Joon-ho leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the neatly printed list of candidates Park Yeon-jin had prepared for him. Rows of names, credentials, and work histories stared back at him, but none of them sparked his interest. He sighed, rubbing his temple.
"Not impressed?" Yeon-jin asked, perched comfortably across from him with a cup of coffee in hand.
"Not even close," Joon-ho replied, flipping the pages absentmindedly. "Half of them have never handled anything beyond scheduling meetings, and the other half would probably quit after a month."
Yeon-jin smirked. "Are you looking for a secretary or a war general?"
"I'm looking for someone who can handle me," he shot back, tossing the folder onto the desk. "Someone who doesn’t just nod and follow instructions but actually understands what needs to be done before I say it."
She chuckled, setting down her coffee. "That sounds like a unicorn. Unfortunately, I couldn't find one, so you’ll have to settle for a human secretary."
Joon-ho exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against the desk. "There’s got to be someone who fits." He scanned the list again but found his mind drifting—memories of his past life, or rather, his future life, flashing before him.
A name surfaced in his mind. An unexpected choice.
"Yoo Seul-bi," he murmured.
Yeon-jin raised a brow. "Who?"
He sat up straighter, flipping through the files. "She’s not here?"
Yeon-jin blinked, then reached for her tablet. "Hold on. Yoo Seul-bi… the name sounds familiar." She tapped rapidly before looking up. "Oh. Her. She didn’t make the cut because she’s never worked at a high-level corporate firm. Most of her experience is in crisis management and handling… difficult people."
"Perfect," Joon-ho muttered, already intrigued.
Yeon-jin narrowed her eyes. "Wait, you know her?"
"Not personally." Not yet, anyway. "But I have a feeling she’s the one we need."
Yeon-jin leaned back, skeptical. "She’s competent, sure. But are you sure about hiring someone just based on a feeling?"
Joon-ho grinned. "Yeon-jin, when have my instincts ever been wrong?"
She snorted. "You want the list alphabetically or chronologically?"
He laughed. "Just set up the interview. You’ll see what I mean."
She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Fine. But if this blows up in your face, I reserve the right to say I told you so—and I will never let you forget it."
"Deal," Joon-ho said, smirking. This time, I won’t be wrong.
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Joon-ho leaned back in his chair, studying the woman seated across from him. Yoo Seul-bi sat with a straight posture, her expression calm and unreadable. Dressed in a crisp white blouse and a navy pencil skirt, she exuded a quiet confidence—one that didn’t come from titles or wealth, but from experience.
He flipped through her file, even though he had already memorized it. "You’ve never worked in fashion or high-level corporate roles," he said. "But you have handled crisis management and negotiations under Chairman Kang." He glanced up. "Not an easy man to work for."
Seul-bi didn’t blink. "No, he isn’t."
"And yet, you lasted three years as his chief aide."
"Four," she corrected. "I was promoted in my first year."
Yeon-jin, standing off to the side, arched a brow but said nothing.
Joon-ho set the file down. "Your background is impressive, but I have to ask—why apply here?" He leaned forward slightly. "You know my reputation. People don’t exactly line up to be my secretary unless they have… ulterior motives."
Seul-bi met his gaze, unshaken. "I don’t work for gossip. I work for results."
Joon-ho smirked. "Good answer, but still doesn’t explain why me."
She folded her hands in her lap. "You may have a reputation as a playboy chaebol, but you also have a reputation for getting what you want. IMFG is struggling, yet you refuse to let it fall. That tells me you’re not just another heir playing at business—you actually intend to win."
Joon-ho’s smirk deepened. "And you like working with winners?"
"I like working with people who refuse to lose," she corrected smoothly. "More importantly, I know how to handle difficult situations. If you plan to bring IMFG back from the brink, you’ll need someone who won’t crack under pressure."
Yeon-jin let out a quiet huff. "Confident, aren’t you?"
Seul-bi turned to her. "I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t."
Joon-ho chuckled, clearly enjoying this exchange. He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the desk. "I have one more question."
"Go ahead."
He tilted his head. "In my experience, people who handle crisis management tend to be cautious. They analyze risks before making a move. Yet you applied to be my secretary without hesitation. What made you so sure you’d get this job?"
For the first time, a small smile tugged at the corner of Seul-bi’s lips. "Because you need me more than I need this job."
The room went silent.
Then, Joon-ho laughed—a full, amused laugh. He turned to Yeon-jin, who looked less than thrilled but also couldn’t deny the sharpness of Seul-bi’s answers.
"I like her," Joon-ho announced. "She’s hired."
Yoo Seul-bi [https://files.catbox.moe/so3233.jpeg]
Yeon-jin sighed, crossing her arms. "You’re seriously making this decision based on vibes?"
He shrugged. "Vibes and a little thing called future potential."
Yeon-jin frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
Joon-ho didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Seul-bi, a knowing glint in his eyes.
In another life, she would become the COO of IMFG—a powerhouse in the industry.
This time, he wouldn’t wait years to recognize her value.
