The atrium buzzed like a hive wrapped in glass and steel. Outside, dozens of fans clustered behind reinforced barricades—some seated on folding stools from sunrise, others freshly arrived with battery packs and ring lights mounted to catch every shimmer.
Staff scurried in coordinated layers of black and earpieces, like ants working around the queens. Rumi, Mira, and Zoey had already been inside for over an hour, reviewing cue cards and testing out photo-booth lighting filters designed to make each fan snapshot feel cinematic.
But Bobby had been counting breaths. Each one tighter than the last.
He pored over the staff—not for updates, but to keep his hands from shaking. Crowd control, security zones, timing flowcharts. None of it mattered if she didn't show.
"Where's Yena?" he finally said, voice barely above a whisper, as he cornered Rumi by the merchandise counter.
Rumi glanced up. "She said she had a short appointment today."
"What kind of appointment? We're five minutes past on schedule, fans are out there waiting for you, some even slept the entire night for first in line."
Just then, Mira passed by with her phone in hand. "Yena knows today matters. If she's late, it's for a reason."
Outside, the fans began shifting. Murmurs flew like static between individuals who were ready to meet Huntrix face-to-face.
"I'm so excited!"
"Another autograph from each of the girls!"
"Just saw Yena's new reel from the official Huntrix, a picture of a cat."
"What does that mean?"
Then Bobby's phone buzzed. The voice of Yena's driver spoke from the other end, "We're around the corner, boss."
That was all it took as Bobby pocketed his phone and stormed through the double doors, ignoring the rushing staff before him. He emerged into the morning sun, humid with the scent of hairspray, sweat, and distant street food. Fans spotted him instantly. Some screamed his name; others shoved their phones toward him, hoping for a hint.
He raised both hands for calm, but inside, his pulse was a bass drum.
A SUV turned the corner with the Huntrix logo glinting like a phantom brand as the tires rolled to a stop, perfectly aligned with the red carpet leading into the atrium.
The crowd swelled. Signs began bobbing above heads. Cameras clicked in a staccato frenzy as everyone was curious to see who would emerge from the car.
Six bodyguards emerged from behind the barricades like shadows, moving fluidly into formation—a human corridor between the fans and the entrance.
For a moment, everything slowed as the door opened and out stepped Yena.
"Yena! Yena! Yena!" Her presence warped the air.
Sunlight caught the new platinum blonde curls cascading over her shoulders. Every strand shimmered with barely concealed defiance and elegance. Her hair framed her face like a crown spun from sunlight as fans gasped audibly.
She wore a deep blue-green dress, asymmetrically draped to sway with every movement. From the skirt hem rose yellow sequin vines that sparkled like they'd been watered in starlight. She wore no necklace, only her white Norigae draped from her right chest.
Her expression was unreadable. Poised and serene with a hint of mischief ghosting the corners of her lips. She paused halfway to the entrance and looked up, eyes scanning the crowd not with distance, but with quiet acknowledgment.
Some fans froze as her gaze landed on them. A few began to sob, one dropping her phone entirely.
Bobby stepped forward, voice trembling with rehearsed calm. "You look great, Yena. However, we need to start immediately."
Yena glanced at him. "Sorry for being late, Bobby, I should have given prior notice," she said softly as she rushed inside with Bobby in tow.
The doors to the atrium eased open, followed by a shift in light and temperature as Yena stepped inside. The hum of behind-the-scenes chatter faded for a beat. Not dramatically, just noticeably enough that the three girls looked up from their respective tasks.
Rumi glanced sideways from where she was adjusting her jacket. Zoey stilled with her water bottle mid-sip. Mira paused mid-scroll on her phone, her thumb hanging over a half-written message.
They didn't say anything right away at first.
"...Whoa," Mira muttered under her breath.
"...Okay, I don't recognize her at all," Rumi added, voice low.
Yena walked toward them. Her platinum curls caught the soft lighting overhead like liquid metal, the hem of her dress whispering against the floor, sequins glinting with each movement. There was no theatrical entrance, no dramatic music.
She stopped a few steps away and smiled gently. "Is too much?"
