The studio was silent, save for the sound of scissors slicing through fabric. Hana's latest design—an avant-garde fusion of Hanbok structure and Parisian minimalism—was starting to take form.
But her hands trembled.
Tae-Hyun's sudden arrival had shaken something in her.Mi-Ho's silence after his text haunted her.And Léon's growing closeness?
That terrified her the most.
"Hana," Léon said from across the room, "You're distracted."
She looked up. "I'm fine."
"No," he walked over, his voice dropping. "You're not."
He placed a hand over hers. "You don't have to carry everything alone, you know."
"I've carried it alone all my life," she whispered. "It's the only thing I'm good at."
Their eyes locked. And for a brief, terrifying second—he leaned in.
But before anything could happen—
"Am I interrupting?"Tae-Hyun stood in the doorway, holding a takeout bag and wearing that familiar, unreadable expression.
Léon stepped back, jaw tightening.
Tae-Hyun walked in like he owned the room. "I thought we could eat together."
"I'm busy," Hana said quickly, voice taut.
"I'll wait," he said, setting the bag down.
It was a stand-off. One in silence. Between a French heir and a Korean chaebol.
And Hana?
She was done being pulled like a rope in a tug-of-war.
That night, she sat alone on the rooftop terrace of the institute. The Eiffel Tower glittered in the distance.
A single thought pulsed in her chest.
I came here for me.
Her phone buzzed again.
[1 New Message: Mi-Ho]"You never replied. But I know. You still feel it."
She clenched her fists. Enough was enough.
She was done being the girl they chose.Now, she would choose herself.