24H | SEVENTEEN

८७

Gu Hwa glanced around the meeting room before nodding to himself. "So shall we began Gu Hwa glanced around the meeting room, taking in the sleek table, the tightly drawn blinds, and the expectant silence that had settled over the space. He nodded to himself with a sense of finality. "So, shall we begin?" he said, his voice calm but firm, slicing clean through the stillness. A few shuffled their papers. A few adjusted their seats. But all eyes were on him now.

Gu Hwa clasped his hands on the table, fingers interlaced. "As of this morning, the company is  resuming the group's activities. The media is on standby, the sponsors are nervous, and the company is rushing to bring out the boys as soon as possible." A murmur rippled across the table, but no one dared to interrupt. "We don't have the luxury of easing back in," he continued. "We need full and controlled visibility over their every schedule. Interviews, performances, and their personal meetings. We need it all."

Someone to his right, cleared his throat. "What about security protocols? The last attack-"

"Has been handled," Gu Hwa said coolly, cutting him off. "We'll be bringing in private consultants. They will be shadowing each member, surveillance at every venue, and full background checks on all incoming staff and crew." He paused, letting the weight of that sink in. "We're not leaving room for mistakes," he added, eyes scanning each face. "If there's even a whisper of something off—anything—I want it reported immediately. No assumptions. No delays." His gaze swept across the room like a spotlight, sharp and unrelenting. Then it stopped-on her.

Rumi sat at the far end of the table, fingers casually scrolling her phone like she was checking the weather and not sitting in a high-stakes crisis meeting. Gu Hwa's jaw flexed. "I need coordination. No acting on your own." Rumi didn't look up. "Noted," she said lightly, thumbs still tapping.

The room went still.

Gu Hwa exhaled slowly through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching with restrained irritation. "Do I need to confiscate that?" Rumi finally looked up, her expression unreadable except for the faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You could try." A few people shifted awkwardly in their seats, unsure whether to sit or run. Gu Hwa stared at her a moment longer before turning back to the others. "Everyone else—dismissed. Rumi, stay." Chairs scraped. Staffers filed out quickly, eager to escape the growing friction in the air.

"What are you planning?" He didn't waste time on bull went straight to the point. Rumi raised her eyebrow at that, lounging back slightly in her chair like she had all the time in the world. "You're going to have to be more specific, Captain. I plan a lot of things." Gu Hwa didn't flinch. "Don't play games with me. I know you very well." He stepped closer, bracing his hands on the table and leaning in just enough to make his point. "I know how that mind of yours work Rumi. You know how to get things done but now-you're dangerous when you go off-script. And right now, we can't afford any more surprises."

"I've been always off-script Gu Hwa." Rumi snorted meeting his gaze, unblinking. "And what if the surprises are already here? How about going off-script to find who's really pulling the strings?" She titled her head, calm but challenging. A long, heavy silence settled between them—thick with everything neither dared to say aloud.

"Just tell me you're not dragging the boys into whatever it is you're doing," he said at last, quieter but no less pointed. Rumi scoffed. "I thought you knew me better than that, Gu Hwa." Her voice dipped into something darker, steel wrapped in silk. "I'll protect them in ways your precious 'protocols' never could." He didn't answer. He didn't need to. She stood up, with a final glance she left the room, the tension still crackling in the room behind her.

Noonim, he's there.

Goes in around 10. Outs for lunch, returns to company and then leaves in evening around six. Do you want me to follow after evening?