The 8th floor of Madam Ha-eun's building still smelled faintly of paint and ambition. Sunlight spilled across gleaming floors, catching on sleek fixtures and big glass panes that stretched from wall to wall—Seoul's skyline at their feet. Joon-ho, Yura, and Harin stepped from the elevator and paused, breathing in the promise of new beginnings.

Harin was the first to break the hush, already pulling out her tablet and spinning in a slow circle. "Fuck, this is bigger than half the influencer offices I've seen in Gangnam. We could fit a dance studio, a shooting set, AND a shrine to Yura's skincare routine."

Joon-ho grinned, eyes flicking from the open-plan expanse to the private office nooks along the side. "If you're building a shrine, make sure it includes the sofa for my afternoon naps."

Yura, hand resting on the curve of her belly, smiled at them both, letting herself linger in the moment. "No napping. We're making history here. Or at least, trying to pay Madam Ha-eun's rent."

The three wandered, voices bouncing off empty walls. Madam Ha-eun's staff had left behind floor plans and fresh flowers. There was a faint hint of jasmine—her calling card, subtle but unmistakable.

Harin panned the main workspace with her camera, already firing off messages to the contractor. "We'll need a soundproof meeting room here, big enough for staff and talent. An open lounge over there—couch, kitchen, coffee bar. The far corner for content creation, shooting, and training. And—" She stopped at the glass-walled room in the corner. "Yura's HQ. For your calls and so you don't have to drag your pregnant ass back and forth to Lumina every time Mirae needs something."

Yura nodded gratefully, running her hand along the windowsill. "Perfect. And if I want to bring in my own team for meetings—marketing, design, whatever—they can use the big table. I'll barely have to leave home."

Joon-ho stopped in the lounge space, grinning. "Just make sure there's a couch for when Harin passes out. And a fridge that can handle all the weird sparkling waters you two go through."

Harin fired back, "You mean the stash for your massage oil and protein shakes?"

"Only if you let me put a juicer in the kitchen."

Yura cut in, "Negotiate that with Ha-eun. She'll want a cut of every bottle we sell."

The banter settled into business. Harin showed them digital renderings from the contractor—glass partitions, acoustic panels, a training studio with mirrored walls, full blackout for shooting, a built-in green screen. She insisted on adjustable desks, a kitchen big enough for team lunches, and blackout blinds for confidential work.

"We want talent to WANT to be here," Harin said. "No intimidation, but still serious. Plus, a cozy couch for when I have to drag Mirae out of the editing room."

Yura pointed to the lounge on the plan. "And a play corner for any babies that show up. I don't care if it's just mine for now."

They laughed, but there was a real warmth there. This was more than business. It was building a home.

Once the initial tour was over, Harin got a call and excused herself to head back to Lumina. "Gotta finish handover. If I don't show Yura's new assistant the ropes, she'll end up scheduling the baby's birth for a Tuesday at noon. Plus, I want to check with Hye-jin about the influencer shortlist and the Mirae-Jina-Rina project. Recruitment's a mess, but it's a good mess. Text me if the contractor cries."

She clapped Joon-ho on the shoulder. "Don't tempt my junior. I don't need another sister to wrangle." She grinned at Yura. "Delegate, rest, don't you dare even THINK about coming to the main office unless it's to eat cake."

Yura shooed her away, laughing, and watched her vanish into the elevator with a dramatic wave.

Joon-ho slipped his hands in his pockets. "She's right, you know. You're not just the boss—you're the icon. Don't wear yourself out."

Yura smiled, leaning against the sun-warmed glass. "This office will save me hours. If I can Zoom in my pajamas and still keep Lumina's machine running, that's good enough for now."

He watched her for a moment, then nodded. "You really are glowing."

Yura rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft. "That's just Harin's energy rubbing off. Go meet your new assistant, Doctor. I'll start drafting a staff memo about snack protocols and mandatory nap breaks."

He smirked, gave her a quick, conspiratorial wink, and left for the café down the block.

The little coffee shop was tucked between a pharmacy and a flower stall. No hype, just mismatched chairs and sunlight slanting across worn wood. Soo-jin was already there—always early, always neat—her hair in a ponytail, scrolling her phone with quick, anxious fingers.

Joon-ho slid into the seat across from her, offering an easy smile. "Sorry. Some things never change."