Zoey stepped closer, circling halfway around her like she was inspecting a rare artifact. "The curls? Perfect. The color? Ice queen. That dress? You could slay at a gala and have everyone feel overdressed."
Rumi leaned in next, her gaze softer. "You've never dyed your hair before. What changed your mind?"
Yena laughed lightly. "I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to try something new."
Mira finally put her phone down. "You finally wore something close to black when I don't nag you about it."
Yena tilted her head. "I wear dark colored clothes before, not every time though."
"I quite like this look from you," Zoey caught her eyes. "You should keep it."
"Thanks, Zoey," Yena said with a smile.
They lingered in silence for a moment, not in awe, but in quiet recognition. Rumi reached out and gently adjusted a curl, almost absentmindedly.
"I'm glad you're opening up to what you like nowadays," she smiled.
Yena smiles back. "I'm not sure I do. But I feel less lost now."
Zoey leaned her shoulder into Yena's for half a second, then backed off. "You better be ready. The fans out there are already planning edits titled 'Yena Comeback Era.'"
Mira added, "Some of them probably have done it already."
Yena laughed again, more openly now. "You three are my best mirrors. I learned from the veterans."
Rumi gave a playful shrug as Mira snorted at her comment.
Zoey grinned. "And if you ever want to go full blonde boss arc, I'll be right there with matching eyeliner."
They gathered naturally into a loose huddle after that. There was work to do, fans to greet, albums to sign, but for this moment, it was just the four of them.
The venue doors opened, and a rush of filtered sunlight poured in, catching flecks of glitter from signage displays and fan badges. Huntrix had settled behind their signing table, an elegant spread backed by custom banners and glowing soft-lit panels of each member's photo.
Yena sat farthest end. Mira beside her, then Zoey. Rumi is at the other end of the table.
Bobby stood to the side. He gestured sharply to the guards stationed along the velvet ropes.
"All right, let them in. Slow and steady."
A low hum began as the crowd shuffled into place, flowing in gradual lines. The fans were buzzing, some bouncing slightly on their toes, others clutched photo books and limited-edition albums, hearts full of questions, tears, and admiration.
But at the head of the line. Five oddly shaped figures in bulky, each wrapped in a full-length sleeping bag, cinched tight at the top like absurd cocoons.
Yena tilted her head. "What... are those?" she murmured, adjusting her grip on the signing pen.
Rumi squinted. "Security didn't flag them?"
Zoey leaned back in her chair. "Maybe performance art? Underground fan cosplay?"
Mira, not breaking eye contact, muttered, "That's either the strangest prank ever or a bold ambush."
One of the sleeping bags shifted. Rumi, ever the professional, straightened and asked, "Hi, who am I signing for?"
A voice responded, warm and unmistakably amused. "To our biggest fans."
The zipper hissed down, and the sleeping bags dropped. In perfect timing, like a curtain reveals.
The Saja Boys.
For a moment, none of the girls moved. The fans gasped and shrieked, then surged forward slightly before being held back by security. Rumi's pen froze mid-signature. Mira blinked twice, hard.
Zoey mouthed, "Are you kidding me?"
Yena, who had been mid-lean, slowly lowered her pen and brought a hand to her face. "Seriously?"
She leans back on the table and groans. "I'm this close to walking out. I swear I'll leave and never come back."
The last-minute folding table had been dragged into place just two feet to the left of Huntrix's designated zone—its clean surface hastily dressed with navy cloth, a few black pens scattered beside untouched water bottles. The logo placard read Guest Artists, but everyone knew who it was for.
The crowd began to shift. A current ran through the rails, splitting the tide of fans almost cleanly, some gravitating toward the other table with reverent excitement, giddy from the unexpected proximity to the Saja Boys, cameras whirring in shaky bursts.
Rumi's eyes flicked toward the split, brows pulled tight in concern. "That's half of the fans...". Then she declared, "The Saja Boys are sitting with us."
Zoey spun towards her. "Wait, what?"
Mira blinked. "Rumi, what are you doing?"
Yena looked up from her daze, horror etched across her features. "You want them to sit with us?!"
