The first light of Jeju's morning crept over the edge of the city, slipping in through the hotel's floor-to-ceiling windows, softening the aftermath of everything that had come before. Joon-ho woke slowly, blinking at the pale gold hue painted across the ceiling, and realized Mirae was still curled beside him, her breathing deep and gentle, her hand resting on his chest. For a long, rare moment, neither of them moved. It felt safe here—removed from the chaos, a tiny world built for two, the only proof of the night before the faint bruises left on his knuckles and the gentle soreness between Mirae's thighs.

Eventually, she stirred, eyelashes fluttering against his shoulder. She looked up at him, cheeks still faintly flushed, and gave him a shy, sleepy smile.

"Morning, oppa," she whispered, voice still husky with sleep.

He traced a finger across her cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Morning," he replied, matching her softness. "Did you sleep at all?"

Mirae wriggled closer, nuzzling his chest. "Better than I have in days," she confessed, letting out a sigh that seemed to carry away the last traces of adrenaline and fear. "It feels… safe, finally."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You are safe."

They lay there a few minutes longer, the city waking up far below them, the world outside momentarily held at bay. But eventually, practicality crept in—there were flights to catch, responsibilities waiting, the promise of a return to Seoul looming. Mirae groaned when Joon-ho finally coaxed her out of bed, but she let him pull her toward the bathroom, one arm looped around his waist.

In the shower, the mood turned playful. Steam rose around them as Mirae yelped, swatting at him when he ran cold water over her back, then retaliated by scrubbing shampoo into his hair with more force than strictly necessary. He retaliated in kind, hands sliding over her hips, teasing her into laughter that echoed off the tiles. But underneath the silliness was a tenderness that lingered—his touch reassuring, her smile lingering.

By the time they emerged, toweling off and pulling on fresh clothes, the exhaustion had faded, replaced by a cautious optimism. Mirae chose a soft, oversized sweater and leggings, hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Joon-ho stuck to his favorite navy button-down, the one Mirae secretly loved most.

They made their way downstairs, stepping into the wide, bustling breakfast buffet. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, toasted bread, and ripe fruit filled the air. Other guests glanced over, some recognizing them from the café broadcast, but most too polite or too shy to do more than whisper. Mirae reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly as they navigated the buffet.

Hye-jin was already waiting at a corner table, waving them over. Her hair was still damp from an early shower, but she looked every inch the competent manager again—phone and notebook on the table, coffee within easy reach.

"You two look better," she greeted, eyes kind but appraising. "Rested?"

Mirae managed a small laugh. "We survived."

Joon-ho smiled. "Thanks to your quick thinking, mostly."

They filled plates with fruit, eggs, and pastries, Mirae stealing extra slices of melon for herself and a second croissant for Joon-ho. When they settled, Hye-jin's gaze grew serious.

"I wanted to update you both before the madness starts again," she said, lowering her voice. "The network is issuing a formal statement today. They'll do the usual PR—apologies to guests and viewers, reiterate their commitment to safety. But… they're also distancing themselves from Do-jin and his agency. It's clear—he's out. For good."

Mirae bit her lip. "What about… the drug rumors? The netizens are already going wild. I saw some of the comments last night—people are demanding blood test results."

Hye-jin nodded, her expression grim. "The company says they'll cooperate with authorities, but you know how these things go. Once the public gets a scent, they'll dig until they're satisfied. There's talk of a criminal investigation. Honestly, it's out of our hands now."

Joon-ho sipped his coffee, silent but watchful. He could see the exhaustion in both women, the way Mirae's hand shook a little as she cut into her omelet. "You did the right thing, Hye-jin. You kept everyone safe, and you took care of Mirae. Thank you."

Hye-jin's mouth twisted in a half-smile. "That's my job. But… I'll be honest, I've never been happier to hand off a mess to legal and PR."

They ate quietly for a while, the din of the restaurant offering a buffer from their private worries. Mirae finally looked up, her voice low. "It's just… I keep thinking about how Do-jin acted. Like everyone else was just there to serve his story. I feel… I feel sick, thinking I ever trusted him, even a little."

Hye-jin reached across the table, squeezing Mirae's fingers. "You're not alone. Everyone was fooled, at least a little. But we're done with him. Now it's about making sure none of this sticks to you."

Mirae's eyes glistened, but she nodded, straightening her spine. "I'm not afraid of the press. Not anymore. I just… want to go home."

As if on cue, Hye-jin slid a set of printouts across the table. "I've booked us on the 3:00 flight back to Seoul. All three of us, together. I figured we could use the company—and a united front for the airport, just in case the press show up."

Mirae's eyes lit up. "Really? We're going together?"

Hye-jin grinned. "Wouldn't miss it. Besides, you and Joon-ho can play 'celebrity couple' all you want at the gate. Just remember to keep the PDA to a minimum for the cameras."

Joon-ho raised his eyebrows in mock offense. "I'll be on my best behavior."

Mirae giggled, her mood visibly lifted. "No promises. If anyone asks, I'm just clinging to my bodyguard."

They lingered over coffee, trading stories about their worst press encounters and joking about the "Coffee Prince" headlines they'd woken up to on social media. Mirae scrolled through her phone, showing Joon-ho a particularly embarrassing meme—his face superimposed onto a barista's body, pouring latte art in the shape of a heart.

"I think you've officially become a legend," she teased, nudging him.

