprise. I was looking at a girl who had worked her whole life to be a 'strict officer' but still had the heart of a child who loved the light.
"The world explodes in a thousand colors to get our attention, but sometimes, the only light that matters is the one reflecting in the eyes of the person standing next to you."
Suddenly, Sana turned her face toward me, her eyes searching mine.
I felt a jolt of pure electricity, as if a firework had gone off inside the elevator. I realised I had been staring—not as a stranger, but as a man who was falling.
I jerked my head away instantly, fixing my gaze on a distant bridge over the Han River. My heart was thundering so loud I was terrified the sound would echo off the glass walls.
"The view is... very clear tonight," I choked out, forcing my voice back into the rough, disguised tone. "You are lucky. Usually, it is too foggy to see the river clearly."
Sana giggled, a soft, musical sound that made my skin tingle. "I think luck has finally decided to be my friend this week."
THE COLD PARTING
The elevator reached the base station with a gentle chime. The doors slid open, and the hum of the city—the distant traffic and the rustle of the trees—rushed back in.
We stepped out onto the sidewalk near the taxi stand. The wind was softer here, shielded by the trees, but the night was still sharp.
I watched as Sana slowly reached for the buttons of my coat. She slid it off her shoulders, her shimmering peacock-silk saree emerging like a hidden treasure from a dark shell. She held the coat out to me, her hands lingering on the fabric for a moment.
"Here," she said, her voice soft and full of a quiet, lingering warmth. "Thank you for this, Woonbae. I would have turned into an ice sculpture without it."
I took the coat, the fabric still holding the warmth of her body.
"Tomorrow," she said, pointing a playful finger at me, a spark of the assertive officer returning to her eyes. "Tomorrow, I will not forget my own coat. I promise. I won't be a shivering mess again."
I nodded, my mask hiding the smile that was threatening to break my face. "I will hold you to that, Sana."
"Thank you so much again, Woonbae," she said, offering a final, deep bow that made her bangles chime one last time. "For the ticket, for the meeting, and for tonight. You are... You are a very good man."
She turned and climbed into a waiting orange taxi. As the car pulled away, I saw her silhouette through the rear window, looking back at the tower one last time.
I stood on the sidewalk until the taillights disappeared into the neon blur of Seoul. I looked down at the coat in my arms, then at the small paper bag with the silver star she had given me.
"We spend our lives playing roles—the idol, the officer, the stranger. But in the quiet moments between the lines, we find the only thing that is actually real: the person who sees us through the mask."
I pulled my mask down, the cold air hitting my face. I had twenty-four hours until 8:00 PM tomorrow. Twenty-four hours to figure out how to be Woonbae, while my heart was screaming that it belonged to Woonseok.