The only thing that can be heard in the conference room is the clicking of pens, as a dozen executives are deciding Logan's future. Getting this job would skyrocket his career, as the Sel, a Seoul based architectural firm is what any industrial designer like him wants in their CV. 

He ends his presentation, inhaling slowly to calm down his raging nerves before the barrage of questions hits him. He needs this job. 

Only problem is, he doesn’t want it. 

His CEO father -and chairwoman grandmother- would be ashamed. All the money and connections and established New York job and he’s squandering his opportunities. It would be the first big project under his name and not his family’s. He has to secure a four month contract to oversee the art distribution business.

The assembly looks at him expectantly as he’s fighting the urge to throw the pointer away and get on the next flight to New York, promotion be damned. 

He’s not acing this interview, the brunette in the tan suit with ruffles circling her neck stares outside the window. 

Great. 

“I have another proposition for the construction site”, the words are out of his mouth before he knows it. If he’s about to go down, better leave them a parting gift. “The space could be transformed into an art center for underprivileged kids, with exhibition sites, administrative offices and affordable housing”. He gets more passionate as he explains his vision, and more antsy as firms rarely risk betting on welfare projects. 

But that gets her attention. 

Sitting on the furthest side of the table, she scribbles something on her pad furiously, a fringe obstructing his view of her eyes. It could be notes on him, or a sketch. It could be her grocery list for all he knows-

She nods to the other men, and sits up, leaving the room. 

His stomach drops. 

“You’re hired, Mr Lee”, the general manager proclaims. “Welcome aboard”. 

Damn. Only four months, he can hold on this long. 

He catches a glimpse of the woman's silhouette walking away. 

Four months. 

—

Day 2 

Back in the US, he’s the heir of the family conglomerate. Americans frown on nepotism, when he succeeded people attributed it to his family’s power, and when he failed, he did despite it. The only way to achieve his dream of being Head Architect is this partnership with this prestigious Korean firm, that will give him the momentum to expand to global markets. 

He can’t walk all the way to the Art Department his team is working with, without people stopping him to introduce themselves and rave about the project. He takes the time to chat with everyone, from higher-ups to assistants -his father stressing how he must be cordial but not too approachable. A litany of names and polished faces demanding his time, asking for drinks and after-work hangs. He politely declines every time, dropping on the cream marble floor the moment he enters his hotel suite. It’s cold and hard. 

—

Day 4

The button lights up, but no coffee drips from the machine to his waiting cup. The break room is equipped with a coffee maker so fancy, it could be plucked right off a hipster, brick-walls-and-light-bulbs-hanging-over-the-table coffee shop like the many that have sprung up in Seoul since his last visit. In clear opposition to its name, it doesn’t make coffee. 

This is why people pay assistants , he thinks as he presses another button with a drop symbol in what hopes to be the magic click. Nothing. 

“Why is this so needlessly convoluted?” he growls and bumps the line of keys indiscriminately with too much force for someone who hasn’t had their coffee yet. 

“To torture newcomers”. 

His head flinches back to the voice. He’s seen her a few times in passing but never for long, with her reputation of being talented, unique and just out of reach, she glides from room to room shrouded in mystery. 

“How long have you been standing there?” 

He takes her in, her eyes sparkling in mirth in a way that doesn’t scream 11 am coffee break, more like an elvish queen, straight out of the Tolkien books he used to steal from his brother. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt your descent into decaffeinated madness”. 

He chuckles, his mood lifted instantly. 

“Are you not entertained?” he exclaims, opening his arms like a roman emperor. “If you’re satisfied with my torture, could you help?”

She approaches to stand next to him, a whiff of citrus following her. He resists the urge to lean in. 

“This is going to get more embarrassing for you”, she warns. 

She slides the cup a tiny bit left then the surface lights up and warm brown liquid fills it in a swift and satisfying motion. 

He purses his lips, surprised that he’s not as flustered as he’d expect -given the awkwardness of the situation. It’s the first time he’s not composed at work, and it’s freeing. He takes her in, her clothes flashing hues of beige accentuated by gold jewelry, as she presents the cup with a flourish. 

“You saved me”. 

“Don’t you forget it” and she promptly reaches out to take the freshly made coffee, before strutting away. He smiles, unfathomably charmed when she turns back to say “Caramel, just how I like it”.