Kim Joon-ho stepped into Lumina's lobby with the kind of unhurried confidence that only came from years navigating rooms thick with secrets and ambition. The reception staff straightened in their seats, one of them—Mina, if he remembered right—offering a smile that was both greeting and silent acknowledgment: you're a regular, but today's different. There was tension humming in the air, a faint static beneath the surface of glass and polished steel. Everyone knew something was brewing—everyone in Korean fashion always did.
He gave his name, and Mina's voice was soft as she handed him a visitor's badge he didn't need. "The meeting room's ready, Mr. Kim. Would you like coffee while you wait?"
