The boutique lights glowed warm against polished glass, soft shadows dancing across racks of fabric. Joon-ho sat quietly in the lounge corner, the faint trace of perfume and fabric dye hanging in the air. His tea had long since cooled.
Min-kyung was across the room, draped in her chair like a cat with nowhere better to be, when the door burst open and two staff members slipped in nervously, arms full of garments.
"Director Min," one said, bowing. "The alterations team requests your guidance. The cuts for Look Seven and Look Twelve don't fall cleanly."
Min-kyung arched a brow, sighing in mock irritation. "Honestly, must I fix everything myself?" She stood, straightening her skirt, but the sharpness in her eyes belied her tone. This was her battlefield, and she thrived in it.
She glanced at Joon-ho, lips curling. "Stay here, daddy. Don't break anything expensive. I'll be back."
Before he could reply, she swept out with her assistants, the door clicking softly shut behind them.
