Chapter 177: Chapter 177: Viral Backstage

The afternoon sun slid through the towering glass of COEX, painting the marble floors in bright strips of gold. By three, the day’s chaos was settling into a fevered, humming lull—most models and designers drifting out, staff prepping for final checks, but backstage, the energy was still on a razor’s edge.

The influencers hit their stride the moment rehearsals ended. Min-ji, Rika, and Bee sprawled on a plush bench outside the makeup rooms, phones clutched in hands, thumbs moving at lightning speed. The air was heavy with perfume, burnt coffee, the electric hum of a day spent in constant performance.

Min-ji was first, firing off a flurry of Stories—her selfie with Mirae and Joon-ho, a boomerang of Min-Kyung mock-scolding her for giggling too much, and a shaky backstage pan with the caption: "Tomorrow’s main event... but today’s chaos is just as fun! #COEX #SeoulFashionWeek." Rika filmed a ten-second TikTok lip sync as Alina posed in the background, earning a flood of "Queen!" comments. Bee, grinning, shot a live Q&A in Thai and English, fielding questions about her first Korean fashion week, occasionally swinging the camera to catch Mirae and Yumi waving.

In between, Min-ji snuck a DM to @unholynuna, legendary admin of Coffee Prince—the biggest Joon-ho fan page, dormant but famous for blowing up at just the right moments. She attached the group selfie, a short video clip of Joon-ho teasing Harin in the hall, and added a shy, excited note: "You need to post these. He’s here, for real, main runway. Tell the old crowd!"

Ten minutes later, the effect was volcanic. The Coffee Prince page pinged to life with an "EXCLUSIVE: Kang Joon-ho returns to the spotlight—see him with Mirae & LUNE’s star lineup!" The comment section erupted. Fans who hadn’t logged in for months swarmed the post. "Is this for real?" "Oppa’s back???" "He’s hotter than ever, WTF." Someone clipped a frame of him holding Mirae’s hand, adding, "That’s it, I’m dead." Memes, fanart, even old-school edits exploded—#DaddyJoon trending, the number ticking up and up.

Mirae, still dressed down in her fitting slip, perched on the arm of a nearby chair and watched Joon-ho’s follower count tick past a million. She nudged him with her foot. "You realize you’re officially an idol again? My fans will mutiny."

Joon-ho snorted, stretching out his legs, looking only mildly bemused. "It’s just a meme wave. It’ll pass."

Harin, scrolling, shook her head in awe. "We should’ve let you go viral ages ago. Do you see this engagement rate? Even Min-ji’s followers are jealous."

Min-Kyung stuck her head in, arms loaded with dress bags. "Good. Let them talk. Joon-ho, stop slouching—you’re representing my brand now, too."

The influencers, glued to their phones, gave each other sly, delighted grins. Rika, cool as ever, couldn’t help but eye her own notifications, side-eyeing the Coffee Prince page as it overtook her own follower count in less than an hour. She nudged Bee, murmuring in Japanese, "This is insane—they worship him. Even the Paris page didn’t blow up this fast."

Bee, bouncing in her seat, whispered, "I hope some of them follow me! My grandma will finally believe I’m famous."

Min-ji, all nerves and glee, let out a tiny shriek. "@unholynuna just replied—she says if we get another video tomorrow, we can take over the whole front page." She clapped a hand over her mouth, then immediately started messaging her friends in the group chat, typing so fast her acrylics clacked.

Mirae cocked her head, smiling. "You’re all hired as our hype crew. LUNE PR is officially handled."

The girls dissolved into laughter. Natty and Alina, returning from the fitting room, joined in, Alina sprawling across Yumi’s lap. "Give me that phone—I need more followers before tomorrow."

Natty posed for a photo, Bee’s camera capturing her best angle. "Min-Kyung, you want us to post the dress or keep it secret?"

Min-Kyung, frazzled but pleased, barked, "Show off the shoes, not the main looks. Leave them hungry." She ruffled Bee’s hair, then spun on her heel to bark orders at a junior assistant.

As they prepped to leave, the sense of anticipation was giddy, feverish—a crackle in the air, the rush of an audience waiting just out of sight.

Min-ji scrolled the Coffee Prince page one last time and screamed, startling everyone. "It’s a million—no, one point one! In like an hour!" She thrust her phone into Harin’s face. "How?! He barely even posts!"

Joon-ho lifted an eyebrow. "That’s called a dedicated admin. Remind me to buy her dinner sometime."

Alina laughed, reaching for Mirae’s hand. "You’ll never catch up. She’s at five million. He’s only famous because of you."

Mirae playfully elbowed him. "I expect flowers when you pass me."

Harin rolled her eyes. "If he passes you, we’ll make him do a livestream Q&A in nothing but his briefs. Watch the numbers go up then."

Yumi blushed, covering her mouth, while Natty snickered. "Can we vote for that?"

The mood was so high it was almost dizzying, but even as the girls pulled on coats and exchanged numbers with the makeup team, there was a current of tension beneath it. Rika lingered behind, staring at the Coffee Prince comments, her face unreadable. When Min-ji leaned in, whispering something, Rika snapped back, "We’ll see who goes viral tomorrow." Min-ji just laughed, unbothered, too swept up in the rush.

