Seoul — The Penthouse Above the Han River
The Choi residence hung over the Han like it owned every ripple of light below. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Warm, deliberate lighting. Modern architecture sharp enough to cut egos. Neon and ambition painted the city in streaks of gold and blue.
Madigan lounged across the cream leather sofa, phone in hand, scrolling through clips from LUCENT's final tour stop. Ashe's fancam. Again. She paused, letting her thumb hover over the play button. His smile. That smile.
"Come back already," she murmured.
Heels clicked softly behind her, precise, deliberate.
"Madigan."
She turned. Her mother, poised and imperious, filled the hallway in a tailored deep-crimson blazer. Choi Yeonhwa — CEO of YHSeol. Not a tech-startup CEO. Legacy capital wrapped in modern aggression: media acquisitions, global entertainment expansions, strategic buy-ins. Quiet power radiated from her, the kind that bent rooms to attention without raising a voice.
"I'll be late," Yeonhwa said. "Meeting SEVYN's board."
Madigan sat up straighter. "Again?"
"Yes." Her tone was calm. Too calm.
Madigan narrowed her eyes. "You really want them."
"I want LUCENT," Yeonhwa corrected smoothly. No hesitation. No disguise.
Madigan blinked. "You're serious."
"Very."
No greed. No hunger for destruction. Just intention.
"But why?"
Yeonhwa's gaze drifted to the skyline. "Timing."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Madigan rose, closing the distance. "Are you trying to buy SEVYN?"
"No."
"Invest?"
"Possibly."
"Transfer contract?"
Yeonhwa's eyes flicked to her daughter. Calm. Unreadable.
"Madigan."
The word was soft. Sharp. Stop-digging sharp.
"I know one of them is my boyfriend," Madigan said, arms crossing.
"I know."
"And you're still pushing?"
"Yes."
Madigan searched her face. Greed? Strategy? Ego? Nothing. Instead — urgency.
"Mother," she said slowly, "are they in danger?"
Yeonhwa's jaw tightened. Almost imperceptibly.
"No."
Too quick.
Madigan caught it. Yeonhwa stepped closer, voice dropping. "I would never disrupt something important to you without reason."
"Then tell me the reason."
Silence. YHSeol had been built on control. Secrets were currency.
Rarely, her mother reached forward, smoothing a stray strand of Madigan's hair. Affection, quiet and brief.
"When the time is right."
"That's what villains say," Madigan muttered.
Yeonhwa almost smiled. "I am not a villain."
"I know."
"And I am not your enemy."
"I know that too."
Yeonhwa studied her daughter. "You care for him."
It wasn't a question.
Madigan nodded.
"Then trust that what I am doing… protects more than it harms."
The weight landed heavier than intended.
Madigan's pulse slowed. "Protects who?"
Yeonhwa picked up her clutch. "Be wise," she said. The phrase she always used when bigger moves were already in motion.
The elevator doors slid open.
As they closed, Madigan remained, reflected in the glass. Protects more than it harms.
From what?
Across the city, LUCENT's private jet began its descent.
Elsewhere, REBUS readied themselves in their dorms.
And somewhere between contracts, classrooms, and neon-lit streets, something was already moving.
Not catastrophic. Not dramatic.
Just inevitable.