He groaned, but couldn't hide his amusement. "Remind me to lay low in Seoul for a while."

Eventually, they finished breakfast and made their way back upstairs. Mirae started sorting her things, folding clothes with military precision. Joon-ho pretended to fuss over which shirt to wear on the plane—Mirae teasing him about picking something "paparazzi-proof."

He caught her around the waist, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "Whatever happens, we face it together. Right?"

She turned in his arms, smile gentle. "Always."

Outside, Jeju glittered in the sunlight, a last, perfect morning before Seoul's storms called them home. Together, they packed, ready for the next fight—and whatever new beginnings waited in the city.

Seoul was awake in every window, a tapestry of glass and steel and ambition. Inside the headquarters of Lumina, the tension of fashion week was already humming through every floor. Racks of dresses lined the hallways, office doors banged open and shut, and the scent of espresso mingled with designer perfume and ink.

In the biggest meeting room, sunlight streaked through the tall windows. Seo Yura sat at the head of the long table, her phone pressed between shoulder and ear, a spreadsheet open on her laptop and a row of fabric samples spread before her. Her movements were calm but relentless—every inch the commanding, unflappable unnie.

Across from her, Harin was sprawled in a battered velvet chair, her feet tucked up beneath her, mug of tea cradled in both hands. Her phone buzzed on the table with updates, but she was scrolling SNS instead, occasionally sighing at the latest "Coffee Prince" memes.

On the other end, Min-Kyung was deep in a three-way call with a supplier and a model coordinator, scribbling notes with her free hand. Her tone was sharp, all business—until she muted the phone and shot Yura a theatrical glare.

"Unnie, tell me again why I wanted this job?" Min-Kyung complained, waving her pen.

Yura just smiled without looking up. "Because you're the only one stubborn enough to outwork me."

Harin laughed, reaching for another tea biscuit. "It's true, unnie. Min-Kyung just wants to dethrone you as the queen of stress."

Yura looked up, eyes glinting with mischief. "Good luck, kids. I've had three hours' sleep and I still look better than half the board."

Min-Kyung rolled her eyes but grinned. "That's only because you have Joon-ho oppa bringing you skincare from Jeju. I want my own delivery service."

"Careful what you wish for," Yura teased, finally ending her call and stretching her arms over her head. "He'd put you on a cleanse and make you run laps before breakfast."

Harin shuddered. "I'll stick to tea, unnie. And memes. Speaking of which—" She held up her phone, grinning. "Did you see SNS? Mirae's trending for landing in Seoul, but they're already tagging you, unnie, for 'Most Powerful Woman in Fashion.'"

Min-Kyung groaned, "And half those hashtags are '#CoffeePrinceCouple' and '#YuraUnnieGoals'. You're trending and you didn't even leave the office."

Yura shook her head, but there was pride there. "I'll take the good press. But if anyone tries to tag my dark circles, I'm sending them a lawsuit."

Before they could laugh, a firm knock echoed on the meeting room door.

For a heartbeat, all work paused. Harin straightened, Min-Kyung stilled, and even Yura's cool demeanor flickered with surprise.

The door swung open—Joon-ho stepped in, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, a bright Jeju gift bag dangling from his hand. His hair was still damp from the cold, his eyes tired but happy.

"Unnie, oppa's here!" Harin crowed, leaping up and nearly tripping over her own feet.

Min-Kyung rushed over, snatching the gift bag from his hand before Yura could stand. "He brought food—finally! Hallabong marmalade, yes!"

Joon-ho surrendered the loot with a mock bow, laughing. "Nice to see my priorities are clear."

Yura finally stood, a fond smile curving her lips. "Welcome back, Joon-ho. You survived the island."

He gave her a soft look. "It was easier knowing you three were here rooting for us."

Min-Kyung already had a jar open, sniffing the marmalade. "Unnie, you get first dibs, you earned it."

Harin waggled her phone at him. "Oppa, you broke the internet. SNS can't get enough of you and Mirae—'Coffee Prince' is trending everywhere. Even my cousin in Busan texted asking if you'd come for Chuseok."

Joon-ho groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wanted to be invisible for a week. Guess that's out."

Yura just laughed. "Welcome to our world, oppa. Stardom's a team sport."

Min-Kyung chimed in, "Unnie, can we put his face on our next campaign? Just say the word."

He held up his hands. "One condition—I get to approve the lighting. And I want royalties."

Harin snickered. "Deal. Now tell us—how's Mirae? Unnie's been worried since yesterday."

Joon-ho's expression softened, his voice dropping. "She's okay. Tired, but stronger than you think. Hye-jin says the network will release a statement, and the agency's finally getting pushed to answer questions."

Yura nodded, her tone more serious. "We're all watching. If Mirae wants to walk in Fashion Week, Min-Kyung's got the finale dress ready. But we want her choice—and yours, too."

Joon-ho looked at them, gratitude shining through his fatigue. "If she wants it, she'll have my support. Always."

Min-Kyung toasted with her teacup. "To good men and even better unnies!"

They all laughed, the tension breaking like sunlight through clouds. For a moment, the office was just friends, old and new, sharing comfort after the storm.

Yura leaned back, catching Joon-ho's gaze, her smile the gentle: "Rest for now, Joon-ho. Let the world spin. We've got you."

And as the meeting room filled with chatter—about fitting schedules, guest lists, and which souvenir tasted best—the city's noise faded behind their laughter, the team already dreaming of what would come next.

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