Design is not about perfection. It's about truth."
Professor Armand's voice echoed through the grand glass studio of the Paris Design Institute, where 30 of the best students from around the world stood frozen around Hana's half-completed piece.
She had dared to use fabric from Korea—hand-dyed silks in warm earth tones, subtly clashing against the usual Parisian monochrome.
Some whispered.Some laughed under their breath.
But Léon? He stood beside her. Arms folded. Proud.
"She didn't come here to mimic Paris," he said. "She came to challenge it."
The class turned. The professor gave a single nod.
"Then let her try."
Later that evening, Hana walked along the Seine, heels in her hand. Paris was beautiful, but it was lonely. Her heart still flickered at every Korean phrase she heard, hoping it might be Tae-Hyun. Or Mi-Ho. Or her mother's voice in the wind.
She sighed—and stopped in front of a quaint bookstore.
Through the window, she saw someone.
A man.Back turned.Holding a book she recognized immediately—her father's biography.
Her breath caught.No… it couldn't be.
He turned.
Tae-Hyun.
He smiled, like nothing had shattered between them. "I figured if I couldn't protect you in Seoul, maybe I could at least… support you in Paris."
Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "You followed me?"
"I believed in you. And I never stopped loving you."
Before she could reply, another voice called from behind her.
"Hana!"
It was Léon.
She turned—caught between two men, again. But this time, it was different. She wasn't a prisoner of their love.
She was the one they were chasing.