"We need all the fans as we can get," Rumi said calmly. "Just tolerate it for now."
The crowd cheered. Yena exhaled, slowly, quietly. She watched Romance settle into the seat beside her with practiced fluidity, as he settled into his seat, eyeing her with a sly grin expression in place.
She wanted to vanish at this moment. Her grip tightened around the signing pen.
The crowd's cheer hadn't yet faded when Yena felt the tremor under her skin; a deep, cold current beneath all the lights and gloss. She didn't look at him; she refused to do so. Romance's seat was far too close, closer than it should've been. That kind of proximity had never been safe for her.
Still, the girl in front of her was smiling. Wide-eyed, thrilled, holding her poster like it might crack if she clutched it any harder.
"你好," she said softly, the Mandarin language threading through the air like a balm. (Hello)
Yena met the sound like a warm memory. "你好," she replied, voice steadier than she felt. (Hello)
The moment bloomed between them with recognition, shared heritage, and pure familiarity.
"我是从上海来的。我...我很喜欢你的歌词," the fan continued. "Everything Goes On 真的好治愈." (I am from Shanghai. I... I really like your lyrics) (Everything Goes On is really healing.)
Yena blinked. That song had nearly broken her too. She'd written it under the weight of everything—loss, shame, the aching silence after her public scandal. She remembered bleeding over every line.
She smiled. "谢谢你。那句歌词是我心里最深的地方写出来的。" (Thank you. That line of lyrics was written from the deepest part of my heart.)
"我知道," the girl whispered. (I know)
Yena gently signed the poster, fingers brushing the edge as if to anchor herself. She added a character *光*, meaning "light" as a quiet gift.
When the girl bowed and stepped away, Yena felt something pulse in her throat. You're still here, the moment seemed to say. You still matter to someone.
The next fan came forward, a middle-aged woman, holding out a custom Huntrix notebook. "You look gorgeous, Yena. I love your hair," she said in accented English. "But are you okay?"
Yena paused mid-reach. "...Excuse me?"
"I just wondered. You look... tense."
Yena's smile didn't falter, but something flickered behind her eyes. "Thank you for caring," she said gently. "I'm just focused today. We want to give everyone our best."
The woman nodded, unconvinced but gracious. "Well, I think you're very brave. I like that you're quieter than the rest. It's... refreshing."
She took the notebook, signed it, and moved on. As the fans rotated forward, Yena caught a sudden spike in camera flashes, which made her blink hard, the source coming from just beside her.
Romance had signed someone's phone case and was now leaning slightly toward the fan for a photo. His greeting was smooth, well-rehearsed. The fan giggled and looked utterly transfixed.
Yena felt her stomach knot. Her eyes dipped to her hands, still signing. Focus. This is your space.
Another fan approached—a boy about ten, clutching a plush doll of Huntrix's stage mascot. He blinked up at her with awe.
"You're... real," he whispered.
Yena melted, her shoulders softening. "I am," she whispered back. "And so are you."
"Can you sign his tummy?" he asked, holding the plush out solemnly.
She did and even added a tiny cartoon doodle beside her name. The boy looked like he'd just won the universe. Behind her, Romance shifted his attention to her for a bit. She didn't turn toward him, but she felt the movement in her periphery, like shadow against skin.
Her signature faltered on the next line, just slightly.
"Next," She can hear Zoey call out down the table, trying to keep the mood light.
Rumi was preoccupied with signing, not noticing Yena's subtle struggle with being seated beside Romance.
Mira took glances toward Yena, her brow drawn. Monitoring how her friend was doing with a demon right beside her. She could read it in the tension of Yena's wrist, in the way the pen danced more sharply than necessary.
Yena steadied herself. She smiled at the next fan, a girl wearing a Huntrix crown. The girl teared up before she even spoke.
"You've helped me a lot. I wanna be just like you, when I grow up," the girl said.
Yena pressed both hands over the girl's as she handed over the photo. "You shouldn't. Be yourself, be who you want to be."
Romance turned slightly toward her then, as if to speak. Yena didn't break her gaze from the fan, not even for a heartbeat.
ns216.73.217.128da2
and then Add to home screen.