Morning at Lunaris Atelier moved like a machine that ran on code instead of caffeine.
Orders weren't flying. Deadlines were.
Phones rang in clipped, professional rhythms.
Keyboards tapped in sharp bursts.
Screens glowed with spreadsheets, designs, and half-finished brilliance waiting to be approved.
The air smelled like printer ink and ambition.
Seo-Yeon stood near the glass partition, calm as ever, a cup of coffee balanced effortlessly in her hand.
Steam curled upward in lazy spirals as she watched developers debate over a bug like it had personally insulted their families.
Behind her, two staff members were whispering.
Not quietly enough.
"Boss acts nice," one muttered. "But you know how it is. Rich family. Probably fake."
"Exactly," the other replied. "Guys like sir don't stay kind. It's branding."
Seo-Yeon didn't turn immediately.
She took one slow sip.
Set the cup down.
Then pivoted.
"Interesting theory," she said smoothly.
The two employees froze.
She walked toward them, heels clicking with deliberate rhythm.
"Since we're discussing character analysis during work hours," she continued, voice calm but sharp, "should I schedule a meeting so you can present your findings properly?"
"N-No, we were just—"
"Just what?" She tilted her head slightly. "Auditioning for a podcast?"
They exchanged nervous glances.
Seo-Yeon folded her arms.
"You think he's fake because he's polite?" she asked.
Silence.
"He pays on time. He listens. He fixes problems instead of blaming staff. That's suspicious to you?"
The taller one swallowed. "We didn't mean—"
"I know exactly what you meant."
Her tone wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
"You don't have to like your boss," she went on. "But you will respect him. Especially when he's done nothing but respect you."
They stared at the floor.
"And if you're bored," she added lightly, "I can always increase your workload."
That did it.
Immediate nodding.
"Yes, Manager."
"Good."
She picked up her coffee again.
Took another sip.
"Back to work."
They scattered like pigeons.
Seo-Yeon exhaled softly through her nose.
Savage? Perhaps.
Accurate? Absolutely.
She turned back toward her desk just as her phone buzzed.
A message from Ji-Ah.
Come home. Dad's almost here.
Seo-Yeon's posture shifted instantly.
Right.
Today.
She nodded once to herself.
Then typed quickly.
On my way.
Before leaving, she sent one more message.
To Min-Hyuk.
Father arriving soon. Prepare yourself.
She stared at the screen for half a second.
Then added:
And stop looking nervous. It's obvious.
She slipped her phone into her pocket, grabbed her bag, and walked toward the exit.
Behind her, the staff worked twice as efficiently.
And somewhere across town, Min-Hyuk's phone buzzed with the kind of text that makes a man reconsider every life decision he has ever made.
--
They arrived with sunlight and tension woven into the curtains.
Ji-Ah was already in motion.
She knelt to pat Yuki and Earth in rapid succession. "Today is important. No chaos. No shedding on prestigious trousers. I am begging."
Earth blinked with the confidence of someone who planned mild chaos anyway.
She slipped into a soft pink dress that made the morning light behave respectfully.
Her long brown hair fell freely over her shoulders, calm and glossy, as if it too understood this was a diplomatic event.
In the kitchen, she finished cooking with sharp efficiency.
Steam rose, aromas curled through the air, and every dish looked like it had something to prove.
Ding-dong.
Seo-Yeon arrived first, stepping in like she owned half the oxygen in the room.
"You're doing too much," Seo-Yeon said, eyeing the table.
"You're doing too little," Ji-Ah replied instantly. "Go change. Properly. Father is coming."
Seo-Yeon scoffed. "I look fine."
"You look rebellious. Fix it."
A dramatic stare. A synchronized eye roll. Then Seo-Yeon marched upstairs anyway.
A few minutes later, Min-Hyuk came in.
He looked composed at first glance, but his fingers kept adjusting his sleeves.
"Nervous?" Ji-Ah asked, tilting her head.
"No," he said too quickly.
"You're vibrating."
He sighed. "It's her father."
Ji-Ah's voice softened. "He's warm. He laughs easily. He just looks strict because his eyebrows were born serious. Trust me."
Min-Hyuk studied her, then nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Good. Now go change before you faint politely."
Nisa and Do-Hyun came downstairs next, looking polished and coordinated like they rehearsed.
"At least now you look presentable," Ha-Joon's voice drifted from the staircase.
Everyone turned.
He stepped down wearing a charcoal gray suit this time.
Clean lines. Sharp cut.
Not midnight blue. Not the one from yesterday. This one felt deliberate.
Ji-Ah blinked.
It suited him differently. Colder. More distant.
"Well?" he asked calmly, adjusting his cuff.
"You look… fine," she replied, folding her arms. "Very corporate."
"Charming," he said dryly.
Min-Hyuk reappeared in a simple, elegant suit. Seo-Yeon followed behind him, lowering her voice.
"I like that yours is simple," she murmured.
He glanced at her. "You're simple."
Her eyes narrowed.
"In a refined way," he corrected immediately.
Across the room, Ha-Joon glanced briefly at Ji-Ah, then away.
Something unreadable flickered in his expression.
He stepped closer to her. "Why is your father coming here instead of us going to him?"
She rolled her eyes with theatrical patience. "Because here is comfortable. And I cooked. I am not transporting six dishes like a catering service."
"That's your reasoning?"
"Yes. And it's excellent."
Before he could argue—
Ding-dong.
Silence wrapped around the room.
Min-Hyuk straightened instantly. Seo-Yeon squeezed his hand. Nisa inhaled. Do-Hyun adjusted his collar.
Ha-Joon didn't move.
Ji-Ah smoothed her dress and walked to the door, steady and glowing.
She opened it with a bright smile.
"Dad—"
And right on cue, Earth the cat slipped past her ankles and strutted toward the doorway like the official inspector of character.
Ji-Ah closed her eyes for one second.
Of course.
Perfect timing.