Chapter 178: Chapter 178: Runway Fever
The city’s pulse hamred through the glass walls of COEX, the giant convention center pulsing with banners and cara flashes, velvet ropes snaking in precise lines beneath crystalline chandeliers. By afternoon, the red carpet was alive—paparazzi pressed against barricades, influencers striking practiced poses, models in cloudlike dresses catching every flash. Inside, a ripple of excitent moved through the crowd as Yura stepped out of her car, her silhouette a work of art, custom Lumina dress shimring with hundreds of hand-set crystals. A small army of journalists angled mics toward her, firing questions about Lumina’s vision, her recent divorce, the international brands attending. Yura t every question with a regal smile, turning aside the more personal queries with wit, every word effortlessly deflecting the hint of scandal, every sidelong glance from ambitious n shut down with the arch of a brow.
Further down the carpet, Harin ushered a wave of dia into the hall, making sure VIP guests were greeted and directed to their section. Baek Ji-hwan’s na echoed through a knot of older executives and foreign investors, but it was LUNE and Lumina on everyone’s lips tonight. Rumor and admiration ran hand in hand. "You heard Mirae’s walking with Joon-ho, right? They say he’s the wildcard." "And did you see Min-Kyung’s new line? She’s pushing past every expectation."
Inside the VIP lounge, Champagne sparkled in fluted glasses. Brand ambassadors from Milan and New York exchanged cards and complints, toasting the ’Korean wave’ with well-practiced grins. Top stylists and creative directors prowled the room, already assessing who might be signed for next season, eyes flicking to Yura as she drifted through with practiced grace, pausing to talk business with an Italian accessories mogul, then politely brushing off a French perfu scion’s "late dinner" invitation with a frosty smile. Even so, the room buzzed with the sense that tonight wasn’t just another industry mixer: it was a proving ground, and Lumina and LUNE were the ga to beat.
Backstage, it was chaos on fast-forward. Models darted in every direction, half-dressed or swaddled in silky robes, make-up artists barking for more brushes, assistants ferrying racks of dresses down snaking corridors. Min-Kyung, lips pursed, stalked from station to station, inspecting seams, yanking pins from her wrist, retying sashes. Every so often she’d pause to check Mirae’s fitting, or lean in with a whisper—"Relax your shoulders, you’re perfect"—before turning on her heel to check the next model.
In the LUNE waiting room, Mirae perched on a high stool in a gauzy slip, eyes closed as Min-Kyung’s lead artist dusted highlighter along her cheekbones. Alina sat cross-legged in front of a mirror, humming to herself, while Yumi and Natty took selfies, the chaos outside a distant roar. The influencers arrived in a whirl—Min-ji with a Parisian bob and wild energy, Rika all streetwear edge and confident swagger, Bee with her phone already live, narrating everything for thousands of viewers. Hye-jin t them at the door, her clipboard as much a shield as a tool.
"Rules are simple," she said, ticking down a list. "No filming outside your designated corners, no accidental peeks at changing models, and if anyone asks you to stop, you stop. You’re guests, but you’re also on trial. LUNE’s reputation is your reputation tonight."
Min-ji grinned. "We’re not here to start a scandal. Promise." Her phone was already trained on Bee, who spun in a slow circle, gushing about the "insane" backstage energy, the racks of shimring dresses, the bowls of designer macarons on the snack table. Rika adjusted her oversized jacket, checking herself in the mirror, then glancing at Min-Kyung’s na on the garnt rack. She kept her smile cool, calculating.
The livestream feeds exploded. Chats scrolled by at dizzying speed: Where’s Joon-ho?Show us Mirae!Is Min-Kyung in the room?Unholynuna, we see you! The influencers laughed, reading comnts aloud, offering behind-the-scenes comntary as junior makeup artists descended to start their touch-ups—Bee’s followers especially eager for a glimpse of the famous "K-beauty" treatnt.
Mirae waved at the caras, then leaned into Min-Kyung’s hands as the final pins went into her gown. "First ti I’ve had this many people watching
before the show even starts," she whispered, nerves coiled tight in her belly.
Joon-ho appeared in the doorway, broad-shouldered and relaxed in a white, form-fitting shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He carried a tray of iced coffees, grinning. "Delivery for the hardest workers in the building."
The influencers’ livestreams lit up like fireworks—Min-ji and Rika, who just minutes before had seed all nerves and practiced confidence, suddenly squealed like teenagers at a K-pop concert as Joon-ho appeared. Their hands shook a little as they angled their phones for the best angle, cheeks coloring, eyes shining with the thrill of broadcasting the mont live. Bee couldn’t stop giggling, nearly dropping her phone as her comnt feed exploded in a blur of oppa oppa oppa and heart emojis, half in Korean, half in English and Thai. The chat was pure chaos:
Is this real? Omg he’s so handsoPrince Joon-ho delivering coffee like a boyfriend!Protect him at all costs!Unholynuna we see you!Can he say hi to my mom??
