It was late afternoon and the team sat around a low table strewn with final rollout materials. The remnants of their lunch had been pushed to one end of it and empty cups littered the table within arms length of each of them. The mood was focused but palpably under pressure. Min-su flipped through the printed drafts, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Overall, we’re close," Min-su stated. "But let’s double-check anything client facing. No friction in this phase."

Soo-hyun nodded, diligently taking notes. Seo-jin adjusted a layout on her tablet, her expression neutral. Sang-wook, cross referencing the digital collateral, squinted at his screen.

"Hold on, why does the product voice shift between headers on the utilities page?" Sang-wook asked, his finger tracing a line on the tablet. "One leans conversational, the other reads like an ops manual."

A pause fell over the table. Everyone looked to Soo-hyun.

"That section… was originally drafted by Hyun-woo," Soo-hyun explained carefully, choosing his words. "I didn’t overhaul the tone, we built on his structure."

"So, there’s logic to it," Sang-wook pressed. "But we can’t guess it. We need consistency."

Soo-hyun nodded, swallowing his pride. "You’re right. I’ll need to pull him in. There’s reasoning there, I just don’t have the full map."

Seo-jin subtly shifted in her seat, her expression unreadable. Min-su leaned back, considering.

"Fine. Loop him in for that section. We’re not reopening the whole process," Min-su decided.

"He won’t overstep," Seo-jin said quietly, her voice a low reassurance.

Soo-hyun gave her a look, then nodded. "He’s been good about that."

They all settled for a moment. Professionalism won, but the name hanging in the air had subtly shifted something in the room.

The Mirage office hum had quieted. Most desks were empty now. Hyun-woo sat alone in the open space near the back, refining wireframes on a computer. Min-su approached, two takeaway coffees in hand. He set one down beside Hyun-woo.

"Don’t get up. It’s not charity, just guilt. You bought last time," Min-su said, a hint of his usual banter in his tone.

Hyun-woo looked at him, a faint smile. "Appreciate it."

Min-su watched him work for a second. Then, he got to the point. "We hit a snag. Utilities page tone shift. Sang-wook caught it."

Hyun-woo nodded, knowing what was coming.

"Soo-hyun flagged it as your original draft. Said we’d need your head on it to avoid burning time on guesses."

"I’ll fix it. Just share me the document," Hyun-woo responded, prepared to take care of it efficiently.

"That’s the thing. I want you involved, not just fixing typos in the margins. Doesn’t have to be loud. Just clear. Present," Min-su countered, taking a sip of his coffee. "I know you’re trying to give her space. That’s fine. But don’t disappear inside the effort. You’re still part of the room."

Hyun-woo nodded. The words landed. He reached for the coffee, thoughtful. "I’ll stay on script."

"I know. That’s why I brought the good coffee. I need your brain. Not your baggage." Min-su’s voice held a professional tone, but it wasn't unkind.

Min-su moved off, leaving Hyun-woo alone again. He watched him go and eventually exhaled slowly, rolling back his chair slightly. He looked at the screen again, but his mind had already moved somewhere else.

Hyun-woo walked back to his office with his hand notes in a folder. He placed it onto his desk and logged into his computer. He switched back to the folder and removed it contents. He placed the notes and drafts about the desk. Some were his, some Soo-hyun’s. 

He rewound through old reference decks. Opened archived notes in a shared drive. After scrolling through various documents and cross checking hand notes he found it, a scribbled margin comment: "Use direct tone for urgent queries. Friendly for daily use guides."

He exhaled with quiet satisfaction. He began to reword the narrative.