"So? It's down to these two—you've gotta pick eventually," Hyeri said, swirling her third drink of the evening like a true connoisseur of procrastination. Her sharp gaze landed on Nabi, who was sprawled on the couch like decision-making was a mortal wound.
Nabi sighed dramatically, equal parts annoyed and resigned. She couldn't believe the three of them had managed to narrow down fifty-six profiles to two. Honestly, it felt like an achievement worthy of a standing ovation. She glanced at Kenji, hoping for some semblance of reassurance, but his bloodshot eyes and zombie-like posture only reminded her of how long they'd been at this.
She shifted her gaze back to the glossy photos in front of her. One was of an idol, the other an actor—both objectively stunning, but neither felt like the one. Something was off, and Nabi couldn't quite pinpoint what. She could already tell it would be a nightmare trying to mold either of them into the vision she had for the campaign.
Her eyes wandered around the room, desperate for a distraction, when they landed on a piece of paper haphazardly lying near the edge of the coffee table. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at the rogue document.
Kenji followed her line of sight, confusion clouding his features. "No idea," he mumbled.
Hyeri, ever the curious one, snatched it up. Her eyes scanned the page, and within seconds, her jaw dropped. "KENJI!"
The sharpness of her tone made Nabi chuckle despite her exhaustion, while Kenji looked like a kid who'd been caught red-handed.
"You didn't tell me Vernon was an option!?" Hyeri practically screeched, her energy levels skyrocketing out of nowhere.
Nabi blinked, utterly lost. "Who?"
Before she could piece together Hyeri's sudden burst of enthusiasm, Kenji groaned. "Oh, shit. I forgot to include him. His profile came in last minute, and I didn't have time to add it to the binder or PowerPoint. Guess it fell off the table."
Nabi shook her head in mild disbelief. It was a miracle any of them still had jobs, let alone the nerve to admit these kinds of mistakes so casually. Then again, their friendship had long since blurred the lines of workplace decorum.
Hyeri, meanwhile, was vibrating with excitement. "Nana, please! You have to pick him! He's perfect!" She thrust the paper at Nabi like it was a winning lottery ticket.
Skeptical, Nabi studied the profile. The attached photos were captivating, and as her eyes skimmed the details, something clicked. He fits. For the first time all day, the decision didn't feel forced.
"You know what, Ri? I think he's the one—"
Hyeri's ear-piercing squeal cut her off, drawing a wince from both Nabi and Kenji.
Kenji, ever the pragmatist, grabbed the abandoned binder and stood. "Alright, I'll reach out to his team."
"And I'll set up a meeting with his managers!" Hyeri added, her enthusiasm borderline infectious.
Nabi watched the two dart around the room with something resembling amusement. Hyeri's fangirl energy and Kenji's calm efficiency made for a chaotic but oddly effective duo. She didn't even bother questioning how Hyeri seemed to know Vernon's entire life story—it was just part of the package.
When the two finally left, the office fell into a rare, heavy silence. Nabi sank deeper into the couch, the weight of the day crashing down on her. Outside, the sky had darkened prematurely, leaving only the soft glow of the corner lamp to light the space.
Just as she allowed herself to relax, her phone's shrill ringtone shattered the moment.
"Hello?" she answered, already regretting it.
Her mother's crisp, no-nonsense voice greeted her, managing to sound both cheerful and overbearing. "Hello, Nabi. How are things progressing over there?"
Nabi stifled a groan. "All good," she said curtly, praying that would be enough to end the conversation.
"Wonderful. Your father and I are managing things in New York, but we're expecting sales for this line to exceed last year's. No slacking, Nabi. I mean it."
Nabi bit her tongue, resisting the urge to scream. Of course her mother meant it. She always meant it.
"Of course," she muttered through gritted teeth.
The line went dead with a hum of finality, leaving Nabi alone once again. The quiet was deafening, her thoughts a whirlwind of resentment and exhaustion. Outside, the sounds of the city filtered in—chatter, distant laughter, the faint trill of a bird.
She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, her mind oscillating between everything and nothing. As much as she hated to admit it, Vernon's face lingered in her thoughts. Maybe he wasn't just a random profile. Maybe he was exactly what she needed to make this whole mess bearable.
