For the first time in days, the weight on Lee Joon-hyuk's shoulders loosened—just slightly, just enough for him to breathe without feeling the sharp sting of failure pressing against his lungs. The crisis wasn't over—not even close—but the tide had begun to shift.
One perpetrator arrested.
The replacement batteries near completion.
A small, fragile thread of progress woven into chaos.
It wasn't victory.
But it was enough to bring a fraction of clarity back to his mind.
He stood by the wide glass window of the LJ European HQ, watching the London skyline blur beneath a pale morning light. Cars moved like silver ants along the roads, people rushing about with umbrellas tucked beneath their arms, and the cold outside left thin trails of fog against the glass.
As he stared out at the city, something tugged at his thoughts—soft, persistent, impossible to ignore.
Hye-rin.
He went still.
