Chapter 164: Chapter 164: Fitting

The fourth morning before Seoul Fashion Week found Lumina’s borrowed meeting room thick with anticipation and half-finished cups of coffee. Garment bags hung everywhere, racks lining one wall and Min-Kyung’s design sketches scattered between laptops, fabric swatches, and half-eaten pastries. Sunlight bounced off glass towers outside, but inside was a creative, intimate chaos.

Min-Kyung was the first to break through the mess, carrying an armful of dresses across the street from her boutique, her tape measure around her neck like a stethoscope. She called out to Mirae as she entered, her voice warm but brisk. "Come on, superstar, let’s see if freedom made you any taller."

Mirae set down her coffee and joined Min-Kyung by the window, trying to mask her nerves behind a faint smile. "You know my size hasn’t changed since high school. You just want an excuse to get your hands on me."

Min-Kyung smirked, flicking her eyes over Mirae’s body, tape measure snapping around her waist. "Please. You think I haven’t noticed your ass getting rounder since you stopped starving yourself for EON?"

Mirae huffed, but there was relief in her laughter. The tension in her shoulders melted a notch as Min-Kyung worked, calling out numbers, jotting notes. "All the more reason to fit you myself. I want the main dress perfect for your first real debut."

Harin, sharp in a tailored jacket, hovered at the periphery, reviewing a color palette on her tablet. "If you need privacy, next room is blacked out. No one can see in, not even paparazzi."

Mirae hesitated, glancing at the door. "Joon-ho’s working in there. Should I wait?"

Min-Kyung rolled her eyes, voice rising so everyone heard: "What, you think he hasn’t already seen you naked? Just go! We don’t have all day. The main fitting is now or never."

A flush crept up Mirae’s cheeks. "It’s different. This is work—"

Harin interjected, not looking up from her screen, "You’re a professional. He’s a professional. Get changed."

Min-Kyung, not above a little mischief, nudged Mirae toward the door with the dress in hand. "We’re on a schedule, superstar. Unless you want me to strip you right here."

Defeated, Mirae ducked into the side office. Joon-ho sat at the desk, half-focused on his phone, half-glancing at documents open on his laptop. The city spread behind him, a moving backdrop of late-morning traffic.

He looked up as Mirae slipped in, closing the door behind her. "Need something?" His voice was warm, gentle—familiar in a way that somehow made her more nervous.

"Min-Kyung and Harin sent me in to change. Apparently, I’ve lost my right to privacy," she muttered, half-joking, half-serious.

Joon-ho stood, stretching, his gaze never straying far from her face. "You want help?"

Mirae paused, heart thumping, then nodded. "Just the zipper," she said, though she knew what she meant. Her hands shook as she began to unbutton her blouse, slipping it off and laying it on the chair. Underneath, she wore a soft, pale blue bra—lace, something pretty she’d never have dared at EON.

Joon-ho stepped closer, his hands steady. "Let me." He brushed her hair aside, slowly undoing the clasp. The moment he slid the straps down, goosebumps prickled along her arms. She was suddenly aware of her own scent, the heat pooling between her legs, the blush climbing up her throat. She tried to cover herself, but he caught her wrists, kissing her shoulder.

"Beautiful," he whispered, helping her into the dress. His fingers traced the zipper up her back, knuckles grazing bare skin. Mirae closed her eyes, swallowing a whimper, painfully aware of how wet she was, her panties sticky against her thighs.

As he finished, the door burst open. Yura swept in, every inch the unnie—the big sister, the one they all looked to, the oldest and sharpest among them. She whistled, eyeing Mirae’s flushed face and Joon-ho’s too-casual distance.

"Trying to give us a show, Mirae?" Yura teased, propping one hip against the desk. "If you two want to keep playing dress-up, do it tonight—not in my office."

Min-Kyung and Harin followed right behind, Min-Kyung with her tablet and pins, Harin with her signature cool. Min-Kyung wasted no time, running practiced hands over the seams of the dress, checking the fit at hips and bust, tugging here and smoothing there.

"Good. Almost perfect." She turned to Mirae, a rare softness in her eyes. "You look like a model now. Not a prop."

Yura and Harin settled at the table, pulling out files and tablets. Yura’s exhaustion was clear in the pinch around her eyes, the way she cradled her coffee mug with both hands, but her voice was crisp as ever. "We’ve got the photoshoot for Seoul Fashion Week promo tomorrow. Brands and models are arriving by the hour. We need to announce the lineup, both for Fashion Week and LUNE’s launch. Everything rides on these next forty-eight hours."

