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To say she was hurt would be an understatement; it was more like the passengers' ears were suffering. Iseul couldn't stop talking, rambling on about the shocking news. Her seatmates exchanged glances, quickly rising from their seats, unable to endure her endless chatter. It was as if she was blissfully unaware that she never seemed to stop.

"Uncle, did you know he used to wear those big square glasses and had long, messy hair? I was the one who fixed it for him," Iseul exclaimed.

The girl in front of her replied, "But he's so attractive now."

"It's all Photoshop! Just Photoshop!"

The next passenger slid into the seat next to her, clearly hoping for some peace and quiet after her uncle had had enough of her rambling.

"Grandpa, did you know I basically made him? Seriously! Without me, he'd be nothing—like a dollar store version of himself!"

"Okay, but let me tell you, he was head over heels in love with me, and I rejected him countless times!" she added, eyes sparkling with mock drama.

"Why would this rich man even look at you?" the new passenger asked, half-amused.

"That's the thing—he wasn't rich back"

Iseul's story time wrapped up as she arrived at work, where she immediately cornered her best friend, Chaeryoung, in the break room. She glared at a magazine cover featuring Park Sunghoon, her nemesis turned ridiculously rich CEO.

"Now I get it! No wonder he didn't even bother to call me—he was too busy hustling!"

Chaeryoung raised an eyebrow, sipping her coffee. "Girl, why would he call you? Aren't you divorced?"

"So what? It's not like I asked for it!"

"Actually," Chaeryoung pointed out, stifling a laugh, "you kind of did. I remember you begging him to divorce you."

Iseul rolled her eyes dramatically. "That's different! I had my reasons! It's not my fault he decided to become a millionaire while I was left with only my crushed dreams ."

Iseul banged her head dramatically on the table, letting out a muffled groan of despair. Just as she contemplated whether she could successfully pull off a nap right there, their manager approached, his smile beaming like a ray of sunshine in the office gloom.

"Girls, would you like some tea and biscuits?"

"God, that's exactly what I need right now," she replied, her voice laced with desperation.

Chaeryoung nudged her arm, urging her to sit up straight.

Iseul shot her a glare but stood up, slightly startled. "Sorry, boss! You know how I'm feeling," she said, putting on her best attempt at a cheerful smile.

Her manager nodded, used to her frequent declarations of being "depressed due to the divorce," which had happened years ago. Sometimes, he'd let her off the hook because of it. Iseul had definitely learned to exploit that particular weakness.

"Look, I don't care! Go do your job; I'm not paying you to slack off!"

As Iseul walked past him, she mumbled under her breath, "As if you pay us that much anyway."

She approached the customers, her smile impeccably composed even as a wave of annoyance simmered beneath the surface. The soft chatter of their conversation drifted toward her, punctuated by familiar snippets of Sunghoon's name. It was impossible to escape his shadow—even here.

"That man is amazing! He started from scratch; he's my icon, really," one of them gushed.

The irony was suffocating. Here she was, juggling three jobs to keep her head above water, while Sunghoon basked in unending praise.

"Um, sir, are you ready to pay?" Iseul interjected, but the guy completely ignored her, continuing the conversation.

"So he made an app and got rich?" another asked.

"Nah, it's not that easy. He divorced that bitch."

The room fell silent in an instant as Iseul's eyes flared with anger. Without a second thought, she grabbed the payment machine and swung it at the man's head, the metal colliding with a thud that echoed through the store.

"Who are you calling a bitch, you scum?" she shouted.

The man let out a low groan, staggering back as he clutched his head. Blood threatened to trickle from a cut just above his temple, and he blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend the chaos. Gasps and shocked whispers erupted around them, customers recoiling in a mixture of disbelief and fascination as the reality of the scene settled in.

"Iseul, stop!" The manager's voice cracked as he pushed through the crowd. He grabbed her arm, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror and restrained amusement, as if torn between scolding and marveling at her audacity.

Hands reached out to separate her from the stunned man, the chaos swirling as murmurs filled the room like the buzz of agitated bees. Iseul's chest heaved, eyes still blazing as she struggled to break free from the manager's grip, her mind racing with unspent adrenaline.

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