Mina clears her throat, she has to get out of there now. "Sir, I believe success earned not through hard work tastes...bitter?" She says, something, anything, to cut this uncomfortable conversation short.
San's pleasant mask slips almost imperceptibly, then reforms, but the cold under it remains. He sets his wine glass down with deliberate calm and looks at her as if weighing something fragile.
"You're sweet, Mina-ssi," he says softly. "But kindness doesn't replace pragmatism in this industry." He taps the table once, a quiet, pointed sound. "You should understand how small and connected our world is. One client's opinion travels fast. One missed opportunity becomes a story. One 'difficult' intern becomes an explanation."
Mina's fork pauses. A slow chill spreads through her limbs, they feel weak somehow.
