Joona meets a cocky exec

Quantum Anchor: Dr. Joana Kekyll (Primary User)
Quantum Target: Joona Kim / Timeline Sub-Variant: Strand-SQ2E
Duration: 17 days remaining
Subject Origin: Alternate-life fork (Not inhabited / No replacement)

The rooftop lounge of the Dahlia Hotel shimmered with curated decadence. Strings of amber lights dangled between metal rafters, casting honey-colored halos over velvet booths and gold-rimmed cocktail tables. A live DJ spun low-key house grooves, each beat sliding over the skyline like a wink. It was the kind of scene designed to feel private, but packed with everyone who wanted to be seen.

Joana, now Joona Kim, stood alone near the edge of the balcony, drink in hand, her silhouette framed by a city pulsing with midnight ambition. Her dress clung to her like warm ink, minimalist, backless, the fabric slipping down her spine and hugging every curve like a secret. Her jet-black wolf-cut fluttered against her jawline as the breeze whispered up from the street.

The room behind her buzzed. Influencers postured by the bar, agents laughed too loudly, and somewhere near the DJ booth, two interns were trying not to gawk at her.

Joona sipped her drink - elderflower gin, kissed with lime - and watched the lights of Manhattan blur across her glass, marveling at the sights, sounds, and sensations of this alternate life.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

The voice arrived smooth as aged scotch. She didn’t turn immediately. She knew that voice. Or at least this alternate identity did.

Grayson Locke.

She gave it a beat, then slowly pivoted. He stood with one hand in his pocket, the other cradling a glass of neat bourbon. Tall, naturally tanned, and built like someone who made a habit of ignoring personal trainers but somehow still looked camera-ready. His navy suit was tailored down to the last arrogant thread. A soft sheen on his Italian loafers. No tie. Just open collar and ego.

He didn’t smile so much as smirk, like he knew she looked, and more importantly, like he expected her to keep looking.

“You’re not exactly a fan of company parties,” he added, lifting his glass in mock salute.

“I came for the playlist,” Joona replied coolly, her eyes gliding over him. “Didn’t realize it came with commentary.”

“Rumor was you were taking some sort of sabbatical.” Interesting bit of continuity, Joana noted mentally.

“Rumor’s mouthy.” She took another sip. “But mostly right. I needed time off.”

Grayson stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he glanced down at her glass. “What brought you back?”

Joona tilted her head. “Let’s just say I had… a breakthrough.”

Grayson chuckled. “New artist?”

“New…reality.”

He paused, as if trying to read her. “Still cryptic as ever.”

“And you,” she said, changing gears, “still trying to make every conversation about how charming you are.”

“It’s not a conversation if it’s true,” he said with that grin.

Joona rolled her eyes, but her smirk betrayed her interest. She turned, leaning back against the railing now, letting the dress fall just right to suggest, never beg.

“So what’s the plan, Locke?” she asked. “You chase me out here for small talk or because you were hoping to impress me with your bourbon?”

He sipped slowly. “Neither. I came to see if the rumors were true.”

Her eyebrow arched.

“They say Joona Kim doesn’t let anyone in twice.”

She laughed. Genuinely. “And that’s the line you went with? God, you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Did it work?”

Joona leaned in, voice smooth. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The silence between them tightened. Joona’s breath slowed, deliberate now, her body angled, her scent threaded with bergamot and heat. She was testing him. Letting him feel the gravity of her.

Grayson held her gaze, just long enough to let the bravado flicker into something more focused.

“I always wondered,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “if it was all posture with you. Or if you really are the girl who calls the shots, makes the rules, and walks away before breakfast.”

“And what if I am?”

He stepped closer. Inches now. His cologne - warm cedar and something expensive - curled with the city air between them.

“Then I’d consider myself lucky to even try.”

Joona studied him.

Grayson Locke was every bit the type this identity used to fall for: tall, smug, successful. A man who liked to win. But now, something inside her tugged in the opposite direction. A quiet itch. A mischievous whisper. Not fear or insecurity, more like… hunger for control.

Still, she played it cool.

She reached forward and tugged gently at his unfastened shirt cuff.

“You talk a good game,” she said. “But the ones who talk the most…”

“Fail the hardest?”

“No. Beg the loudest.”

His breath caught - just for a moment - and Joona smiled like a wolf in silk.

She turned from him then, hips swaying, dress catching every subtle motion as she walked back toward the bar.

When she reached the threshold of the lounge doors, she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Well?” she asked, one brow raised. “Are you coming or not?”

Grayson followed. Not because he thought he was in control, but because somewhere inside, he wanted not to be.