The café beneath Joon-ho's apartment was a different world from the city outside. Tucked away, all soft gold and deep green, with velvet seats and an unspoken promise that privacy was more than policy—it was law. The regulars here were the sort who valued discretion over any menu, and today was no exception.

Yura arrived with Joon-ho, their entrance drawing a glance from Su-bin behind the counter—a curve of a smile, then a quick wave as she disappeared into the kitchen. The air was thick with the aroma of dark roast and butter, warm even in the sharp Seoul winter.

At a corner table by the window sat Madam Ha-eun, unbothered by the cold, luminous as ever in an emerald dress that clung to curves and shimmered in the low light. Her long hair was swept into an artful chignon, a pearl pin holding it in place, her lips painted wine-dark. When she saw them, she rose with open arms.

"Unnie!" Yura called out, all caution melting away, her voice echoing with real affection.

Ha-eun swept Yura into a hug, holding her close, inhaling the scent of her hair. "You look like a woman reborn. I was half-afraid Baek had bled you dry for good." She pulled back to examine Yura's face, eyes sharp but shining. "You're glowing, darling. Divorce suits you."

Yura laughed, a real, open sound that even Joon-ho hadn't heard in weeks. "Don't start—if you say 'liberated' next, I'll make you buy the drinks."

Ha-eun grinned, her gaze flicking to Joon-ho. "And here's the man of the hour. You look too sober for this hour, doctor."

He bowed his head in greeting, genuine. "Thank you for meeting us. And for the magic you worked for Mirae. I heard the finance ministry's phone lines nearly melted."

Ha-eun waved a hand, slipping back into her seat with the unhurried grace of someone used to being obeyed. "Please. It was nothing. I only called in a favor to an old oppa—the finance minister's got a soft spot for girls who can drink, and a hard time saying no to me." She winked at Yura, who groaned but grinned.

"I swear you'll run this country one day," Yura said, settling beside her, Joon-ho sliding into the opposite chair.

"Only the fun parts," Ha-eun replied, winking.

Su-bin appeared just then, carrying a lacquered tray with perfect tea, double-shot espresso for Ha-eun, delicate pastries, and a little smile for Joon-ho that was half-tease, half-dare. She placed everything, poured the tea, and vanished without a word, closing the private lounge door behind her.

Joon-ho glanced around, then leaned in. "We needed this. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe."

Ha-eun nodded, her eyes gentle for a moment. "Everyone needs a sanctuary. Especially now. So—what's the real news, Yura? I can tell you're about to burst."

Yura's hands shook a little as she lifted her tea. She looked at Joon-ho, who squeezed her knee under the table, then turned to Ha-eun.

"I'm pregnant," she said softly. "It's early, but it's real."

The silence that followed was so complete, the tick of the wall clock filled it. Then Ha-eun's face broke into a grin, her eyes flooding with tears she'd never admit to. She lunged across the table, nearly spilling tea, hugging Yura again.

"Thank all the gods!" she crowed. "And it's Joon-ho's? Not that limp-dick Baek's? Ah—this is a blessing. The city should throw a festival. When do we get to pop the champagne?"

Yura laughed, cheeks blazing. "After the birth, unnie. I promised Mom I'd behave. For now, tea."

Ha-eun composed herself, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. She turned to Joon-ho, voice low and sincere. "You take care of her. I know you're strong—but she'll need more than muscle this time. The Seos and Baek…they won't let this be easy."

Joon-ho nodded, all humor gone. "I'll protect her. They can try whatever they want—I'm not backing down."

Ha-eun's smile returned, sly. "Baek's already trying, I hear. He sent you a message?"

Joon-ho fished out his phone, showed them the text. The words were cold, perfunctory—Heard the news. Don't get too comfortable. The Seos have long memories.

Ha-eun snorted, rolling her eyes. "That man couldn't keep a goldfish alive, let alone a grudge. Hasn't managed to get a single mistress pregnant, either. Maybe his wallet's not the only thing empty." She sipped her espresso, gaze sharp as knives.

Yura stifled a laugh. "His crypto queen's vanished too. I heard she cleared out with a couple friends—Paris, maybe. The influencers are calling it a heist."

Ha-eun howled. "Serves him right! That's what happens when you chase Instagram pussy instead of learning how to fuck." She grinned at Joon-ho. "No such complaints with you, I hope?"

