The hum of the servers deepened as the hours passed, a mechanical heartbeat that filled the sterile air of the Parc1 office.
Lines of code reflected across Jin-woo's eyes, shifting with dizzying speed—neural weights, light simulations, and atmospheric projections all feeding into a single core.
The Heart.
But as he stared at the cascading data, something felt off; a jagged edge in the logic that shouldn't be there.
He stopped.
Just for a second, the clicking of his mechanical keyboard ceased, leaving only the roar of the cooling fans.
He turned his chair, his expression unreadable but intense. "Min-jae."
Park Min-jae, who had been hunched over a console reviewing Jeju's terrain data, looked up immediately, sensing the change in the atmosphere.
"Yes, Boss?"
Jin-woo's gaze was sharp now—focused with a surgical precision that usually meant he was about to tear a plan apart.
"We can't rely on satellite data alone for a projection of this magnitude," Jin-woo stated, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone.
A pause followed as the team held their breath.
"The margin of error for the Saebyeol Oreum slope is too high. If we're off by even a fraction, the 'fire' will look like a flat light show instead of a living entity."
Min-jae frowned slightly, tapping his stylus against the desk. "But Boss, we have the latest topographic maps and environmental estimates from the provincial office—"
"It's not enough," Jin-woo interrupted, his voice calm but absolute.
He walked toward the main wall display, his boots echoing on the polished floor, and pulled up a rough 3D model of the volcanic cone.
The digital oreum rotated slowly on the screen, a wireframe ghost of the Jeju landscape.
"The laser projection needs precision down to centimeters," Jin-woo continued, his finger tracing the steep curve of the hill.
"Surface curvature, wind flow, elevation shifts—everything affects how the light bends and disperses against the grass and soil."
The room grew quiet again, the weight of his perfectionism settling over the engineers.
"We need a full on-site laser scan," Jin-woo declared, turning to face them. "A real-time digital twin of the oreum."
Min-jae's eyes widened slightly as he realized the logistical nightmare Jin-woo was suggesting.
"...That means LiDAR mapping, environmental calibration, and hardware placement simulation... all on-site? In less than a week?"
"And validation before deployment," Jin-woo finished, his eyes burning with a cold fire.
A beat of silence followed as the team processed the challenge.
"We only get one chance to test this before the actual event. I won't let the Heart fail because we were too lazy to touch the ground."
Jin-woo turned, already moving toward the door, his mind three steps ahead.
"Prepare the portable scanning rigs and the high-density LiDAR drones. I'll handle the sensor calibration myself once we land."
Min-jae nodded quickly, caught up in the Boss's momentum. "Understood. We'll have the gear packed in two hours."
Jin-woo stepped out of the server room, the biting cold air of the GPU cluster giving way to the warmer, stagnant stillness of the office corridor.
He pulled out his phone, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency. "Han Ji-won."
On the other end, his executive secretary answered on the first ring, her voice as professional as ever.
"Yes, Boss. I was just about to send you the afternoon brief."
"Change of plans, Ji-won. I need the earliest flight to Jeju tomorrow morning," Jin-woo said, walking toward his private office.
A brief pause. "Business class, I assume? I'll check the availability immediately."
"And book additional seats," Jin-woo added, his voice softening just a fraction.
Han Ji-won paused, her sharp mind already cataloging the possibilities. "...Additional seats, Sir?"
"For Hajun."
A brief silence hung on the line. Then, Jin-woo's gaze drifted toward the window, looking past the city and into his own complicated reflections.
"And... my parents."
There was another pause, but this time, there was the faintest hint of warm understanding in Han Ji-won's voice.
"...Of course, Boss. I'll book a family-tier suite at the hotel as well."
"They'll stay with Hajun while I'm on the hillside," Jin-woo added, almost as if justifying the decision to himself. "And I want them to attend the festival. They've had a hard few months."
A small, almost imperceptible shift occurred in his tone—it wasn't just about the responsibility of a CEO anymore. It was about a son and an uncle trying to hold his world together.
"I'll ensure all arrangements are seamless, Sir. You'll have the itinerary within the hour," Ji-won replied.
Jin-woo ended the call and stood there in the silence of his office.
Work. Family. Distance.
He had chosen all three as his armor, yet the heaviness in his chest remained.
At the exact same time, away in the Gleam Tower, Eun-soo zipped her suitcase shut with a sharp click.
Her reflection stared back at her from the full-length mirror—she looked calm, composed, and utterly unreadable in her coat.
But her phone, still resting on the marble vanity, felt heavier than it should, as if the unsaid words between her and the man on the 35th floor were pulling at her.
Without realizing it, they had both made the exact same decision.
To leave the city behind. To run toward the wind and the fire.
Distance was supposed to make things simpler, but as they both prepared to fly south, the threads of fate were only becoming more tangled.