Silence draped over the hall like velvet, thick and unyielding. Rows of employees from K&H Fashion & Cosmetic Group stood motionless, eyes sharp, breaths held. The grand stage was dim, swallowed in shadow, save for a single spotlight that carved through the darkness.
It fell upon her.
A young Black woman sat at the center, regal in stillness, her posture unshaken despite the weight of every gaze. The sterile gleam of silver tools clinked faintly as the makeup artist leaned in, brushes sweeping across her flawless skin. Each stroke wasn't just a test—it was a trial, the fate of K&H's future resting on her face.
Gasps rippled as the shade bloomed across her cheek—luminous, seamless, alive against her complexion. The hush deepened, so sharp that even the ticking of the clock on the far wall felt intrusive.
Then Ji-hye, the head of the team, cut into the silence.
"Well," she said, measured and slow, "shall we see if K&H's future has arrived?"
The makeup artist stepped back, hands trembling slightly, as though afraid to disturb the fragile moment. The spotlight shifted, brightening her face fully.
Another wave of gasps surged through the hall.
The shade wasn't just makeup. It was a declaration. Bold. Uncompromising. History rewritten in pigment.
"She's…" someone whispered, "…stunning."
The room stirred with overlapping murmurs—wonder, disbelief, awe. For years, the industry had dismissed deeper tones. Yet here it was: the impossible made possible, radiant under the spotlight.
At the back of the hall, CEO Min-jae rose. His chair scraped against the polished floor, sharp enough to still every voice. The applause started with him—slow, deliberate, echoing like a gavel. One. Two. Three. Soon the hall followed, thunder rolling in waves, reluctant at first, then overwhelming.
As the applause died down a sharp yet calm voice cut through.
"This is only a prototype," said Chairman Hwan, his tone cold, slicing through the air. "Let's see if your miracle lasts beyond a single spotlight."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Min-jae smirked, his eyes locking with his father's across the hall. He spoke evenly, voice carrying with the ease of command.
"Chairman," he said, "miracles don't fade when they're born of vision. And vision…" His eyes flicked briefly to the girl in the light, then back to his father. "…is something I never borrowed. Not even from you."
A sharp gasp broke from somewhere in the crowd. The tension snapped tight as steel wire.
Chairman Hwan rose slowly, his gaze steady, unreadable.
"Believe it or not," he said calmly, "I am not your enemy. But if seeing me as one is what fuels you… then keep the fire burning."
Without another word, he turned. Mr. Noh followed him out, their departure leaving the hall suspended in uneasy quiet.
Min-jae exhaled slowly, forcing composure.
"Sir," Ga-young whispered at his side, "you need to say something."
He gave a curt nod, smoothing his expression into a smile before striding to the front. The employees clapped again, but he lifted a hand, commanding silence.
"First of all," Min-jae began, his tone solemn yet proud, "credit where it is due. To Mr. Shin, the original mind behind Project Makeover. To Team Five, for their relentless work under impossible pressure. And most importantly…" He paused, eyes finding Ji-hoon in the front row. "…to Mr. Park Ji-hoon, without whom this moment would not exist."
The hall erupted in applause, employees rising to their feet as Ji-hoon bowed in quiet acknowledgment.
When the noise settled, Min-jae's voice cut through with new weight.
"K&H has never followed trends—we create them. Today, we are not simply presenting a cosmetic. We are affirming beauty in every shade, every tone. This," he gestured toward the girl glowing beneath the spotlight, "is not an experiment. This is the standard. And no shadow—of doubt, of opposition, of tradition—will dim it."
The applause returned, louder, wilder, like a storm breaking free.
The girl lifted her chin, a subtle, proud smile curving her lips. In that moment, beneath the brilliance of the spotlight, she was not just a model. She was the crown—the face of K&H's revolution.
---
Minutes later....
The grand hall had begun to breathe again. The crowd thinned, leaving behind scattered voices and the flash of phones as a few employees took selfies with the cosmetic model. Others drifted back to their stations, their laughter fading into the distance.
At the center of it all, Min-jae stood still, his posture calm but his mind unsettled. His father's words echoed like an old wound reopening. Enemy. He had always seen his father as his bigger enemy and he wasn't ready to be swayed, not yet.
"Troubled already?" A smooth, teasing voice pulled him back. Ji-hoon approached, his trademark smile perfectly in place.
"You're supposed to be celebrating, not sulking."
Min-jae forced a faint smile. "Mr. Park."
Ji-hoon chuckled softly. "Drop the formalities. Just Ji-hoon. Makes things less stiff, don't you think?"
Min-jae gave a small nod. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Ji-hoon. You're… remarkable."
Ji-hoon tilted his head, eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. "Did you ever doubt that I was?"
A pause lingered, the question cutting deeper than Min-jae expected. He cleared his throat. "Well… trust takes time. But—speaking of time—the team's hosting a dinner tonight. I wanted to invite you myself."
Ji-hoon smirked. "A personal invitation from the boss? How could I refuse? I'll do my best to be there."
Min-jae extended a hand. "Then let's work together again. Stronger next time."
Ji-hoon clasped it firmly, his smile warm yet unreadable. "It'd be an honor." He exhaled softly, then added, "I'd stay longer to bond, but urgent matters call."
Min-jae inclined his head. "Go on then. Duty first."
Ji-hoon bowed politely and turned toward the exit—only to be intercepted.
From across the hall, Ga-young had been watching, her steps quickening until she caught up with him in the quiet corridor.
Ji-hoon raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Were you… running to me?"
Ga-young, slightly breathless, shook her head. "Don't flatter yourself. I just wanted a word."
"You could've shouted my name," Ji-hoon teased, his voice softer now, tinged with concern.
"I'm fine," she reassured him with a small smile. Then, more sincerely, "I just wanted to thank you—for everything you poured into this project."
He waved it off with an easy shrug. "No need. It's my job. If I don't give it my all, they'll find someone else who will. So in the end, I did it for myself."
Ga-young's lips curved into a genuine smile this time, her eyes gleaming. "Still… I envy you, Park Ji-hoon. You're certain of what you want, and you chase it without hesitation."
Ji-hoon's expression softened, his charm giving way to something more vulnerable. "I learned that from you, Choi Ga-young. Back in school, you were my rival. Competing with you shaped me. If I'm this way now… it's because of you."
Ga-young's cheeks warmed, and she nudged his arm playfully. "Yah! What's with you, suddenly getting sentimental?" She laughed, the sound light and disarming.
Ji-hoon's heart thudded harder than he liked to admit. For a moment, he simply watched her laugh, his smile tugged from somewhere deeper than habit.
"Ms. Choi!" A voice thundered from the hall, breaking the spell.
Ga-young straightened, waving as she backed away. "Go on, I'll see you later."
She turned and disappeared into the hall. Ji-hoon lingered, watching the space she left behind, his chest tightening with unspoken words.
"Why can't you be mine…" he murmured, voice swallowed by the empty corridor, before walking away.