Chapter 166: Chapter 166: Front Row Storm

The press conference room at the Grand Meridian pulsed with anticipation, a sea of well-worn faces and fresh, nervous ones scattered among the rows. Veteran journalists leaned back, already trading gossip in low voices, their newbie protégés taking notes—half on the event, half on the unspoken rules. On one side of the room, a pair of reporters from a major tabloid compared tip-offs about Hanzenith Capital’s simultaneous presser across town. On the other, a blogger scrolled frantically, hungry for anything that could turn into a viral headline.

When Harin entered, flanked by Hye-jin, a few of the older journalists straightened, recognizing Hye-jin from her EON days. Whispers rippled—why was she here, with Lumina, not chasing idol contracts? Harin took her place at the podium, composure unruffled. She introduced herself, outlined the event schedule, and introduced the team: Yura, the CEO; Joon-ho and Mirae, the main runway models; Hye-jin, operations. She thanked everyone for coming and, with a polite firmness, reminded them, "We understand the media’s curiosity about recent events, but today’s focus is Seoul Fashion Week and Lumina’s vision. Please respect the purpose of this conference."

A few nods, some perfunctory. But already, a handful of hands were tightening around their pens, questions about Yura’s divorce or Mirae’s departure from EON half-formed and waiting for the right moment.

Yura entered next, every inch the CEO—tailored cream suit, hair in a sleek chignon, posture impossibly straight despite the week she’d endured. Joon-ho followed at her side, eyes taking in every detail, Mirae close behind, head high but cheeks tinged with anxiety. The five of them—Yura, Joon-ho, Mirae, Harin, and Hye-jin—sat in a line at the front table, flashes popping for a moment as the photographers caught the first shot.

Yura took her place at the podium. Her voice was clear, unwavering as she welcomed the press and outlined the historic significance of this Seoul Fashion Week. "This is the first time the international fashion community’s eyes are on Seoul not as a trend follower, but as a trend setter. Lumina is honored to represent Korean creativity on this stage." She spoke of Lumina’s collaborations, the new generation of designers, and introduced Joon-ho and Mirae as her handpicked main runway models. "Both of them represent the spirit of reinvention. Their looks, styled by Jung Min-Kyung—who’s working day and night to finish the collection—capture everything we want to say this season."

The applause was genuine, even if some clapped while already prepping their toughest questions. Yura sat, expression unreadable, and Harin nodded for the press to begin.

But before anyone could leap into the expected controversy, Joon-ho stood and walked to the podium. His movement alone silenced the room—he was new blood, yes, but everyone recognized something in the way he carried himself. When he spoke, it was with simple authority.

"Thank you, everyone, for supporting Korean fashion and the incredible talent in this room," he began. "I want to take this opportunity to share something important. Today, I am proud to announce the launch of LUNE Entertainment—a new agency focused on integrity, creativity, and supporting artists on their own terms."

The ripple of surprise was visible, even audible—a breath held, a phone raised in haste. Joon-ho continued, unhurried. "Our lineup will include myself, Mirae, Jina, Rina, and more artists we’ll announce soon. I’m thrilled to introduce Kang Harin as our CEO, and Seo Hye-jin as Director of Operations. Our first project is right here: representing Korea at Fashion Week with Lumina, showing that this city can set the standard for both art and agency."

He returned to his seat, the announcement hanging in the air. The planned ambush of personal questions lost its momentum; journalists scrambled to shift their angles, whispering urgently to each other.

Hye-jin stood next, assuming the role of moderator. "We’ll open the floor for questions," she said smoothly, "but please keep them relevant to today’s event."

The first questions were formal, professional. "What was the inspiration behind this year’s Lumina collection?" "How were the main models chosen?" Yura answered, keeping her focus on design, innovation, and the collaboration with LUNE. Mirae spoke briefly about her excitement to return to the runway, emphasizing teamwork and the chance to showcase Korean fashion with Joon-ho.

