Morning sunlight spilled through the revolving doors of the Grand Meridian, casting patterns across polished marble floors and reflecting off a sea of wheeled suitcases and sleek leather boots. The lobby buzzed with the measured chaos unique to Seoul's fashion week: managers juggling schedules, idols trailed by stylists, coffee carts doing brisk business at every corner. Camera shutters clicked, laughter and chatter echoing off glass and steel.
At the center of the swirl, Hye-jin was all purpose and momentum—a dark blazer over crisp lines, phone pressed to her ear as she issued brisk instructions to someone at EON. Her eyes, though sharp and intent, kept darting back to Mirae, who waited quietly beside an oversized suitcase. Even after everything, Hye-jin's protective instincts showed in the smallest things: the way she checked that Mirae's water bottle was full, that her bag's zipper was closed, that she wasn't forgotten in the shuffle.
