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The scent hits first. Dark rose, white pepper, and something sharp underneath - like cold metal at midnight. Jennie Ruby Jane walks through the glass doors of Kim Corp's headquarters, and time bends. Staff straighten up. Conversations drop mid-sentence. She doesn't look at anyone. She never needs to. Her heels click against imported marble as if announcing a verdict, not an arrival. Her face is unreadable - not emotionless, just carefully engineered. As perfect and untouchable as the perfume empire she built from scratch. Jennie is not warm. She is gravity in a black suit. ⸻ On the 28th floor, Lisa hears the footsteps before she sees her. Always five minutes early. Always in black. Always smelling like heartbreak in a bottle. Lisa turns slightly, pretending to read the numbers on her iPad. Her fingers hover above the screen, frozen. Don't look like you've loved her for years. Jennie walks past her. Doesn't speak. Just pauses for a half-second - enough to flick her gaze toward Lisa's direction - then disappears into the corner office. Lisa doesn't breathe until the door closes. ⸻ It's been 4 years. 4 promotions. Hundreds of sleepless nights building the very campaigns that made Jennie Kim ahousehold name across Southeast Asia. Lisa is the youngest Marketing Director in company history. She's sharp, strategic, respected. Instead, she's exhausted - from carrying numbers on her back by day and emotions on her chest by night. Jennie never touches her. Never says her name unless necessary. Never lets her get too close. But somehow... never quite lets her go, either. ⸻ Rosé says Lisa's addicted to the pain. Jisoo just calls it career suicide in slow motion. Lisa doesn't answer either of them. She just keeps showing up. Keeps designing campaigns around the way Jennie moves. Keeps writing scent descriptions that read more like love letters. Keeps pretending her chest doesn't ache every time Jennie smiles - just slightly - at someone who isn't her