Eun-soo returned to her floor after finishing her workout, a light warmth still lingering on her skin as the quiet of the house welcomed her.
She took a refreshing bath to wash away the morning's fatigue and changed into a light, simple white dress that felt airy against her skin.
She walked toward the piano placed near the window, a centerpiece in her elegant living room that overlooked the city.
Playing had always been one of her quiet comforts, and she sat down, adjusting the bench slightly before resting her fingers gently on the keys.
For a moment, she didn't play, but then, softly, she began.
The first notes were slow and deliberate—almost like she was reacquainting herself with the instrument.
After a few bars, she paused and whispered to herself, "…No, that's not right."
She leaned forward slightly and played the same passage again, slower this time, her fingers pressing each key with more care.
Again and again, the same few measures echoed in the room, each repetition cleaner and more controlled as her hands worked in quiet precision.
It wasn't a performance; it was practice—focused, patient, and deeply familiar.
As the music began to flow more naturally, her thoughts drifted back to her time at the Berklee College of Music.
She remembered the long practice rooms and late nights, the quiet discipline of repeating a phrase until it felt alive.
She had majored in Piano Performance there, but her curiosity had taken her beyond music into studying creative entrepreneurship and arts management.
Her fingers moved effortlessly now, years of training hidden beneath the calm surface of her current life.
After returning to Korea, she had introduced artistic touches into her family's business, organizing cultural experiences within their hotels.
It had worked more than she expected, but success had come with endless schedules and constant meetings that left no room to breathe.
Her hands slowed on the keys as she remembered the quiet exhaustion that eventually led her to ask for time away.
A softer melody filled the room now as she thought of her new life—living more simply as a kindergarten teacher.
She pressed the final note gently, letting it linger in the air before exhaling softly. "…This is enough for now."
After completing her practice, her phone rang just as she was beginning to think about lunch.
"My dear Eun-soo, what are you doing?" her mother asked warmly.
"Nothing, Mom. Why did you call? I remember I have to go to the blind date," Eun-soo replied.
"Oh, it's not about that," her mother said. "Kang Min-ho's mother called; he will be late today, so you can go later in the evening."
"Oh, okay Mom. I will keep that in mind and go a little late," Eun-soo said, feeling a small sense of relief.
"Take care of yourself, Eun-soo. Even if you don't want to marry him, wear something nice. Don't let them feel you are not deserving."
"Yes, Mom, I know. I will take care," Eun-soo promised before they said their goodbyes.
She went to the kitchen and put on her tan apron to prepare a calm Sunday lunch.
She washed and chopped lettuce, cucumber, and tomato, adding a boiled egg and a handful of nuts for protein.
She tossed the salad gently with a light dressing of olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper.
After finishing her lunch, she lost track of time while watching TV until the late afternoon sun began to dip.
She began to prepare for her date, choosing a sophisticated sleeveless black top with a white pleated skirt.
For the first time in a long time, she called her chauffeur and went down to the lobby to wait.
Her black Rolls-Royce Phantom glided to the gate, and the driver opened the door for her as she stepped inside.
She headed toward the Lotte Hotel, where her date was set at an Indian restaurant, a popular choice for the evening.