He blushed, shaking his head. "None so far. I try to keep my clients satisfied."

Yura grinned. "Overtime pay's generous."

The women cackled, the tension breaking into something easy, rich with old affection and the comfortable filth only friends could trade. They moved on—Ha-eun sharing political gossip, hints of parties and new alliances, stories of how the city had shifted since Yura's last visit. Yura updated her about Lumina's winter launch, Mirae's new solo contract, Min-Kyung's New York chaos, and the ever-growing group chat madness.

After a lull, Yura cleared her throat, glancing at Joon-ho. "We actually wanted to talk about something else too—business. LUNE is ready to open an agency office, and we need a space. Something independent, but close to Lumina."

Ha-eun's brows lifted. "You're moving fast. I heard about LUNE before I even saw the press release. Good. You need your own kingdom." She sipped, thinking. "You know I own this whole building, right? Eighth to tenth floors are open—take your pick. The carpark's private, the security's mine, and if anyone asks, it's a creative studio. No one will bother you."

Joon-ho sat forward, gratitude shining through his practiced calm. "That's—more than I expected. Thank you, Ha-eun. It'll be good for the team. We can move in next month."

Ha-eun grinned, predatory. "You're building a harem and a business—might as well keep them all under one roof. In fact—" She turned to Yura, voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, "—should I have the unit below your current place prepped? That way, when you get tired of playing house with Joon-ho, you've got an escape route."

Yura burst out laughing. "Maybe I'll take the penthouse. Make him earn a visit." She nudged Joon-ho. "What do you think? One big nest? Or are you scared to live with so many women?"

He smirked. "I'll take the challenge. Besides, easier to take care of everyone if you're all within arm's reach."

Ha-eun winked. "That's the spirit. I'll have my people send over the lease agreements. And don't worry—if Baek or the Seos poke around, they'll run into a wall. I owe you, Yura. I won't forget it."

Yura smiled, gratitude real and unfiltered. "Thank you, unnie. For everything. And don't be surprised if my mother starts dropping off groceries every week."

Ha-eun's lips twitched. "She's welcome on the rooftop any time. I'll even clear a corner for her kimchi jars."

They slipped back into gossip, Ha-eun giving updates on the city's power players, Yura sharing stories from fashion week—scandal, sabotage, surprise alliances. Joon-ho watched the two women, feeling the pulse of something old and indestructible—their bond, sharpened by hard-won survival, now glowing with new hope.

He checked his phone, typed out a message to Harin, Mirae, and Ji-hye: LUNE office is a go—new space, full privacy. Will update on move-in. Also: Min-Kyung, start sending dresses to my place, not Yura's. Housewarming soon.

Yura caught him in the act, stole the phone, and snapped a selfie with Ha-eun, both of them making lewd faces. She sent it to the group chat with the caption: Guess who just got approval from the queen herself?

The replies came fast—Harin demanding a bar tab, Mirae sending hearts, Ji-hye promising to help move (and stake out the best closet).

Ha-eun sipped her espresso, a satisfied look settling over her face. "Family. That's what matters. Not the old money or the old men. The people who stand with you, fight with you, laugh when the world wants to tear you down."

Yura reached over, squeezed her hand. "You're ours, too."

Joon-ho's hand landed on Yura's thigh, a silent promise. "I'll keep you both safe. Whatever comes."

Ha-eun flashed him a rare, real smile. "Just keep her happy, doctor. And maybe let her have the penthouse if she asks for it."

They lingered for another hour, plotting the move, debating interior design (Yura and Ha-eun ganged up, Joon-ho outvoted at every turn), arguing about what counted as "essential" for a proper agency home.

As they left, Ha-eun pulled Yura close once more. "Take care of yourself, little sister. If you need anything, day or night, you call me. Or send Joon-ho, if he's not too busy with his hands full."

Yura grinned, nodding. "Deal. You'll be the first to meet the baby—after the chaos dies down."

They parted on the sidewalk, Seoul's neon burning into dusk. Yura leaned into Joon-ho, heart light, future unwinding ahead—stronger, safer, wilder, and, for the first time, fully hers.

At the elevator, Joon-ho whispered, "Ready to tell the others?"

Yura laughed, bright as the city. "Let's give them something to talk about."

And as the doors slid shut, the new empire began—one floor at a time, with all the queens in place.

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