The office was so silent that even the sound of a falling needle would have been deafening. Desk lamps cast long, stretched shadows across the room—Ga-young typing steadily at her system, Min-jae buried in documents, his face unreadable as stone.
Then—
"No way!"
Ga-young's voice cracked the silence, sharp as glass. She shot up from her chair, eyes wide.
Min-jae's head lifted, brows knitting in cool curiosity.
"Mr. Min-jae! You need to see this." She spun the screen toward him.
He rose with measured calm, as if he'd already expected half of what he was about to read. His gaze swept over the email.
"It's from Fendc Group," Ga-young explained, her voice tight. "They're apologizing for tampering with our project. Apparently, one of their employees stole the proposal and passed it off as his own. He's been caught and punished."
A low sound escaped Min-jae's throat, not quite a laugh. "That doesn't add up."
"Exactly," Ga-young said quickly. "For him to breach such secure information, he must have had inside help. Like that designer we flagged."
Min-jae's eyes lingered on the message as if searching for a ghost between the lines. "Namjoon…" he murmured, almost to himself. Then, louder, "This wasn't an accident. One of his men went rogue, trying to bring me down without permission. It didn't suit his persona, he's not the type to get involved with such cheap tricks, so now he scrambles to erase the stain."
Ga-young stared, a mix of awe and dread in her expression. "That's… sharp. Very sharp."
Min-jae turned, his gaze slicing into hers. "Which is why we don't fight it. We play along. Let them believe we've taken the bait."
Her throat bobbed as she nodded. "And the insider?"
"Surveil him. Link his every keystroke to your system. I want to breathe through his computer if I have to."
"And the project?"
"Dispose of it." His tone dropped into something dangerous, velvety. "We'll move forward with Maison Éclat."
Ga-young's lips parted slightly. "Maison Éclat…?"
"Our weapon," he said. "And our shield."
She hesitated, then: "That means we'll need Adore Enterprise—fast."
"Correct. Which team do you trust?"
"Team Seven thrives on storytelling and design. They make emotions visible. But Team Six? They own collaborations, influencers, marketing campaigns. Brutal and effective."
"Fuse them," Min-jae ordered. "They'll lead together. I want a full draft of potential influencers and models on my desk before next week."
"Yes, sir." She gathered her papers and hurried out, heels clicking like a metronome fading into silence.
Left alone, Min-jae leaned against her desk. His reflection stared back at him from the blackened glass—sharp, cold, calculating.
"Maison Éclat," he whispered, the name tasting like both promise and threat. His jaw hardened. "Namjoon… what exactly are you scheming?"
---
Meanwhile—
The whiskey on Namjoon's desk glowed amber in the dim light, untouched. He sat still, long fingers tapping a rhythm against polished wood, eyes fixed on the city skyline.
"Do you think he bought it?" Chief Kim asked from the corner, his voice careful, almost reverent.
Namjoon leaned back slowly, narrowing his eyes. "He's not a fool. Min-jae never is. But he'll play along."
Chief Kim shifted uneasily. "Then why order a the send of an apology? Wouldn't that only sharpen his suspicion?"
Namjoon finally lifted the glass, swirling it lazily. His voice was calm, lethal. "That letter wasn't for him. It was for the world watching—investors, partners, Adore Enterprise. They must see Fendc as stainless, untouchable. If one of my men decided to act without my permission, it's my duty to erase the mistake before it soils my name."
He sipped, unflinching at the burn. Silence stretched, heavy and sharp. Outside, the city lights blinked like a thousand watchful eyes.
Setting the glass down, Namjoon exhaled softly, almost thoughtfully. "Min-jae thinks I'm hunting him. But he doesn't see… there are bigger games at play."
Chief Kim leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
Namjoon's lips curved. "He'll scrap the project and move on to another. Maybe even his secret backup plan. And that—" his eyes gleamed darkly, "—is where I want him."
Chief Kim blinked. "It's almost like you know him better than he knows himself."
"That's the most dangerous weapon in war," Namjoon said, finishing his whiskey in one swallow. "Knowing the rhythm of your enemy's heartbeat."
Kim hesitated, then asked quietly, "And the… runaway?"
Namjoon's gaze sharpened. "He ran. Of course he did."
"How can you be sure?"
Namjoon shot him a withering look. "Because you're still asking. He's gone. He won't matter." He waved a hand dismissively. "If I find him, I'll kill him. That's all he's good for now. You may leave"
Kim bowed quickly and left the office.
Alone, Namjoon turned back to the window. His reflection smiled faintly, but the darkness in his eyes betrayed it.
"Frustration suits you, little brother," he murmured, a shadow curling over his face. "Let's see how long before you break."