When they finally spilled out into the main concourse, the glass roof glowed violet, evening sun dipping low. Min-Kyung did one last head count, then shooed her assistants toward the waiting taxis. The influencers trailed behind, Bee sending a rapid-fire vlog to her followers, Rika turning her camera to capture a moody "leaving the war zone" shot, Min-ji still obsessed with her DMs.

Inside, Mirae looped her arm through Joon-ho’s, her voice low. "Think tomorrow will be like this?"

He grinned, squeezing her hand. "Bigger. Louder. Don’t let it throw you."

Harin, armful of tote bags, shook her head. "This is nothing. You should’ve seen the Idol House press mobs. At least here we have security."

Min-Kyung, overhearing, laughed. "Security is just for show. If the fans want in, they’ll climb the walls."

They all laughed, piling into the van, the whole ride back filled with a mad exchange of memes, new fan edits, and plans for one last "sleepover" in Mirae and Min-Kyung’s suite.

Elsewhere, Seoul’s night was lighting up. In a penthouse dripping with money, Baek Ji-hwan stared at his wall-mounted TV, naked, fuming. The news ticker crawled: Korea’s Fashion Week goes viral—LUNE’s new faces, Coffee Prince revival. He flipped the channel, only to see another segment—Mirae and Joon-ho, side by side, an influencer’s phone glowing in the shot.

His mistress, the self-proclaimed "Crypto Queen," strutted out in nothing but crotchless panties and a micro-bra, her blonde hair swinging as she crawled onto the bed. She glanced at the TV, then at his limp cock, and laughed. "Your face looks like you just lost a million dollars."

Baek scowled. "This is bullshit. All the headlines are about fashion week—who cares about runway? That LUNE bitch and her boytoy are everywhere."

She crawled over, tongue trailing along his thigh, nails raking his skin. "You want them to care about you again? Throw a party. Make it wilder than anything those fashion snobs can imagine. I know girls who can get you on every gossip channel in the country."

He grabbed her hair, thrusting her mouth onto his cock. "You think a party can fix this?"

She pulled back, licked her lips, her voice low and mocking. "Trust me. Call your little crypto rats. I’ll handle the girls. You want headlines? Give the city a scandal."

He slammed into her, rough and mean, venting all his jealousy with his cock and his hands, leaving bruises and bites. The bedframe rattled with every vicious thrust, his fingers digging into her hips so hard she’d have his marks for days. She moaned, arching her back, hair wild across the sheets, egging him on, "Show me who the real king is... Fuck me like you own everything they want."

Baek growled, sweat slick on his skin, driving into her with raw, punishing force—each time her body jolted forward, cheek mashed to the mattress, the TV in her sightline flickering with Joon-ho’s and Yura’s name and that damn smiling face. "You want a king?" he spat, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to look at the screen, "You watch while I ruin you. Nobody remembers second place."

She choked on a gasp, thighs trembling as he hammered into her, his hand slipping up to clamp around her throat, squeezing until her moans went hoarse. The city outside was nothing but a blur of lights and envy, all their power and pettiness crashing together in a tangle of flesh and ego. He bit her shoulder, leaving another angry welt, then shoved deeper, grinding out every scrap of humiliation into her body until she broke beneath him, sobbing, cursing, coming so hard her legs gave out.

He finished with a final savage thrust, spilling inside her, letting her collapse into the pillows, spent and shaking, the Fashion Week logo still burning behind his eyes like a challenge he couldn’t stand to lose.

After, sprawled on the sheets, she turned and traced a finger down his chest. "Let’s throw the party at the hotel near COEX. Get every influencer we can—show them who really runs Seoul."

Baek, chest heaving, stared at the ceiling. "Fine. Call them. I want to see them beg for invitations."

She grinned, already tapping out a list. "Don’t worry. By tomorrow, no one will care about a couple of pretty faces. They’ll all want a piece of you."

He didn’t answer. On screen, Joon-ho’s smile flashed, bright and unbothered. The Crypto Queen squeezed his balls, whispered, "Let me make you famous again." He closed his eyes, lost in rage and a sticky afterglow.

Back at the Grand Meridian, the LUNE crew took over a private lounge—drinks poured, feet kicked up, the influencers still glued to their phones. Every minute brought another spike in notifications, fan messages, and invitations. Natty called it: "Tomorrow, everyone wants to be LUNE."

Min-ji toasted with sparkling water, grinning. "To us. To backstage chaos and accidental fame!"

Rika, cool but burning, just sipped her drink, scrolling through Coffee Prince, plotting how tomorrow would go differently.

Bee, tipsy and blissful, beamed at her friends, certain that her world was about to get a lot bigger.

Mirae, already half-asleep against Joon-ho’s side, whispered, "We’re not ready, are we?"

He kissed her hair, voice low and easy. "We’re never ready. That’s what makes it worth doing."

Outside, Seoul glowed—the calm before the storm, the world watching, waiting for which dream would burn the brightest.