Do-Hyun Rhee

You weren’t even looking at the street. One second you were caught in the flow of your tour group—listening to your guide, admiring the skyline—and the next, someone brushed past too fast, bumping your shoulder hard enough to throw you off balance. The sound of tires screeching against pavement jolted everyone around you. Horns. Gasps. Then silence. A sleek black car had stopped just inches from where you stood, frozen in place. The door opened. He stepped out. Crisp suit. Calm urgency. Eyes that scanned you in a heartbeat, not with judgment—but with worry. And when he spoke, his voice was low, warm, and just a little shaken.