She looked up, feigning exasperation. "Ten years and you still make me wait, oppa. At least you didn't show up soaking wet from rain like midterms."

He grinned. "Those were character-building moments."

She laughed, softer now, and tucked her phone away. "You always say that when you're late. No wonder you never got the campus belle."

Joon-ho just shrugged. "You know, life worked out anyway."

A brief, companionable silence. Then Soo-jin's expression shifted to something more businesslike. "So, tell me about the job. What does an assistant actually do at your clinic?"

Joon-ho gave her the run-down: appointment scheduling, greeting clients, prepping the therapy rooms, assisting with bodywork setups, handling some admin and guest services. "Some days it's a lot of towels and paperwork. Others, you'll see more naked backs and bruised muscles than you ever wanted. But it's not all grunting athletes and salarymen—we get a lot of women in, especially now."

Soo-jin smirked. "You're not selling the glamour, oppa. Should I expect the occasional idol scandal?"

He laughed. "Idols, models, CEOs. It's Seoul, not a monastery. But you'll be safe, and you'll be in charge of keeping me on schedule. That's no small job."

She took a breath, leaning in. "Why'd you really call me back? You could have hired anyone."

He paused, searching her face. "You're smart, and I trust you. You can handle weird hours and chaos. And…" he trailed off, the old guilt surfacing, "I owed you. For disappearing after we graduated."

Soo-jin blinked, then smiled, letting the forgiveness show. "We all vanish, oppa. It's what we do after that counts."

She took a sip of her coffee, then broached her own story. "I left Jeju because my mom's getting older. She's not sick-sick, just…slowing down. I want to be closer. My boyfriend was supposed to move up too, but lately—he only calls to borrow money for crypto."

Joon-ho raised an eyebrow. "You lend it?"

She shook her head. "No. I need it for Mom. He gets mad sometimes, but I think he's just lost. Or maybe losing."

He nodded, no judgment, but a firmness in his tone. "If you need anything, you call me. Money, help—whatever."

She gave him a look—half grateful, half scolding. "Don't go big-brother on me. I'm not sixteen."

Joon-ho smiled. "Fair. But you start Monday. There's no clients yet—plenty of time to get your bearings before the flood starts."

Soo-jin looked faintly relieved. "And Harin's going to train me?"

He nodded. "She's more organized than me. She'll show you the ropes. And don't be intimidated—she's a marshmallow under the claws."

Soo-jin looked dubious. "Campus belle Harin, a marshmallow. Sure. Next you'll tell me Mirae is shy."

Joon-ho just grinned. "You'll see."

They shared a quiet moment, the past bridged, the future still uncertain but brighter than before.

Back on the 8th floor, Yura was sprawled on the makeshift couch with her laptop, Zoom window full of Lumina faces. She walked her new assistant through brand priorities, shared her screen for a review of the winter campaign, and approved Mirae's schedule—all without stepping outside. When the call ended, she breathed out, massaging her belly, grateful to finally manage work and life on her own terms.

Harin texted progress updates and a barrage of memes, already pushing the contractor for a completion date and threatening to tattoo "NO PINK SOFAS" on the blueprints if Yura's team got too cute with the color palette. Seo Hye-jin sent over a draft of the influencer shortlist, asking for feedback on who to approach first.

Yura replied with a string of voice notes, her instructions crisp, warm, but laced with the confidence of someone who was finally learning to delegate. For once, she felt the weight lift.

Downstairs, Joon-ho left the café with Soo-jin, the two of them falling into step in the cold air, plans already spinning in his mind—clients to line up, a team to build, old friends returning one by one. He felt the tug of responsibility, but also possibility. The family they'd all run from was finding its own shape again.

A message pinged on Yura's phone: From Madam Ha-eun.Call me if Baek pokes his nose in your business. Or if you need cake. I have both.

Yura grinned, replying with a simple: Always. Thanks, unnie.

The day closed with sunlight fading through the agency's windows, city lights winking on as the staff's plans became reality. Joon-ho and Yura stood at the center of their new domain—rooms empty but full of energy, voices echoing with what was coming next.

"Ready?" Joon-ho asked, voice low.

Yura nodded, hand over her belly. "Always. As long as you're with me."

He slipped his arm around her, and together, they faced the new territory—office, family, found home. For the first time, the next chapter felt like it belonged entirely to them.

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