[EVE]
I wasn't sure what was happening in the days that followed. Everything felt like a fog, a blur of moments slipping through my fingers before I could grasp them.
But somehow, I found myself rushing to Hyun's studio.
Something in my gut told me something was wrong. And when I stepped inside, that feeling solidified into certainty.
The atmosphere was heavy, suffocating. Like someone had died.
The usually bright and vibrant workspace was eerily quiet. The assistants, the designers, the seamstresses—all wore expressions of dread. Their movements were sluggish, their voices hushed whispers of panic.
My heart pounded. I strode through the studio and straight into Hyun's office.
He was sitting at his desk, hunched over, his hands gripping his temples like he was trying to keep himself together. His eyes were red-rimmed, brimming with unshed tears.
"Hyun," I called, my voice sharp. "What's going on?"
