The lobby of the Royal Phoenix Hotel was a cathedral of modern opulence. Floors of polished white Carrara marble reflected the warm glow of massive crystal chandeliers that hung from the gilded ceiling like frozen waterfalls. The air was chilled to a precise temperature and carried the subtle, expensive scent of white orchids and ozone. It was the kind of place where a single mistake in dress or posture could make one feel like an intruder, yet Joon-ho walked through the space with a natural, effortless belonging.
As they approached the reception desk, Mirae leaned slightly into him, her head still throbbing with a dull, persistent ache. She felt the weight of the hotel's grandeur pressing down on her, but Joon-ho's presence was a steady anchor.
Joon-ho stepped forward and, without saying a word, produced a sleek, matte-black card from his wallet. He placed it on the marble counter with a soft, metallic click.
