The thoughts she'd entertained about Julian, the moments she'd wondered if there was something more—her desire for his attention—feels trivial now.
It all feels so far-fetched now, and almost laughable.
"Okay… time to go home," she mutters to herself, her voice barely audible over the hum of the party.
With determination, she turns and walks back toward where she left Harry, eager to leave the suffocating atmosphere behind.
Grace sees Harry, happily chatting with a group of people, and when he turns and notices her walking toward him, his face lights up with a bright smile. He strides over to her.
"Grace!" he exclaims.
Grace smiles faintly, feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping in.
"Harry, this party is really nice, and thank you so much for bringing me here, but I'm not feeling too great right now. I think I need to head home."
Harry's smile falters in surprise.
"Oh…"
"I'm sorry," Grace says, her voice tinged with regret. "I really do appreciate everything. Have a great time here, though."
Harry looks around the room, unsure of what to do next. As much as he wants to take her home, this is his first official event as the son of the chairman of Harrison Group, and the news has been buzzing about him potentially becoming the future chairman. His formal introduction is scheduled in about an hour, and he knows he can't leave now.
"Are you sure you can go by yourself?" Harry asks, concern lining his voice.
Grace offers a weak but reassuring smile.
"No worries. I know the way home."
She gives him one last smile, a small gesture before she turns toward the exit. Harry watches her walk away, his heart filled with worry, but knowing there's nothing he can do. He watches her retreating figure, helpless, before turning back to the crowd.
Meanwhile, Julian, who has been quietly observing from a distance, sees Grace weakly wave her hand at Harry as she steps toward the gate.
Is she leaving already…? he wonders, his gaze lingering on her as she moves away with slow, tired steps.
Something about the way she walks makes him feel an unfamiliar tug in his chest.
Before he can process his thoughts further, a tap on his shoulder interrupts him. He turns to find the chairman of Harrison Group standing behind him.
Julian turns around and sees the chairman of Harrison Group, Harrison, approaching him.
"Julian!" Harrison exclaims loudly, his voice booming with warmth. "Long time no see!"
Julian smiles in response, offering a polite nod.
Harrison was once Julian's apprentice back in the 1980s, when Julian was still at the helm of his own fashion brand. With the knowledge and techniques Julian imparted to him, Harrison went on to create his own brand, which he grew into the powerful empire that it is today.
Unaware that the man standing before him is the very June who mentored him years ago, Harrison beams with pride. He believes Julian is just a respected professor, now teaching at the school his own son attends, a professional who has helped the brand thrive before.
"You always remind me of my old mentor, June," Harrison says with a wide grin. "You look exactly like him!"
Julian simply shakes his head with a casual, nonchalant smile, as if he has no idea what Harrison is talking about.
"You say that every time we meet," Julian replies, his tone light.
"Yeah, because you really do look just like him! June was my role model, my teacher. He taught me everything I know about fashion. I haven't heard anything about him in so long. He must be over eighty by now, huh?" Harrison continues, his face bright with nostalgia.
Julian chuckles softly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. He's well aware of what Harrison is referring to, but he continues to pretend, playing along with the conversation as if it's all just a coincidence.
Julian had long since abandoned his former identity as June decades ago, adopting the official ID of Julian Lenter, born in 1990.
He hadn't aged a day in over a hundred years. Every few decades, Julian would renew his identity and blend into a new generation, and fashion had always been his passion.
Since the end of the war in 1950, he had immersed himself in the fashion industry, creating and innovating, but he never entirely left his former life behind. As a secret agent for the Human Rescuing Society—established in the 1920s—his missions had dwindled over the years, now reduced to only two to three per year. So, he spent most of his time focused on his work in fashion.
The older generations often spoke of the legendary June—the fashion designer and founder of numerous prestigious brands—and how he looked identical to Julian. But no one dared question the resemblance, because Julian was clearly in his thirties, while June would have been well into his eighties by now.
Some whispered that June had passed away, while others claimed he was living a quiet life somewhere in Europe. Whenever Julian heard such rumors, he would simply laugh it off, feigning ignorance.
As Julian stood with Harrison, the chairman of Harrison Group, he was caught off guard by Harrison's whispered words.
"Julian," Harrison said, leaning closer with a conspiratorial tone, "I'm telling you this in advance, and only to you—my son will make his first official introduction to the industry people today at this party."
Harrison pointed across the room to a young man in his twenties, laughing and conversing easily with the guests.
Julian's gaze followed Harrison's finger and froze when he saw the young man clearly.
It was Harry.
Harry—the same one who had been sitting next to Grace Silver.
And that's when everything clicked into place for Julian.
So, Harry is the son of Harrison Group. And now it makes sense how Grace ended up at this party. Harry must have had the invitation.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Julian's lips as he processed the information. He now understood the connection. His thoughts drifted back to Grace.
Right, she went out.
"I'm sorry, Harrison, but if you'll excuse me," Julian says, turning back.
"Oh, okay," Harrison replies with a chuckle.
Julian walks quickly toward the gate and exits.
The warm summer night air brushes across Julian's face as he scans the streets, searching for Grace. He can't shake the feeling that something is pulling him toward her, and when he finally spots her, standing by the crosswalk, looking worn and out of place, his heart tightens.
She seems lost in thought, gazing up at the night sky, her tired posture betraying her usual self-assuredness.
Without thinking, he walks toward her, each step slow and deliberate, drawn by an invisible force. As he gets closer, he finds himself standing right behind her, watching as the streetlight remains stubbornly red.
And then, just as suddenly as it happened, Grace steps forward into the street—before the light changes.
Julian's heart skips a beat.
A car is speeding toward her.
"Hey!" Julian shouts, but his voice barely registers in the air as he darts forward.
Without a second thought, he reaches out and pulls her back, wrapping his arms around her to shield her from the oncoming vehicle.
Everything happens in an instant.
The car skids, but it's too late. The impact comes fast, and with a sickening thud, Julian feels the world spin.
He and Grace are thrown to the ground, landing in a heap.
Grace, dazed and disoriented, opens her eyes to find herself on the pavement. She's confused for a moment, but then her gaze locks onto Julian. Her breath catches.
"Professor Julian...?"
Julian's eyes are closed, his body aching from the collision. His head is bleeding, a thin trickle of blood dripping down his temple. His grip on her tightens instinctively, his body still wrapped around hers to shield her from the worst of the impact.
The car screeches to a halt. The driver, panic-stricken, jumps out of the vehicle and rushes toward them, his face pale with disbelief.
"Oh, no... Professor!" Grace shouts in a panic, struggling to push herself up from the ground.
Her body aches, but her concern for him is immediate.
The surrounding crowd is already gathering, whispering in shock and awe. Someone has seen the whole thing, and the murmurs quickly spread. People point, some pull out their phones to capture the moment, others just stand in stunned silence.
Grace's heart races as she scrambles to help Julian, her hands trembling as she tries to lift him.
"Please... please wake up..."
The world feels like it's slipping out of focus. Grace's pulse beats in her ears, and her mind races with a thousand questions, none of which have an answer. All she knows is that Julian—the man who had, for some inexplicable reason, become someone important to her—was lying there, unconscious, hurt because of her.
In an instant, she hears the blare of an ambulance approaching, and paramedics rush to her side. They help her stand and guide her onto the stretcher, while Julian, unconscious, is gently placed onto another. The stretchers are swiftly rolled into the ambulance, the doors sliding shut with a soft clang. The dark night is lit by the glow of neon signs as the vehicle speeds away, leaving behind a crowd of stunned onlookers murmuring in surprise.