The cold Parisian air kissed her cheeks as Hana stepped out of Charles de Gaulle Airport.
No bodyguards.No shadows following her.No pain behind every step.
She was finally free.
Luggage in hand, dreams tucked in her heart, and ambition sharp in her eyes—Hana walked toward the taxi stand like a girl reborn.
In the cab, she stared out the window at the city she had only ever seen in books.
Cafés. Cobblestone streets. The Eiffel Tower in the distance.It felt like she'd stepped into her own dreamscape.
But reality was already waiting.
The elite Paris Design Institute wasn't just a school—it was a battlefield of creativity, ego, and brilliance. And Hana? She was the wildcard.
Day one.
She stood in the main atrium, wearing a sleek black turtleneck, high-waisted jeans, and her mother's vintage brooch pinned to her coat.
"Hana Seo?" a voice called.
She turned.
A tall man with sandy hair and striking green eyes approached. His name tag read: Léon Duclair. Student mentor. Graduate. Son of the school's chairman.
And dangerously charming.
"You're the Korean prodigy they've been whispering about," he said with a smile that could melt frost.
She tilted her head. "Whispering? Already?"
"Oh, this place feeds on rumors," he chuckled. "Especially when someone rejects two chaebols and flies halfway across the world to chase a dream."
Her lips parted. "You know about—?"
"Mi-Ho? Tae-Hyun?" Léon raised a brow. "Everyone knows. The billionaire love triangle has hit Paris."
That night in her dorm room, Hana stared at the ceiling.
Her phone buzzed.
[1 New Message: Mi-Ho]"I let you go. But I didn't stop loving you."
She didn't reply.
Not yet.