The same stalled elevator. The panic has settled into a strange intimacy. Ha-eun holds the used tissue; the stranger's phone screen has gone dark.

The stranger explains without giving his name or affiliation. Keep the frame tight and claustrophobic.

A brittle joke breaks the fear. The elevator remains stuck, but the air changes.

Maintenance static crackles. The seven-minute wait begins. The speaker provides no rescue yet.

Ha-eun begins speaking more than she intended. The elevator wall mirror shows her small, doubled, trapped.

The stranger gives a brutal, precise answer. No romance glow; just hard overhead light.

Ha-eun hears not comfort but a different moral order. She risks a more private confession.

The stranger answers without consolation. The elevator suddenly jolts back to life.

The elevator reaches the lobby. The polished lobby is empty except for security lights and fictional company signage reading MiraeForm.

The stranger steps into the lobby, then turns. He proposes the rule with clinical calm.

Ha-eun stands framed by the elevator doors. She knows the proposal is unreasonable and still chooses it.