The city was still half-asleep when Joon-ho shouldered his duffel bag and stepped out into the cold morning air. The sky above Seoul was ink-blue, bruised at the edges with the faintest blush of dawn, streetlights casting golden halos over wet asphalt. He sipped his coffee—lukewarm already, bitterness lingering on his tongue—and waited.
A silver minivan nosed up to the curb, headlights dimming as Hye-jin rolled down the window. She wore her usual armor: oversized blazer, phone pressed between shoulder and ear, eyes sharp even at this hour. "Get in, we're running late," she said, voice all business, then barked something to a production assistant through her AirPods.
