The conference room was a battlefield of ideas, and the air was thick with the clashing scents of two dominant personalities. Minho's spiced amber was a wall of focused intensity, while Siwoo's sandalwood wove through it with creative persistence.

For three hours, they had dissected mood boards, fabric swatches, and gemological charts. Minho was relentlessly precise, his vision for the "Celestial" collection as sharp and uncompromising as a diamond cut.

"The 'Andromeda' necklace must be the centerpiece," Minho stated, pointing to a design of cascading sapphires and diamonds. "It's not just a piece; it's a statement. It requires a model who can convey that narrative of dramatic scale."

"I agree on the narrative, Mr. Jeon," Siwoo countered, his voice calm but firm. He pushed a photograph of Jaeho across the table. "But you're thinking of scale only in terms of height. Jaeho embodies the myth—the ethereal beauty. He doesn't just wear the galaxy; he is the galaxy."

Minho's eyes flickered from the photo to Siwoo's face. He had to admit, the Omega's insight was brilliant. It was frustratingly difficult to accept when it came from the man who kept unsettling his world. Every time Mr. Kim spoke, Minho found himself listening not just to the words, but to the cadence of his voice. It was a distraction he couldn't afford.

"Fine," Minho conceded, the word tasting foreign. "We'll test it with Park Jaeho. But the 'Orion' cuff requires a different energy. Power. Strength."

"Naturally," Siwoo said, a slight, knowing smile playing on his lips. "I have just the person in mind."

The meeting continued, a tense but productive dance. During a short break, as staff brought in refreshments, Minho's phone buzzed. It was a photo from Taejoon: Junho, sitting at Taejoon's desk, proudly holding up a colorful drawing. The message read: 'For Appa and Mama.'

Minho's thumb hovered over the screen. A complicated warmth spread through his chest, followed immediately by a cold clamp of fear. Junho's easy attachment was dangerous.

—

Siwoo sipped his water, observing the subtle shift in Minho's posture as he looked at his phone. The Alpha's formidable shoulders softened for a fraction of a second. A shadow of something vulnerable crossed his features before the usual mask of impassive control slammed back into place.

It was in that unguarded moment that Siwoo noticed it. On the shelf behind Minho's seat was a small, simple silver frame. It held a photograph of a smiling man and woman, their faces radiant, and a younger, bright-eyed Minho standing between them. The family resemblance with the man was unmistakable. His brother.

The photo was the only personal item in the entire sterile room.

The pieces clicked into place with a quiet, heartbreaking finality. The extreme protectiveness. The secretive nature. He wasn't just a CEO playing at being a father; he was a man carrying a legacy of loss.

The residual annoyance Siwoo felt evaporated, replaced by a surge of profound empathy. He looked away before Mr. Jeon could catch him staring.

—

When the meeting reconvened, the dynamic had subtly shifted. Siwoo's arguments were no less passionate, but the edge of personal challenge was gone.

"For the 'Orion' cuff," Siwoo began again, his tone more conciliatory. "I wasn't thinking of a model. I was thinking of you, Mr. Jeon."

Minho, who had been reviewing a document, looked up sharply. "Me?"

"The story of Orion is one of a mighty hunter. Who better to embody the spirit of your own creation than the creator himself?" Mr. Kim leaned forward slightly, his eyes earnest. "It's not about being a model. It's about being the story."

The idea was audacious. Minho was saved from responding by a soft knock.

Taejoon peered in. "Sir, apologies for the interruption. But I have to run that errand to Junho's school now."

Junho peeked out from behind Taejoon's legs. His eyes immediately found Siwoo, and a shy smile appeared on his face.

"It's fine, Taejoon. Go," Minho said, his voice tight.

As Taejoon led Junho away, the little boy turned and waved, not at his Appa, but directly at Siwoo. "Bye, Mama!"

Siwoo's breath caught. He waved back, his voice soft. "Goodbye, my little angel."

The door closed, leaving the two CEOs in a heavy silence. The ghost of the child's presence and the echo of his name for Siwoo hung between them.

Minho finally broke the silence, his voice low and devoid of its earlier business-like tone. It was just... tired. "We'll adjourn for today. We've covered enough, Mr. Kim."

Siwoo simply nodded, gathering his things. He paused at the door and looked back. Minho was standing by the window, his back to the room, his posture that of a man looking inwards, at a past he couldn't change and a future he was terrified to lose.

He wasn't just a Tiger. He was a man standing guard over a grave, with a living, breathing cub sleeping trustingly at his feet. And for the first time, Siwoo felt a deep, compelling urge to understand the man behind the myth.

---

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