Kim Joon-ho never quite got used to the sensory onslaught of Min-Kyung's boutique, though he'd stepped through its doors more times than he could count. This time, the buzz was amplified—runway music thumped softly through the ceiling speakers, racks of silk and mesh cluttered the narrow walkways, and everywhere he looked, models milled about in varying states of undress. It was a temple to female beauty and chaos, and today, he was the only man on the schedule.
One of the assistants spotted him and grinned. "Mr. Kim, your fitting set is ready. Room three."
He followed her through the crowd. Girls waved, some called out his name, others shot sly, knowing looks. He smiled back, not quite sure if the rumors swirling around him and Min-Kyung ever bothered him anymore. Probably not. He'd long ago accepted that in this world, secrets were only as safe as the people who wanted to keep them.
