The rooftop sparkled above Seoul, city lights blurring with a thousand strands of fairy bulbs. Every pillar wore a garland, heat lamps kept the winter chill at bay, and the air was heavy with the scent of cinnamon, mulled wine, and whatever magic Ha-eun and her staff had brewed for Christmas night. The rooftop bar—usually reserved for Ha-eun's best clients—was now their private kingdom: tables heavy with platters, laughter bouncing off glass, no other guests, no outside world.
