The boardroom was silent—too silent for a room full of powerful people.
Ji-Ah Voss sat at the head of the table, fingers lightly folded, posture flawless. The glass walls reflected the city beyond—orderly, obedient, predictable. Exactly how she liked her world.
"Let's move to the final agenda," her lead strategist said, tapping the screen. "The product launch timeline."
Slides changed. Numbers. Charts. Deadlines.
"Due to global exposure and investor pressure," he continued, "we're compressing the campaign into seven days."
Ji-Ah's eyes sharpened. "Seven?"A fraction of a pause. "That's inefficient."
"It's aggressive," the strategist corrected carefully. "But effective."
Another slide appeared.
CAMPAIGN COLLABORATION: MIN-HO
Ji-Ah didn't react.But the room felt it.
"Our analysis shows that Min-Ho's international reach aligns perfectly with the launch window," a marketing head added. "His presence alone could triple engagement."
Ji-Ah leaned back slightly. "And the risks?"
"Media overlap," someone said."Public speculation," another added."But controlled exposure if managed properly."
Ji-Ah's gaze flicked to the screen again. Seven days. Multiple shoots. Joint appearances. Strategy sync.
Too much proximity.
"And his availability?" she asked.
"He's finishing an international shoot. He can stay in the city for seven days," the legal advisor said. "His team has already reviewed a preliminary clause."
Ji-Ah's fingers tightened imperceptibly.
Already.
"So this isn't a suggestion," she said calmly. "It's a commitment."
Silence.
"It's a necessity," the strategist said. "Backtracking now—especially after yesterday's headlines—would suggest instability."
Instability was unacceptable.
Ji-Ah exhaled slowly. Controlled. Measured.
"Fine," she said. "Seven days."
Relief rippled around the table.
"But understand this," she continued, voice cool as steel. "This collaboration is strictly professional. No improvisation. No personal narratives. No media theatrics."
She looked directly at the marketing head."At any point if this turns into spectacle, I pull the plug."
Everyone nodded.
The meeting ended. Chairs moved. Papers shuffled.
Ji-Ah remained seated for a moment longer, eyes fixed on the screen.
Seven days.
She didn't like variables.
That night, the city moved differently.
Min-Ho leaned back in the leather seat of his car, exhaustion settling into his shoulders. The shoot had dragged longer than expected—retakes, lighting adjustments, creative disagreements. Fame was glamorous only from a distance.
His assistant sat beside him, tablet glowing softly.
"Your schedule just changed," she said.
Min-Ho hummed. "It always does."
"Voss Corporation wants to formalize the collaboration," she continued. "Seven-day campaign. Product launch. Full media control on their end."
Min-Ho opened his eyes.
"Ji-Ah Voss," the assistant clarified.
The car passed under streetlights, shadows flickering across his face.
Seven days.
The staircase flashed in his memory—ivory suit, sharp gaze, a woman who hadn't looked back.
"Seven days," he repeated softly.
His lips curved—not into a grin, but something quieter. More thoughtful.
"Tell them I'm in," he said.
"No negotiation?"
Min-Ho looked out at the city. "Some things are worth understanding first."
The next morning, Ji-Ah stood in her office, tablet in hand, reviewing the finalized schedule.
Joint photoshoot.Ad filming.Strategy briefings.Limited press presence.
And at the bottom—
Base Location: Same Operational Zone
Her jaw tightened.
"This wasn't discussed," she said.
Hye-Jin, her assistant, hesitated. "Logistics, Ms. Voss. Efficiency."
Ji-Ah closed the file with a sharp tap. "Efficiency shouldn't blur boundaries."
"Understood," Hye-Jin said carefully. "But the clause is already signed."
Of course it was.
Ji-Ah turned toward the window, watching traffic flow like data points.
Seven days.Then done.
She could endure that.
Their first official interaction wasn't dramatic.
A video call. Brief. Necessary.
Min-Ho appeared on the screen—fresh, composed, dressed simply. No celebrity theatrics. No forced charm.
"Ms. Voss," he greeted, nodding respectfully.
"Mr. Min-Ho," she replied. "Let's be clear. This collaboration runs on structure. I expect adherence."
He listened. Really listened.
"No improvisation during shoots," she continued."No personal commentary.""No deviation from strategy."
Min-Ho nodded. "Understood."
That… surprised her.
"I'll follow your lead," he added calmly. "You're the strategist."
Ji-Ah paused for half a second too long.
Most people tried to dominate conversations with her.He adjusted instead.
"Good," she said. "Then we won't have problems."
The call ended.
Ji-Ah stared at the blank screen afterward, unsettled for reasons she refused to name.
Why wasn't he resisting?
Min-Ho, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair after the call, thoughtful.
"She's precise," he murmured.
His assistant glanced up. "Cold?"
"No," he said slowly. "Careful."
Careful people had scars.
That evening, Ji-Ah reviewed the seven-day itinerary again.
Early mornings. Long days. Controlled exposure.
Yet a quiet irritation lingered—not about the work.
About the awareness.
She didn't like that he listened.Didn't like that he adapted.Didn't like that he didn't challenge her authority—because it made him harder to dismiss.
Celebrities brought chaos.
And Min-Ho… wasn't chaotic.
Which made him dangerous in a different way.
Her phone vibrated.
Tomorrow: Day One
Ji-Ah locked the screen.
Seven days.
She would remain untouched. Unmoved. Uninvolved.
Across the city, Min-Ho stood by his window, city lights reflecting in his eyes.
Seven days.
Not long enough to fall in love.
Just long enough to understand why she was running.