The restaurant was warm with the thrum of evening conversation, the air scented with grilling meat, garlic, and tangy gochujang. Behind a half-partitioned booth, Yura, Harin, Min-Kyung, and Joon-ho clustered around a table already crowded with small dishes and empty glasses, coats and bags tossed carelessly onto the next chair.
Joon-ho, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket, raised his voice over the ambient noise. "That's it. No more work talk—just for tonight. I'm confiscating everyone's phones if I see any more emails."
Min-Kyung dropped her head against Harin's shoulder in relief. "Bless you, oppa. I was two emails away from throwing myself out the window."
Yura shot him a mock-glare, lips curling in a way that made it clear she was grateful for the excuse to relax. "Only you would dare tell me to clock out, Joon-ho."
"Someone has to," he replied, grinning, and poured her a drink.