A senior reporter from a top fashion daily pressed further: "What are LUNE’s goals? Are you aiming to compete with established agencies, or do you have a different vision?"

Joon-ho smiled, meeting the reporter’s gaze. "We want to build something new—a place where artists have real agency, where we prioritize creative freedom over short-term profits or scandals. The goal isn’t just to compete, but to inspire change across the industry."

Another asked, "Mirae, after your high-profile departure from EON, do you have any regrets? What made you choose LUNE?"

Mirae sat a little taller. "I have no regrets. EON was my past, but I’m building my future here—with people who value me as more than just a product. LUNE gives me the chance to choose my own path and to work with people I trust."

The Q&A moved briskly, but the seasoned journalists weren’t to be thrown off their game entirely. One, a notorious columnist, leaned into the mic: "Ms. Seo, how did yesterday’s divorce proceedings affect your leadership at Lumina? Are you concerned about the impact on your brand or your personal standing?"

Yura met his gaze, expression cool. "Leadership isn’t about never facing hardship. It’s about responding with integrity. I have a strong team beside me—Harin, who now leads LUNE, and everyone in this room. Lumina’s strength doesn’t depend on my marital status. If anything, this is a new beginning for us all."

A blogger tried to stir more: "Some online are saying your clean break with Baek Ji-hwan leaves you isolated—no family, no husband, no old allies. What do you say to that?"

Yura smiled, a hint of steel. "Independence isn’t isolation. It’s the freedom to choose who stands at your side. Today, I choose this team, and I stand by them. That’s more than enough."

Another shot went to Mirae: "Some critics argue that artists who leave big agencies lose their platform. Are you worried about fading into obscurity?"

Mirae didn’t hesitate. "Platforms come and go. What matters is the work—the art, the performance, the story we tell. With LUNE and Lumina, I’m exactly where I want to be, and I’m not afraid of starting fresh."

Through it all, Hye-jin kept the tempo sharp, cutting off anyone who tried to redirect to personal gossip or rumors. "If there are no further questions about the show or the agencies’ future, we’ll conclude with a group photo," she said, her tone leaving little room for protest.

As everyone stood for photos, camera shutters snapped in rapid fire. Yura stood in the center, flanked by Joon-ho and Mirae, Harin and Hye-jin beside them, all of them standing a little closer than mere colleagues. The journalists muttered among themselves, surprise at the LUNE announcement eclipsing the very scandals they’d come to chase.

After the official shots, a few reporters lingered for soundbites. Mirae handled them with newfound poise, brushing off insinuations and steering every answer back to the excitement of Fashion Week. Joon-ho quietly thanked the photographer, then leaned in to murmur to Mirae, "You were perfect up there." Mirae’s blush was quick, but her return smile was all confidence.

Backstage, the team finally exhaled. Harin squeezed Yura’s arm, eyes bright. "You changed the story. You know that, right?"

Yura allowed herself a small, real smile. "I didn’t do it alone."

Joon-ho stretched, feeling the pressure finally easing as the last journalists filed out. "They’ll talk about LUNE more than anything else today. We just stole their headline."

Hye-jin nodded, gathering the last of the handouts. "Let’s keep it that way."

As the doors closed behind them, the city outside felt charged—press notifications pinged on every phone, social feeds exploded with the news of the new agency and the sight of Yura unbowed at center stage. In the privacy of their makeshift green room, Mirae scrolled through the first reactions: support, speculation, excitement. She glanced at Joon-ho, then at Yura, feeling—for the first time in ages—not like she was at the end of someone else’s story, but standing at the beginning of her own.

The team gathered their bags, voices soft with exhaustion but bright with something sharper: pride. Outside, Fashion Week banners fluttered on the lampposts. Tomorrow would bring more questions, more eyes, more pressure. But tonight, together, they had owned the story—and written the first line of a new Chapter.