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The conference room was filled with key department heads, each flipping through reports and adjusting their notes. Park Yeon-jin sat beside Joon-ho, scrolling through her tablet, while Yoo Seul-bi observed the discussion with quiet focus.
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Joon-ho leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against the table. “Let’s get to it. Saint Regis is a powerhouse in luxury branding. If we want this deal, we need to position IMFG as an essential partner, not just another fashion house trying to stay relevant.”
Yeon-jin looked up. “That’s a polite way of saying we have to make them need us.”
Min-seok, the marketing head, nodded. “Saint Regis doesn’t just work with any brand. Their partnerships are built on exclusivity and reputation. Right now, our biggest challenge is proving that we still have both.”
Joon-ho smirked. “Which is why we need a bold move—one that gets people talking before we even step into the meeting.” He set his pen down and met their gazes. “We need a name. Someone who carries weight but isn’t already tied to another luxury brand.”
Seul-bi furrowed her brows. “A celebrity endorsement?”
“Not just any celebrity,” Joon-ho said. He let the suspense hang for a moment before continuing, “Seo Ji-an.”
The room fell silent.
Yeon-jin let out a slow breath. “Of course. I knew you were going to say that.”
Min-seok frowned. “Isn’t she…” He hesitated before finishing, “…out of the industry?”
Seul-bi, who had remained composed until now, tapped her pen lightly against the table. “She vanished after the scandal. No interviews, no endorsements, no public appearances. There’s no guarantee she’d even consider returning.”
“Exactly,” Joon-ho said. “Which is why she’s perfect. She’s undervalued, but still recognizable. If we position this correctly, we don’t just revive her career—we make IMFG the brand that brings her back. That’s influence, exclusivity, and narrative power all in one.”
Min-seok leaned back, considering it. “It would definitely get media attention. But has anyone even contacted her?”
“Not yet,” Yeon-jin admitted. “Her manager has kept a low profile, and Ji-an has rejected every offer that’s come her way. But that doesn’t mean she’s completely off the table.”
Joon-ho rested his elbows on the table. “Then let’s put her on the table. We reach out, gauge her interest, and see what it would take to bring her in. If she’s hesitant, we find a way to make the offer too good to refuse.”
Yeon-jin sighed. “You make it sound easy.”
“I make it sound possible,” Joon-ho corrected. “And that’s all we need to get started.”
Min-seok drummed his fingers against the table. “Alright, let’s say we go after Seo Ji-an and she refuses. What’s our backup plan?”
Seul-bi nodded in agreement. “It’s risky to rely on one person, especially someone with no guaranteed public goodwill. If she rejects the offer, we can’t afford to scramble at the last minute.”
Joon-ho crossed his arms, already expecting this question. “If Ji-an is a no-go, we pivot to one of two alternatives: a rising star with strong public sentiment or an unexpected collaboration with a luxury influencer who already has ties to Saint Regis. The key is maintaining the exclusivity factor.”
Min-seok tilted his head. “Rising star—anyone specific in mind?”
Yeon-jin tapped her screen and turned it toward the group. “There are a few up-and-coming actors and models we’ve kept tabs on. They have growing influence but aren’t yet attached to major luxury brands. We could sign them before they hit peak popularity, ensuring exclusivity for IMFG.”
Seul-bi glanced at the names. “Smart move, but risky in a different way. A rising star’s influence isn’t guaranteed.”
Joon-ho shrugged. “That’s why we also consider influencers. Some high-profile fashion influencers have massive reach, and if we bring in someone with international recognition, it adds a new dimension to the deal. Saint Regis values exclusivity, yes, but they also value buzz. If we create a collaboration that dominates social media, it becomes an asset they can’t ignore.”
Min-seok exhaled. “Alright, so Plan A is Seo Ji-an. Plan B is a rising star. Plan C is a strategic influencer partnership.”
Yeon-jin smirked. “And Plan D?”
Joon-ho grinned. “Plan D is me charming the hell out of the Saint Regis executives and convincing them IMFG is their best option, no matter what.”
Seul-bi scoffed under her breath, while Min-seok chuckled. “Let’s hope we don’t reach Plan D.”
Joon-ho stretched his arms. “Then let’s make sure Plans A, B, and C are solid. We move forward with Ji-an first, but if that doesn’t work, we shift gears fast. No hesitation.”
Yeon-jin nodded. “I’ll start reaching out quietly. Let’s see if we can get a response.”
“Good,” Joon-ho said, a confident gleam in his eyes. “Then let’s get to work.”
The plan was in motion. Now, they just had to see if Seo Ji-an was willing to step back into the spotlight.
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Park Yeon-jin placed her phone on the table, tapping the speaker button without warning. Across from her, Joon-ho and Yoo Seul-bi exchanged glances but didn’t protest.
Joon-ho smirked. “No heads-up?”
Yeon-jin shrugged. “It’s better if she doesn’t have time to prepare an excuse.”
Seul-bi folded her arms. “And if she gets mad?”
“She can sulk later.”
The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered, laced with mild suspicion.
“Yeon-jin? Seriously? Haven’t heard from you in ages, and now you’re calling me out of the blue?”
Yeon-jin’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Nice to hear your voice too, Ha-neul. Been a while.”
