Arini walked into the executive conference room unaware that the next hour would change the office climate forever.

Jihoon sat at the head of the long glass table, flanked by board members, architects, and senior managers. He looked as he always did—perfectly composed, annoyingly unreadable.

Arini took her seat near the middle, tablet ready, mind sharp.

The meeting began with the renovation team presenting a proposed modification to the lobby design—a sleek but impractical adjustment that would cost more and serve less.

Jihoon listened, silent and expressionless.

Then the floor opened for comments.

Arini raised her hand.

Calm. Controlled. Confident.

“I disagree with this modification,” she said.

A ripple of surprise swept the room.

People did not openly disagree with Jihoon Kim.

Not unless they wanted a very short career.

Jihoon’s gaze lifted.

Slow.

Focused.

Cold.

“Explain,” he said.

Arini stood.

She didn’t shrink.

Didn’t tremble.

Just pointed at the projected floor plan.

“This design will choke guest flow during peak hours,” she said. “You’ll have crowding near the elevators and reception desk. It looks premium but functions poorly.”

Some managers looked horrified.

Some impressed.

Some prayed silently.

Jihoon didn’t blink.

“The aesthetics are the priority for this launch,” he said evenly.

“And guest comfort should be the priority for every launch,” Arini countered—still respectful, still composed.

Another ripple of shock.

Mina, sitting two seats down, nearly stopped breathing.

Jiwon, across the table, mouthed, Holy s**.*

Jihoon stared at Arini like he was examining a puzzle piece that didn’t fit where it should.

Without breaking eye contact, he said,

“Modification approved.”

Arini’s jaw tightened—just slightly.

But she nodded and sat down.

The room exhaled.

---

After the meeting

Arini stepped into the hallway, rolling her shoulders to ease the tension.

She didn’t see Jihoon standing at the far end of the corridor, jaw clenched, hands in his pockets, replaying the moment she contradicted him.

No one contradicted him.

Not publicly.

Not intelligently.

Not… calmly.

Her voice echoed in his mind longer than it should have.

He wasn’t used to being challenged.

He wasn’t used to feeling irritated by someone he’d barely met.

And he definitely wasn’t used to thinking about it afterward.

He walked away, annoyed at himself for caring.

---

Downstairs, meanwhile…

Jiwon caught up to Arini outside the elevators.

“Okay,” he said, falling into step beside her. “Let’s get straight to it. Have dinner with me.”

Arini blinked at him.

“Dinner? Why?”

“Because I like you,” he said bluntly. “And I have been trying very hard to flirt with you.”

She didn’t laugh.

She didn’t blush.

She just… tilted her head like he’d asked her to help him move furniture.

“Oh. Well,” she said gently, “that’s kind of you. But I’m not interested. Sorry.”

Jiwon froze.

“Not… interested,” he repeated, like the words were foreign.

“Right,” she nodded.

He stared.

She stared back.

Calm as a monk.

“You’re seriously turning me down?”

“Yes,” Arini said cheerfully.

“Why?!” He sounded personally injured.

She chuckled—not unkindly, just amused.

“You flirt with everyone, Jiwon. I assumed it’s just… your personality.”

Mina, passing by, whispered to Youngmi,

“She has no idea she just stabbed his flirt-pride.”

Youngmi whispered back,

“She’s unstoppable.”

Jiwon’s ego shattered in slow motion.

“You didn’t notice I was flirting with you?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head.

“Honestly? I thought you were just bored.”

Jiwon’s soul left his body.

---

That evening at Lúmina Lounge

News traveled fast.

Too fast.

The elite circle lounged on velvet seats, sipping aged whisky, gossiping like bored royalty.

And tonight’s hot topic?

Arini Singh.

The half-Indian consultant who’d:

• publicly challenged Jihoon Kim

• rejected Jiwon’s very expensive flirting

• turned down a date with him

• remained completely unaffected by both men

“She argued with Jihoon in a meeting,” someone whispered.

“And he didn’t shut her down,” another added. “He looked… angry. But intrigued.”

“She rejected Jiwon? HIM? Impossible.”

“She has no idea,” someone snickered, “that she just bruised the egos of the two most desired bachelors in the city.”

And Jihoon, sitting in the corner with a glass of whiskey, listened in silence.

Unmoving.

Expression unreadable.

But his jaw ticked once.

Just once.