Joon-ho, all business now, nodded. "I’ll follow the plan. Just tell me where you need me."

Harin ticked off tasks, her voice cool and precise: "Min-Kyung, fitting schedule. Mirae, you and Joon-ho are main models, so be ready for interviews and behind-the-scenes coverage. Media team will be filming. Yura and I will handle press releases and make sure SNS is in sync. Min-Kyung, work with Lumina’s designers on any last-minute adjustments."

Min-Kyung squeezed Mirae’s shoulder. "You can relax now. I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to you on the runway."

Mirae let herself exhale, nerves giving way to a wild, fragile excitement. She took her place at the table, next to Min-Kyung, across from Joon-ho. For the first time since her debut, she felt seen—not as a commodity, but as a person.

Yura looked around at the group, letting her gaze linger on each of them. The room quieted, everyone sensing the fatigue in their oldest unnie, the way she was holding herself together. For a moment, she looked like she might say something more, but instead she just smiled, soft and real.

"Let’s make this count," she said quietly.

As the meeting broke up, Joon-ho caught Yura’s arm, lowering her voice. "Yura, we should talk. About your divorce. You don’t have to carry this alone."

Yura gave her a tired, grateful nod, squeezing Joon-ho’s hand. "Later. I promise."

The others drifted out, Min-Kyung carrying her rack of dresses, Mirae trailing behind with a new lightness in her step. Harin lingered a moment, watching Joon-ho and Yura.

As the last echoes of footsteps faded and the girls dispersed, Yura lingered at the meeting table, her hands absently smoothing press kits and invitation cards that didn’t really need organizing. Joon-ho lingered too, pausing in the open doorway. He watched her for a moment, quietly reading the slump of her shoulders and the brittle energy she tried to hide.

He closed the door softly behind him, shutting out the faint bustle of the hallway. "Yura," he said gently, "you don’t have to clean up. Let the interns earn their keep for once."

Yura gave a tired snort and slumped into one of the chairs, cradling her coffee with both hands. "If I don’t keep moving, I’ll start thinking," she murmured, half a laugh but heavy underneath. "And if I start thinking, I’ll just get pissed off."

Joon-ho settled in the chair across from her. "You’re allowed to be pissed off, Yura. Honestly, with everything you’re juggling, I don’t know how you haven’t set something on fire yet."

Yura shot him a sidelong look, a small smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. "Maybe you’ll get lucky and I’ll torch the office on your big debut."

"Do it after Fashion Week. At least let us have one clean PR cycle," he teased back, and for a moment, the air between them lightened.

Yura went quiet again, staring at the swirl of her coffee. "You know, it’s funny. Everyone keeps calling me unnie like it means I have everything figured out. I’m the oldest, so I have to hold it all together. But the truth is... this divorce, the company, keeping up the front for the girls—I’m exhausted, Joon-ho. Some days I feel ancient. Like the world’s moved on and I’m just clinging to what’s left."

He reached across, covering her hand with his. "Hey. No one expects you to carry it all. Not here. Not anymore." He squeezed her fingers, warm and grounding. "You built so much for Mirae, for all of them. You did it while your own life was falling apart. You’re not just an unnie—you’re the one who kept the rest of us from breaking."

Yura’s throat worked, her expression caught between relief and fresh ache. "Tomorrow’s the divorce hearing. Ji-hwan’s lawyers are playing every dirty trick in the book. I’m bracing for the worst. I keep telling myself to be strong, but—" Her voice cracked. "Some days it’s all so fucking heavy."

Joon-ho let the silence stretch, respectful, never letting go of her hand. "You don’t have to be strong by yourself. You have us now. LUNE isn’t just for Mirae. We built it for you too. You’re family, Yura. Lean on us, even if it feels awkward."

She blinked hard, a rare shine in her eyes. Then, to hide it, she laughed. "Don’t make me cry, kid. You want your models all puffy-eyed at the press conference?"

He grinned. "If you’re crying, at least let me post it to the agency Instagram. ’CEO makes unnie cry—netizens swoon.’"

Yura snorted, real laughter bubbling up, stronger now. She looked at him with real affection. "You’re trouble, Joon-ho. But I’m glad you’re the kind that sticks around."

He stood, offering his hand to help her up. "Come on. Let’s get out of here before Min-Kyung starts measuring us for matching couple outfits."

Yura let herself be pulled to her feet. "You first, pretty boy. I’m too tired to fight her for the pink dress."

They left the empty room together, a little lighter for having shared the burden, stepping into the fading afternoon where the rest of LUNE waited, a team—no, a family—finally starting to believe in itself.