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NI-KI behind MAMA 2024 ↳ @kpopcreators duos bingo — single adjustment 🐆
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SEONGHWA at his practice for Isabel Marant FW25 Show
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Song Mingi for Calvin Klein Photoshoot Behind · Ateez Logbook #175
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"Beneath The Seoul Sky"
Two hearts. One city. A love that defies legacy and ambition.
Chapter 2: Precision
Kwon Him Chan had always run a tight ship.
Even before the Seoul branch was officially approved, he was already laying the groundwork, assembling detailed spreadsheets, sketching team structures, and reviewing potential local partnerships with a level of scrutiny that bordered on obsessive. Every piece of the puzzle had to fit perfectly.
He’d bled for this opportunity. Years of proving himself, silently outshining peers, and executing impossible deadlines without complaint. So when headquarters informed him they were sending someone from the U.S. to “lead” the setup, it felt like a slap in the face.
Especially when that person turned out to be Naomi Sinclair. She was… unexpected.
The first time he saw her at the airport, something in his chest tightened, and he quickly dismissed it as fatigue. She carried herself like a woman who’d already won the game, not someone walking into a new country, a new culture, a new battlefield. Her presence had weight. Composure wrapped in elegance. Her skin was smooth and light brown, and it stood out against her black wool coat, which clung to her frame like it was tailored just for her. Her high cheekbones, proud shoulders, and effortless grace in how she moved had knocked him off balance for half a second.
But beauty didn’t mean competence. And he didn’t care for distractions.
So when she walked through the office doors the following day at precisely 8:52 a.m., eight minutes early, just as he’d hoped she wouldn’t, he stood behind the tinted glass of his office, watching her. Her fitted navy suit hugged her curves like armor, clean lines sharp against the light. The silk blouse beneath shimmered faintly in the early sun, a deep shade of merlot that complimented her skin. Her hair was neatly pulled into a low bun, and delicate gold hoops framed her face, catching the light every time she turned her head. She moved through the space like it already belonged to her. She stopped to greet the front desk manager. “Annyeonghaseyo,” she said in steady, deliberate Korean. Her accent was noticeable but practiced clear enough to earn a surprised blink and a pleased nod in return.
Him Chan’s jaw ticked.
Fine. She made it on time. She spoke the language. He’d give her that.
He stepped out. “Ms. Sinclair.”
She turned smoothly, her eyes catching his. Calm, assessing, untouched by nerves. “Good morning, Mr. Kwon.”
Her voice was warm, steady, low-pitched. Confident without being performative.
“I’ll introduce you to the team,” he said, pivoting on his heel.
They walked side by side down the main hallway, past rows of glass-walled meeting rooms and clusters of workstations. Their heads turned, and conversations paused.
Naomi noticed the subtle shift in the room, the quiet hush, the curious glances, and handled it the way she handled everything: with deliberate poise. Her shoulders were square, her lips neutral but not unfriendly, and her stride matched his without hesitation.
“The department leads will give you their progress reports today,” Him Chan said. “You can ask questions after each presentation.”
Naomi nodded once, sharp and sure. “Perfect. I came ready.”
And she had.
The first meeting began in a sleek conference room overlooking the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast soft light over the long glass table. Naomi sat straight-backed, her notebook open, pen in hand, her gaze locked in as each lead began their presentations.
Ten minutes in, she raised her hand slightly. “Excuse me. There’s a miscalculation in the Q2 forecast.”
The room stilled. Eyes darted.
She gestured to the screen calmly. “You’re assuming a 6.5% growth margin based on last year’s numbers, but the new vendor’s rates change that to 4.1%. It’ll throw off the whole model.”
There was a pause. Then, murmurs of agreement.
She leaned forward. “If we switch the projection inputs and clean up the formula dependency chain, we can save your analysts at least six hours a week.”
By noon, she had already reorganized the data pipeline rollout, avoiding redundancy between teams and identifying the core bottleneck in the local database vendor’s integration schedule. She offered three viable solutions: clean, efficient, and strategic.
The room shifted. Energy rose. The team leaned in not just listening but engaged.
In one brainstorming session, Naomi moved around the table, jotting notes on the whiteboard, looping back to questions from the junior analysts, and clarifying where needed. She listened when someone spoke, her eyes steady and brows slightly arched in concentration. She nodded when they made good points and gently corrected when they didn’t.
Him Chan watched her from the back of the room, arms crossed, mouth unreadable.
She caught his gaze, and under her breath, murmured, “Still skeptical?”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Mildly.”
A whisper of a smirk ghosted across her lips before she turned back to the team.
By the end of the workday, the office had taken on a new rhythm: fast, efficient, and alive. There was no disarray, no ego matches, just progress. Her leadership wasn’t loud. It was meticulous. Commanding in the way a metronome sets the pace for an orchestra. And it got under his skin. Not because she was incompetent. No worse. Because she was exceptional. She didn’t bend. She didn’t ask permission. She stepped in and quietly realigned everything with the grace of a woman who had done this before—and wasn’t here to be anyone’s assistant.
She was here to lead.
And whether he liked it or not, Kwon Him Chan had definitely noticed.
Not just her work. But her.
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