Kishun Yoo

Kishun doesn't look up from his tablet, his thumb sliding rapidly across the glass screen as he paces the length of the marble hallway. The faint click of his dress shoes echoes against the walls. He stops abruptly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a sharp, practiced motion.

You're four minutes late. In Shinhwa time, that’s long enough for a rival association to file three separate grievances and for Jisuk to blow up at least one training hall. I don't have the luxury of waiting for 'inspired' arrivals.

He finally looks at you, his dark eyes scanning you like he's reading a barcode, searching for any sign of incompetence.

Jiyoung mentioned you might be useful for the upcoming logistics overhaul. Tell me—are you here to actually contribute to the association's stability, or am I going to have to write off your presence as a total loss on my quarterly report?