Joon-ho moved through the little crowd with an ease that made it all look unrehearsed—handing Bee her iced Aricano with a teasing, "Try not to spill it on your dress," then passing a cup to Min-ji, who bit her lip and whispered, "Thank you, oppa!" loud enough for her viewers to hear. Rika, always trying to play it cool, couldn’t hide her smile as she accepted hers, fingers brushing his and drawing a fresh avalanche of shrieking in her chat.
He paused, grinned, and raised his coffee to the caras. "Hope everyone’s cheering for Fashion Week—and especially these girls. They’re making all this chaos look easy." It was nothing, just a line, but on cara it was charisma turned to eleven. The livestreams caught it from three angles; instantly, the clips shot across fan pages, Discord servers, and K-culture blogs.
Before anyone could blink, Bee was yanking him fully into fra for a group selfie, her arm draped over his shoulders like they’d been friends for years. The other two crowded in, giggling, all four faces filling the phone screens of ten thousand fans in real ti. Min-ji, caught up in the madness, shouted, "Say fighting!" and they did, the room echoing with laughter and the whirr of screenshot notifications.
Mirae, who had been watching with her own amused smile, mock-scolded him as soon as Bee let him go. "Careful, you’ll turn into an idol at this rate. You’ll have fan sites tracking your every move—and good luck escaping that."
"Let them try," Joon-ho shot back with a smirk, but as he glanced at his own phone the bravado cracked for a second. Notifications were rolling in faster than even he could swipe away. The Coffee Prince fan page was absolutely blowing up, the chat a riot of praise, s, and rival claims over who had been the real first fan.
Even @unholynuna herself—fabled admin, queen of snark, infamous for dragging fake fans and idol scandals—had broken her usual ice-queen detachnt to post a screenshot of the livestream:’OUR PRINCE IS REAL. HE’S GONE CORPORATE. STAY TUNED.’
The caption was imdiately followed by a comnt thread so long and feral it crashed the app for a few unlucky fans.
Across the room, the junior makeup artists and a couple of models peeked in, curious about the commotion. Even Min-Kyung, mid-adjustnt on a bodice, smirked and called out, "Looks like you’re more popular than the clothes, Joon-ho. Should we put your face on the next dress?"
The laughter and chaos had a ripple effect. In that tight circle—models, influencers, artists, and an accidental prince—sothing electric buzzed, a sense that tonight, every cara was on them, and there was no going back.
anwhile, Rika’s eyes darted to Rina—LUNE’s established runway star—who was being fussed over by Min-Kyung and the senior stylists. Rika leaned toward her phone, voice sly for her followers: "So people always get VIP treatnt, huh?"
Rina ignored her, focusing on the dress adjustnts, but Mirae caught the shift, stepping over. "Everyone here earned their spot, Rika. Maybe you’ll get your own if you’re lucky."
Rika just flashed a tight smile and moved on, but her chat caught fire—#RikaVsRina started trending within minutes. Bee, ever the peacemaker, tried to deflect with jokes about "model drama" being part of the real runway experience, but the tension crackled beneath the laughter.
As the show ti drew near, Min-Kyung gathered everyone for a quick lineup. "This is it—no nerves, just shine. Models, you’re up in twenty. Influencers, you’ve got your zones, and rember: eyes up, smiles on. You’re here to amplify the brand, not distract it."
Yura swept in, every inch the queen in a second Lumina masterpiece. She delivered her pep talk with a razor smile. "LUNE is on this stage because we belong here. Own your walk, your voice, your image. Tonight, you’re not just beautiful—you’re essential."
Bee led a chorus of "fighting!" for the caras, snapping a group selfie that went viral before the first model even stepped on stage. Alina grabbed Mirae’s hand, squeezing tight; Yumi and Natty did a quick, nervous dance; Min-ji and Rika compared lip glosses for their feeds, phones always at the ready.
Outside, the audience packed in, the air vibrating with anticipation. The MC’s voice bood across the hall, the first notes of the opening track thrumd through the speakers. The influencers’ numbers spiked—tens of thousands watching live, hashtags piling up in real ti. Yura watched from the wings, arms crossed, pride and nerves flickering in her eyes.
As the house lights dropped, the models surged toward the curtain—Joon-ho in the lead, Mirae at his side, the LUNE contingent glittering beneath the stage lights, influencers capturing every heartbeat, every look, every sparkling dress. In that mont, with the whole world watching, it felt like everything was about to change.
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