Kang Ha-neul snorted. “Yeah, since you vanished from acting and decided you were too good for the rest of us.”
Yeon-jin chuckled. “I could say the same about you. You went from being everyone’s favorite set assistant to Seo Ji-an’s personal shield. Impressive career change.”
“Flattery won’t work on me.” Ha-neul’s tone was amused, but guarded. “What do you want?”
Yeon-jin leaned back. “I’ll be direct. We’re interested in Ji-an.”
The silence was immediate, stretching long enough that Joon-ho and Seul-bi both noticed.
Finally, Ha-neul sighed. “I hope you don’t mean in the ‘we want to cast her in some flashy comeback’ kind of way.”
“More or less,” Yeon-jin admitted. “IMFG is preparing a major campaign, and we need the perfect face for it.”
Ha-neul scoffed. “Then look elsewhere.”
Joon-ho raised an eyebrow. Direct. He liked that.
Yeon-jin, however, remained unfazed. “You shot that down fast. Does that mean she’s completely uninterested, or just avoiding the industry?”
Ha-neul’s voice was firm. “She left for a reason, Yeon-jin. She doesn’t take offers, she doesn’t do events, and she sure as hell isn’t looking to step back into the spotlight.”
Seul-bi tilted her head slightly, then murmured, “She didn’t say never.”
Joon-ho caught the same nuance.
Yeon-jin tapped her fingers on the table. “I get it. But let’s say—hypothetically—she were to consider returning. What would it take?”
Ha-neul let out a short laugh. “You think I’d tell you even if I knew?”
“Come on, Ha-neul.” Yeon-jin’s voice softened, just slightly. “You know this industry better than anyone. Ji-an disappearing forever isn’t a real solution. If she ever does come back, wouldn’t you rather she had the right people backing her up?”
Ha-neul hesitated. That was the first real crack in her defense.
“She gets to choose when and how,” Ha-neul finally said. “No amount of corporate strategizing will change that.”
Joon-ho leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp. “But she hasn’t completely ruled it out, has she?”
Another pause. Then, Ha-neul sighed. “I’ll pass the message along. But don’t expect anything.”
That was all Yeon-jin needed. She smiled. “That’s all I ask. Thanks, Ha-neul.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ha-neul sighed. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you put me on speaker. Sneaky as ever.”
Yeon-jin grinned. “Old habits.”
The call ended.
Seul-bi exhaled. “That wasn’t exactly promising.”
Yeon-jin, however, looked pleased. “It also wasn’t a hard no.”
Joon-ho smirked. “Which means there’s an opening. Now we just have to find out what’s keeping her in the shadows.”
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The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air purifier. Seo Ji-an sat curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. The screen was on, but she wasn’t watching—just letting the flickering light cast faint shadows across the room.
The once-rising star, the lead singer everyone had admired, was now a ghost of herself. No music played in her home anymore. No mirrors to remind her of the stage she once owned. She had erased every trace of the life she lost.
Her voice had failed her. And with it, so had everyone else.
The phone on the table vibrated. Ji-an ignored it at first, but when she saw the name flashing on the screen—Ha-neul—she hesitated.
A call from her manager wasn’t unusual. Ha-neul had stuck by her side even when everyone else abandoned her. But today, Ji-an had a feeling this call wasn’t just a casual check-in.
Sighing, she picked up. “Unnie?” Her voice was quiet, rough from disuse.
“Ji-an,” Ha-neul greeted. “Are you okay?”
Ji-an’s lips twitched. “Same as always.”
A brief pause. “I got a call today. From someone interesting.”
Ji-an leaned back, closing her eyes. “If this is another offer, just turn it down.”
“You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“I don’t need to.”
Ha-neul sighed. “Ji-an… don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to come back?”
The question struck deep. Ji-an’s fingers tightened around the phone.
She had wondered. Late at night, when memories of the stage haunted her dreams. When she found herself mouthing lyrics to songs she could no longer sing. When she saw her former group members thriving without her.
But wondering and actually believing in a return were two different things.
“…Who was it?” Ji-an asked softly.
“Park Yeon-jin,” Ha-neul answered. “She’s working with IMFG now, and they want you for a campaign.”
Ji-an let out a hollow laugh. “Why would a chaebol-owned company want a fallen idol for their brand?”
“Because they see something in you.”
Ji-an scoffed. “Then they’re blind.”
“You weren’t just a singer, Ji-an,” Ha-neul pressed. “You were Seo Ji-an. The industry might have turned its back on you, but the public never forgot. Your name still carries weight.”
Ji-an clenched her jaw. “That doesn’t change anything.”
Ha-neul was silent for a moment before speaking again, gentler this time. “I just wanted to let you know. You don’t have to decide now. Just… think about it.”
Ji-an didn’t answer.
After a long pause, Ha-neul sighed. “I’ll check in on you later, okay?”
Ji-an nodded absently, even though Ha-neul couldn’t see her. “Yeah. Later.”
The call ended.
Ji-an stared at her phone, mind swirling with emotions she had long buried.
Think about it?
As much as she wanted to ignore it… the thought had already taken root.