Night pressed close against the rooftop glass, the city below uncoiling in rivers of color and light, but inside Ha-eun's private lounge, the rest of Seoul might as well not exist. Jazz spun lazy circles from hidden speakers, soft as a secret. Cushions spilled across the floor in a haze of color, shoes discarded, makeup smudged, hair let down. For the first time all week, everyone could breathe.
Ha-eun lounged with the ease of a woman who owned every inch of her domain, her bare legs stretched out along the velvet sofa, silk dress loose on her skin. Joon-ho, caught between her and Min-Kyung, let his shoulders relax—Alina had curled herself at his feet, knees drawn up, eyes sharp with mischief. Natty sprawled on a pile of pillows, braid half unraveled, while Yumi sat cross-legged, twirling a cherry by the stem as she sipped something pink and fizzy.
