The pressure in Seoul was a constant, low-grade hum, a psychic smog that seeped into everything. The tabloid article, while officially ignored, had painted a target on their backs. Every public interaction was dissected, every professional decision Jin-woo made was viewed through a lens of lurid speculation. He bore it with a stoic grace that broke Ha-ru's heart. The fierce, chainsaw-wielding reformer had been forced to become a diplomat, his every word measured, his every move calculated to avoid providing ammunition.
Ha-ru could see the strain etching itself into Jin-woo's face. The shadows under his eyes were back, darker now. The easy smiles they'd shared in their hidden world were rare, replaced by a tense, watchful awareness. They were winning the corporate battle—compliance metrics were soaring, the stock was recovering on the back of genuine reform—but they were losing the peace.
